Saturnius Mons (Ruins of Empire Book 1)

by Jeremy L. Jones

  “They won’t let me treat the others,” said Althea mournfully. “Not until I finish with these people.”

  Isra glanced over at the Perfiduloi on the opposite side of the field. There was not a single person tending to them and, from what Isra could see, the wounds were more severe.

  “Not that I could do much,” said Althea standing, “Without proper facilities and advanced technology, the most I could do is make their death a little more comfortable.”

  “There is no way to save this society as it is now,” said Isra, watching the Perfiduloi suffer alone. “As long as the divide exists, the Corporation will exploit that and play one against the other. Eventually, they will bring the whole civilization to heel.”

  Althea pulled off the bloody latex gloves she was wearing. “Seems like such a trivial concern—our Ministry-Corporation bickering—what with the cost of humanity we are seeing.”

  “That too.” Isra sighed, “Do what you need to do out here. I will go back to the pyramid to see Cronus.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  Isra paused and surveyed the wounded. “The Houston spoke of balance. I do not know how or why but that ‘balance’ he seeks is somehow connected with the refineries. Maybe Cronus has found something that will explain it and help me figure out a way to end this war between the Urbanoi and the Perfiduloi.”

  Whatever small benefit the battle brought to Viekko’s mind was wearing off along with the last dose of Triple-T. Once again, he found himself marching through the dense forests as his mind slipped away from him. Only the occasional prods by the man who held the ropes around his wrists along with the stabbing pain in his side kept Viekko aware enough to maintain any situational awareness. One of the arms tied behind him vibrated just slightly; the signal for an incoming message. Isra and Althea were trying to get ahold of him. They’d have to wait for now, until he completely understood the situation. Having them charge in with no intel would just lead to more death.

  The shrapnel in his side would be a problem soon. So long as he didn’t pull it out, he wouldn’t bleed to death immediately, but it wasn’t doing his internal plumbing any good. At least he could walk for the moment. If he could keep his mind focused on his present surroundings, he could find a way to escape.

  After a couple hours, and a few kilometers, he noticed that he was no longer alone with his captor. Others dragged themselves through the freezing jungle having just escaped the battle themselves. Men and women emerged from the trees with their animal skin clothing still smoldering. Many had burns on their arms, legs and face; a mark of the Venganto attacks. He noticed the stench of burnt hair and skin as the path they were traveling became more crowded.

  They emerged into a clearing around a large, irregularly shaped hill. Unlike the gentle, rounded slopes that were fairly common in the area, this was a sharp rise like a sudden cliff in the forest. It was, at least, hundred meters long. It was covered in moss, grass and a few small trees, but there was something geometric and man-made about it. As he got closer, he saw the glint of something shiny underneath the plant life. Soon, silver metal peeked out among the browns and greens. He realized he was looking at the remains of a spacecraft. It had been there a while, maybe even a millennium. The way the forest people clustered around it, told him that this wasn’t just another forgotten relic, but a home.

  He noticed a familiar voice as he was being dragged toward the ancient ship. He didn’t recognize what was said—it was in the native language—but he knew the person it came from. Sergeant Carr was about twenty meters away walking with a certain Perfiduloi man. He was about a head taller than most of the others, which was rather impressive for these people, with broad shoulders and a long, braided beard. Along with the fur cloak that everyone else here wore, he also had a sash around his waist made of bright, white animal fur. That, and the fact that several warriors followed in his wake, gave the man an air of authority or, at the very least, influence. At the moment, he listened to Carr talk, but his expression suggested that he didn’t like what he was hearing at all.

  What happened next was a reflex more than anything else. Viekko bolted forward, yanking his rope from his surprised captor’s hands, and charged at the tall man and his entourage as fast as the wound in his side would allow. He screamed Carr’s name like the marine had personally murdered his family. It was a desperate act brought on by equal parts fear, rage, and withdrawal-induced confusion.

  The entourage assembled in a line with their spears raised before Viekko could get anywhere close. He stopped just out of reach and screamed Carr’s name again.

  “Viekko! Is that you?” he said with false warmth as he walked through the line of soldiers, “I thought you were dead.” He walked up to Viekko until they were standing less than a meter apart. “Maybe I just hoped you were considering what you did to my artillery batteries.”

  As quick as a shot, Carr punched Viekko under the jaw with a right cross. Viekko fell to the ground groaning and spitting blood.

  The man in charge approached. “Kiu estas ci tiu?”

  “Li estas neniu. Estus pli bone de vi mortigis lin,” said Carr.

  Viekko spat and got to his knees. He looked up at Carr, the leader, and several spear heads just a few centimeters from his face. “Ain’t nobody tell you that it’s rude to talk in a language not everyone understands?”

  Carr looked like he was going to say something but the other man beat him to it. “I apologize. We were discussing if we should kill you or not.”

  It was awkward getting to his feet with his hands bound and a pain in his side like someone taking a hot knife and jiggling it around his innards, but Viekko managed it. “You speak English?”

