“Well?”
“Have you given more thought to Lieutenant Spartan and Commander Anderson’s suggestion, regarding the Biomechs?”
“Ah, I was wondering when that would come up. The last report from Anderson says the first of them had already been awoken. I have read your report about those that helped you. I’m concerned some of you may be going a little soft on them,” she said, almost playfully.
“Soft?” answered the General, not seeing the funny side. “Trust me, I have seen enough of them and watched too many men and women die at their hands. I honestly believe the creatures we have fought have been programmed more thoroughly than even religious indoctrination. They barely think, they simply follow out their orders with ruthless efficiency.”
“Perhaps, but how is that different to us using them to fight their own?” she asked.
“I wasn’t suggesting we did that. Before Spartan left, he gave me a few ideas to think about. I’m not certain it is an ideal solution, but it does have merit.”
“Let me guess, he wanted to give the them the chance to join Confed Marine units as privates?” she asked laughing.
“You might be closer than you think. Back in the nineteenth century on Earth, several countries made use of mercenaries to supplement their armed forces. The British, in particular, made use of an actual region called Nepal where they recruited for hundreds of years. The soldiers, known as Ghurkhas, provided thousands of men over the years. It was a simple agreement, whereby the locals received greater benefits than they would ever earn living in their homeland. In return, they would fight for the British. As a reward, after their service, they were ultimately granted permission to live in Britain.”
“I’ve not heard of them. Did it work?”
“Admiral, they were cheaper than British soldiers and the equal, sometimes the better, of the local troops. Until the great colonisation of the new worlds, the European Army still contained a Ghurkha unit as part of the British Corps.”
“Thank you for the history lesson, perhaps you could tell me what your plan is then?”
“We will have several thousand strong, aggressive and homeless Biomechs with no hatred for us or the Confederacy. If we were to offer them a simple deal, a trade if you like, they agree to join the Confed military. This would be under human officers, but as a Biomech battalion. They could be armed with spare heavy weapons and close quarters gear. We have plenty in stores.”
“A Biomech army? You’re serious?”
“I know it sounds a little off, but they have the potential to provide us with a powerful shock force. Combined with our new Vanguards and the Fleet, they could give us the edge in ground combat.”
“Assuming I agreed to this, how long would it take? Surely we would need months to prepare them?” she asked suspiciously.
“Commander Anderson tells me their basic programming includes speech, simple problem solving and the use of tools. They can learn to use edged weapons in hours. Firearms will take longer, but if we give them the heavier guns, they can make up in firepower what they lack in aim. Anderson suggests a week could be enough for a rough, but workable force. Over time, we could improve their training and tactical prowess.”
Admiral Jarvis stood silent, contemplating the opportunity. She was well informed of their lack of heavy infantry. The Army personnel were competent, but many were Territorial Soldiers and not used to being stationed away from home. They lacked much of the modern equipment used by the marines, also the ability to land directly into battle. Of the twenty-four Army Battalions, only the five that formed the 12th Airborne Division, were trained and sufficiently equipped for assault operations. They were already in position on Prime, where they were assisting in training the local militias in combat tactics. This was under the supervision of General Shears, the colony’s military commander.
“Why would they do this? What can we offer them?”
“That’s simple, just two things. Firstly, we can offer them a home. Secondly, and of more importance to them, revenge. They are fully aware of what has happened, due to talks between their representative and Commander Anderson. A number have already toured the facility on Prometheus, under the supervision of Gun.”
“The Biomech that assisted your little revolt?”
“Little?” replied the General with disdain.
“Okay. I understand what you are saying. You will liaise with Anderson and set up a safe protocol. We have to ensure this doesn’t come back and bite us in the ass. The Biomechs of Prometheus will be given the chance to form battalions under our command. They will receive benefits from the Confederacy, including a place to live following the conclusion of the war, and inclusion within the Confederate family.”
“What about after the war, Admiral? Where will they live?”
“We’ll deal with that when we get to it. For now all they need to know is that the Confederacy is their friend. If they fight with us, they will be rewarded with a place in our new society.”
“Understood, I will contact Anderson immediately.”
“Good luck, General. We will need a trustworthy set of officers to command them, make sure they can keep them under control,” she said seriously.
He saluted and left the Admiral alone in the room, as she considered the gravity of what she had just done.
“Biomechs on our side? What the hell is the Council going to think about this?” she muttered to herself. Though deep inside, she doubted whether the Council even still existed. For now, the conclusion of the war was all that mattered. The politics would be left for others to worry about.
CHAPTER FOUR
The mind of the Biomech is a wondrous thing. At the heart of every one is the brain of a human subject, some taken from the recently deceased where they are put into immediate cryogenic storage and others removed from live hosts. The bodies appear a curious mixture of freshly grown tissue and organs, with the use of donor parts from others bodies. This is undoubtedly why there has been so much variation in the types of Biomechs seen on Proxima. Some being no more than animals, others more like massively oversized men. The real fear for Confed scientists is that they will be able to procreate. This possibility could result in the rise of a new, potentially more successful species than Homo sapiens.