  The man smiled slightly. “The Houston and his pets are not the only ones to speak the language of the Kompanio, no matter how hard they try to keep it to themselves. But as you say, I am being rude. Call me Halifaco. You know Sergeant Carr?”

  Viekko snarled at the marine. “We’ve met. The man is as low-down and slimy as they come. He’ll destroy you and everyone around you.”

  Carr clenched and made like he was going to punch Viekko again, but Halifaco held up his hand. “Cesu! I must say that I don’t disagree with you. We have suffered greatly by allowing this man to tempt us into battle.”

  The marine reeled back. “The assault was working! It’s not my fault that your men run at the first sign of trouble!”

  Halifaco glared at Carr. “You assured me that you, your men, and your weapons could defeat the Venganto. You failed.”

  “Well, you failed to mention that the Venganto were a legion of black flying…things shooting fire out of their asses. And we could have brought them down if your men didn’t run like cowards.”

  The two men were clearly in the middle an extended argument. Even now, Viekko had the presence of mind to realize that it could work to his advantage. “If I may, Halifaco, I saw the toys he brought. They ain’t good for nothin’ ‘sept blowing holes in the ground and keeping mechanics in business. He should know that. Hell, I’d say he was trying to get you into a battle you couldn’t win.”

  The look Carr gave him was red-hot. If Carr had a gun, he wouldn’t bother to shoot Viekko, he’d just beat him with the blunt end until he was a creamy, red paste. “That’s some pretty bold words coming from somebody smuggling guns to those heathens in the city.”

  Viekko slurred. “It wasn’t our intention to arm anyone. We brought those in case we had to keep the peace. We was protectin’ people. What did you do besides take the refineries for your own uses and get more folk dead in the process?”

  Up to this point, Halifaco watched like a spectator at a tennis match. But on mention of the refineries he shot Carr a look of pure hatred. “What does this man speak of? You told me you shut down the refineries.”

  Carr waved his hand dismissively. “We did, we did. Don’t listen to him. We had an agreement. Those refineries are down and they are never coming back.”

  Even thr
ough the Haze, Viekko snorted trying to suppress a laugh.

  Halifaco glared at him. “Is there something funny?”

  Viekko shook his head. “Nothin’ at all sir. I’m sure he’s tellin’ the truth. Even though he and his people traveled billions of kilometers just to get at those refineries, I’m sure they had a change of heart.”

  Carr squared up to Viekko. “You just shut your damn lyin’ face.”

  This time Viekko laughed out loud. “I’m a liar. Sure, why not? What did you come here for then? Sun and beach? A little sightseein’ expedition? Drinks that change color and girls in tight clothin’?”

  Carr snarled. “What about you, Viekko, why are you here?”

  Viekko’s head rolled toward the sky. “It don’t matter what my intentions are. Even if I came here to do some really, really bad things, my weapons got stolen, I had to retreat from a tactically advantageous point and, in case you missed it, I’ve been captured. If evil intentions I had, they ain’t goin’ so well. Meanwhile, you captured the refineries on the pretext that you would be shuttin’ them down. ‘Course, I bet as soon as the place was secure, you told Halifaco here that his men weren’t needed.”

  Halifaco’s head snapped toward Carr and he gave him another withering look.

  Carr clenched his teeth. “Shut up, Viekko, or I’ll be wiping the remains of your face off my boot.”

  “I’ll bet if you go back right now, you’d see a thousand marines stealing every bit of fuel that machinery produces.”

  “I said shut your—”

  “He’ll use you and your people until the last one drops dead, be sure of it. And the whole time he will promise that the refineries will be shut down forever while he steals right from underneath you.”

  Carr swung again and, this time, Viekko rolled with it. He felt a sharp stinging pain on his cheek and found himself face down in the dirt. He laid there until a few men picked him back up.

  Carr turned to Halifaco, “Sir, you must not listen to this man. He is a spy and an enemy. He will only do you harm while he is alive.”

  Halifaco looked like a man on the tail end of his patience. He considered this for a moment before he pointed to Carr and spoke to his men. “Ligu lin.”

  Two men came from behind Carr and pulled his hands behind him. He tried to resist yelling, “Get away from me! Sir, you can’t…”

  Halifaco pulled a knife and held it to Carr’s throat. “I have listened to you once and more of my people have been slaughtered by the demons that hold the city. Before I consider listening to you again, I will put it to the people who will have to fight and die. We celebrate our battle with a feast and we will decide which of you lives and which dies. Prenu lin!”

  The two men pulled Carr’s hands behind him again. This time he didn’t resist. Once his hands were bound, Halifaco shouted more orders.

  Carr, bound and walking next to Viekko, leaned close and whispered, “Brilliant work you maniac. Now you’re going to get us both killed.”

  True, it wasn’t exactly what Viekko hoped for, but it was a start. Somehow, getting Carr on the same execution block as himself was a minor victory.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It is tempting to think of every leader and soldier in the early rebellions as brave freedom fighters rallying against oppression, but that’s as inaccurate as the idea that the Corporation was a benign social entity that existed only for the allocation of resources. Many rebels were bloodthirsty warlords and as willing to murder an entire population as set them free.