Evolution of the Biomechs
Blue sparks of electricity flashed across the bulkheads, sending a number of workers and marines scurrying for cover. Water still dripped from the many ruptured pipes and the risk to those on the ground was great. The combat damage from the uprising in the prison facility had taken its toll on the internal infrastructure. At least one tunnel had already collapsed.
Commander Anderson watched in dismay from the high observation point in the harvesting area. He was overseeing the removal and disconnection of the equipment as it was taken away for examination. Next to him stood Sergeant Kowalski, who sent mapping and route data to the men on the likely cause of the problem. He turned to the Commander and pointed at a point on his map of the site. Anderson looked at it briefly, establishing the critical component and its site in the base. He pulled the intercom from the mount on the wall.
“The second level relay. Level three, section two. Shut it down, shut it down now!”
“We’re on it!” came the reply, as a small team of engineers scurried about, jumping over cables and doing their best to avoid the sparks. One was on the ground and being taken care of by a number of workers. Sergeant Kowalski sent additional details, so they could work their way through the labyrinthine underground site. From their vantage point, Anderson could just make out one of the men tearing open a maintenance hatch and then diving in with a number of tools. There was a final blue flash, then it was over.
“We’re clear, there was a short on the main capacitor. I’ve taken it offline,” explained one of the men over the intercom unit.
Anderson breathed a sigh of relief as he watched them make a few more subtle fixes to the unit, before sealing the hatch back down. It was dangerous and
time and, as ever, was against them. He’d already lost two men because of an overloaded capacitor storage unit blowing, and he expected more to follow.
The massive underground complex was buried deep inside the planet. Tunnels and corridors ran for kilometres underground. Great rooms had been built into the hollowed out rock. It had been used until recently as a secret factory run by the Zealots, powered by the sweat and blood of slave labour. The real shock had not been the shipyards that were churning out small frigate sizes ships, but rather the harvesting areas where humans were stripped of body parts and organs to be used in the production of the Biomechs. The officer looked at the reports in his datapad, the latest information only just arriving from the sensors connected directly into the computer system. On his own datapad, Kowalski checked the figures. His expertise in computer security and networking proving especially useful in keeping the system functioning, at the same time stopping any data loss.
His latest assignment was to work his way through the masses of accumulated data on the site, the facilities, technology and specimens to get a better understanding of the Biomechs. Until now, everything had been based upon analysing the bodies. The intelligence collected so far had not been useful. He looked once more at the numbers from the harvest room, before handing the datapad to Anderson.
“You were right, Commander. The latest generation of the Biomechs seems to be using less and less of the component parts. The last iteration just used the brain, organs and nervous system of the host humans. From the analysis on those still in the cylinders, it looks like the newest models are almost fully synthetic, right down to the nervous system. The machines in the factory behind the harvesting rooms were growing bone, tissue and flesh for the creatures over a period of months. We have similar technology in Confed labs for growing replacement organs, but nothing this advanced or extreme. These Biomechs are a radical advance over the first generation we met on Prime. They are not far from being able to produce an almost fully synthetic creature. All they have left to do, is to perfect the construction of synthetic brain cells.”
Commander Anderson examined the data, his expression changing slightly as he read his findings.
“Incredible, truly incredible! The Union have the technology to ultimately create an unlimited number of synthetic creatures to carry out all kinds of tasks. They must have been working on this technology for years.”
“Longer than that, Sir. From the reports I have sent back to Naval Intelligence, the most recent operations being carried out on official Confed Labs, was for replacement organs and bones. Fusing the nervous system with artificially grown material is something that so far hasn’t been perfected, at least not officially.”
“Apart from the Biomechs of course.”
“True. I still don’t understand the whole brain and programming part. That kind of technology could transform the entire medical profession. Not forgetting that, we could engineer workers or warriors when required,” suggested Kowalski.
Commander Anderson looked at the data on his screen for a moment, specifically the numerical data on the organs and fully completed Biomechs in the tubes. He looked back to Kowalski.
“You don’t think that is what they were trying to do all along? To construct facilities that will allow the building of a new caste of human, one that is programed and malleable to suggestion? They can already make soldiers that are stronger and easier to control than our own men. From the research I’ve seen, they come out of the tubes fully capable of movement, basic orders and physical combat. If you built that facility into a large vessel, you would have the ability to replenish your ground troops in a matter of months, without having to return home.”
Kowalski said nothing, as he tried to digest what the Commander was saying.
“You’re suggesting a slave factory ship that could travel from colony to colony, where it would harvest the conquered population. For every, let’s say six people, it could create new warriors to continue the process. You honestly think they would do something like that? I know the Zealots are, well, psychotic, but this would be too much even for them.”
“Perhaps, it does seem a little farfetched. Just remember though, if we can think of it, so can they. You say they are becoming less and less reliant upon host humans. What about the brain?”