  Not every soulless butcher was born into the highest ranks of the Corporation. Many were born poor, oppressed, and desperate for a piece of the prosperity they saw around them, and they had few scruples when it came to grabbing some.

  -from The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe.

  Viekko found himself locked in a dark, dank prison cell for the second time in as many days. He was somewhere in the bowels of the ancient ship far away from any source of light apart from a small hole in the ceiling that let in just enough to give definition to the darkness. The cell was little more than a nine-by-six box with a metal shelf big enough to lay on. This could have been sleeping quarters for the crew when the ship was space-worthy. There was just enough room to sleep and store a few personal effects.

  He laid on the metal shelf and listened. The hollow interior amplified everything so that every step, door slam, and conversation existed just on the edge of hearing. It was like a hallucination where hundreds of disembodied voices talked at once.

  He was aware enough to know that, if he could hear everything going on in the ship, they could hear him too. But he didn’t have much choice. Devoid of triple-T since the previous night, he felt his brain slipping deeper and deeper into the Haze. He had to call for rescue while he was still aware enough to be worth rescuing.

  He pulled up his sleeve and activated the display on the arm of his EROS suit. It flashed on and proceeded to find the nearest signal. It took a while since Isra, Althea, and Cronus were still in the city nearly five kilometers away.

  The computer locked and Viekko sent a call to Isra. Moments later he could hear her voice in his ear. “Viekko, are you okay? We have been trying to contact you. Where are you?”

  Viekko coughed and tasted blood. “Sorry, went and got myself tied up. I’m alive for now. I’m the special guest of a local chieftain named Halifaco. He’s got me put up in our normal Titanian accommodations. How about you?”

  Isra sniffed. “At the pyramid with Cronus trying to find a way to stop this fight between the Perfiduloi and the Urbanoi. Our time may be limited, though. The Houston’s patience for ‘outsiders’ is growing short. I do not know how much longer he will tolerate our presence here.”

  Viekko coughed up another smattering of blood. “Well, then my being captured has put us into a fortuitous position. Halifaco is none too pleased with the way the last attack went down. Carr’s went and lost favor and is languishing in similar conditions. I figure if we’ve got dirt on the Corporation, now’s the time to use it and turn Halifaco to our side.”

  There was a long pause then Isra said, “Cronus is looking into the refineries. They have a central connection to Titan and the Titanian culture. Everything they do, every belief they hold dear, and every cultural construct functions to keep the refineries operational either directly or indirectly.”

  “I will say, Halifaco has a pretty big grudge against those refineries. Apparently, when his people are captured they go and work there until they manage to escape or die.”

  Isra paused again. Her voice sounded strained. “I… I know. I saw them process prisoners of war and prepare them for work.”

  “Well, it seems that Carr promised Halifaco that the refineries were offline so long as the Corporation is in the area. Now I don’t know about you but I don’t think the Corporation is capable of sitting on top of a pile of refined fuels and not doin' somethin' about it. It’s like asking a jewel thief to guard the diamond store.”

  Isra’s voice perked up, “You think the Corporation could be running the refineries in direct violation of a deal with the Perfiduloi?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past them and, if they were, it would rile the Houston up as well.”

  “I will have Cronus look into it.”

  “Ain’t gotta be much, just somethin’ to prove that the refineries are not shut down as promised. Find that and have him bring it to me. From the sounds of things, he’s got about six hours.”

  Isra paused. “Six hours? What happens in six hours?”

  “There’s to be some kind of feast and they are going to decide as a group what to do with me and Sergeant Carr.”

  “That is not a lot of time. Is there another way out?”

  “Could be, could be. They are definitely short-handed since the battle. But there are still a lot of people here and they ain’t the negotiating type. You’ll have to rampage your way in just to get to me. There’ll be lot of blood,
Isra, a lot of blood.”

  “Can you find a way to escape?”

  Viekko sat up and winced. “I took a hunk of metal to the guts during the battle. I’ll live… for now. But I can’t move terribly fast for a time.”

  “You think we can get this Halifaco on board with the right evidence?”

  “I think it’s the best chance we got.”

  “I will see what I can do.”

  “Good, I’ll wait here.”

  Viekko turned off his arm computer, laid back down and let himself slip into unconsciousness.

  The numbers were too flat on the screen. Always too flat. Cronus could see them, but he could not feel and, thus, could not understand them. He disconnected a plug from the back of the supercomputer’s dual monitors and the screens flashed to black. He reached into his pack sitting on the desk, just off the side to the keyboard, and selected the silver box and the adapters he would need to make it work.

  He pulled his goggles over his eyes and the world sprang to life once more. He saw the Code once again. A constant stream of numbers sent from the supercomputer to the refineries. Only four numbers: different combinations of zero, one, two and three. On the flat screen they merely scrolled down. So flat. So boring. Now he could see them for what they really were. They cascaded all around him, spiraling as they went.

  Four numbers. A spiral. A constant Code. It meant something, Cronus knew this for a fact but he still couldn’t put it together in his mind.