“You’re correct, Sir. Even though they can create a fully functioning nervous system, they will still need an original donor brain to connect to the system. Wiping the cells and reconfiguring them to a default state, doesn’t appear to be an issue though. There is something else, Sir, something truly worrying to me.”
“Go on, Sergeant.”
“If they can wipe and reprogram the salvaged brains from slaves, what would stop them doing the same to a non-Biomech? They could take a normal, living man like you or me and wipe our minds. Potentially even reprograming us.”
“You’re serious? If that were possible, it would allow them to infiltrate all levels of military or political structures. Good work, Kowalski, I’ll get this information over to Naval Intelligence immediately. This is some pretty heavy analysis.”
Kowalski nodded in agreement and took his datapad back from the Commander. He accessed the data files he had been working on and started encoding them with high level ciphers ready for transmission. Anderson leaned over the railing to where a large Biomech stood, looking like some kind of troll. He was armoured and still carrying the large multi-barrelled Gatling gun fitted to its arm. Though he was a Biomech, he was larger than the first models they had encountered. He appeared to be either the latest incarnation, or possibly a variant optimised for heavy combat. Gun was his name, one that Spartan and the others had bestowed upon him after he had helped their uprising. He was amongst the first two free thinking Biomechs they had met. This was apparently because of the sabotage, conducted by the turncoat Tigris, rewiring their programming to turn them against the Zealots and their allies. The programming didn’t appear to have worked too well though. Gun wouldn’t take orders, unless they suited him and he was extremely protective of his own kind. It was this that had made him the unelected, and unofficial, spokesman for the newly hatched Biomechs.
“Gun!” he shouted down to him.
The Biomech looked up in the direction of the sound, quickly spotting the Commander. His face was always stern. But those that had spent time with him were quickly learning to note the subtle changes when he seemed less serious. He raised his gun arm and grunted.
“I need to talk to you about something important. Are you busy?” he asked, expecting a cryptic and simplistic response.
“Busy? More than you!” he said and then started to laugh with a throaty roar.
Kowalski looked to the Commander.
“Is it just me, or is he getting smarter and more sarcastic?”
Commander Anderson smiled. “Yeah, I get the impression he knows far more than he lets on.” He paused for a moment, the implication being that he had something serious to say. “You’ve seen the proposal from the Admiral for the Biomechs?”
“I have, it’s pretty serious. I really can’t believe for a moment the general population will go for it. Biomechs being given a place in the Confederacy! What about the Zealots?”
“It’s not going to be easy. We are going to have to try and explain that these Biomechs are as different to those we’ve been fighting, as they are to Zealots or suicide bombers.”
“Yeah, good luck with that!” laughed Kowalski uncomfortably.
“I’ve arranged for a small group of us to meet, so that we can discuss these options with Gun. I want you and Bishop to join me to get a feel for the talks. I need as many eyes on him as possible. We can’t afford any misinterpretation. Where is Bishop anyway? I thought he was helping Gun with clearing out one of the tech labs?”
“He’s supposed to be. I think he’s doing something with Misaki,” replied Kowalski, trying to hide a smirk.
“Misaki, the woman who was in the prison with the rest of you? I thought
she had something going on with Spartan?”
“No, Sir. From what I saw the two of them seem pretty cool. Spartan wouldn’t talk about it though, since then she has been helping with the clear up. Her technical skills are quite advanced, it seems she studied higher level maths in the past.”
“Really, my reports suggested her skills were in other, less intellectual areas? Well, find where they are and tell them to both meet me in the ready room in fifteen minutes. Get Gun there as well, he’s needed the most.”
Kowalski saluted and moved off down the stairs, joining the dozens of people moving back and forth carrying crates and equipment. He stopped to speak with Gun, who appeared to say nothing. The great Biomech stood like a statue and if he hadn’t moved every few minutes, he could have been easily avoided or ignored as a lump of stone.
Anderson turned back to the datapad, the small electronic device carried by most Confed personnel for communication and data access. As the images flicked past, he could check the latest information on the compound. There was little left of the final harvesting hall and most of the equipment was being loaded carefully onto pallets. It was the last area of its kind in the facility, but Gun has insisted on its closure or destruction, and Commander Anderson had no intention of alienating their newest ally. According to the figures, there were now just over two hundred fully hatched Biomechs being cared for in the improvised medical bay.
The area had been re-appropriated from the largest but empty shipyard. It was spacious and armoured, making it easily sealed from the rest of the site. Inside were the many Biomechs, along with almost a full company of medical staff and technicians ensuring they were stable and cared for. Some were already talking. Gun had explained in his own way, that he was in charge and that they were safe in that area. It was okay for now, but it wouldn’t last, especially with so many more on the way.
From his position, he saw Kowalski move off into one of the corridors, presumably on the hunt for Bishop. Anderson double-checked the wording of the agreement put out between the military high command in this sector. Admiral Jarvis was technically the Supreme Commander in this region, until contact was re-established with the President and the Council on Terra Nova.
Battle for Proxima Page 7