“Bullshit!”
“It’s true, Bishop. I submitted a paper on it over a year ago. The algorithm I developed will allow a nav system to plot a route through the storm with a ninety-two per cent safety margin. You need a decent system, one that can multitask multiple routes in real time along with updated storm tracking information from the naval buoys.”
“You’re serious?” asked Commander Anderson.
Kowalski looked at him for a few seconds before replying.
“I’m always serious, Sir, when it comes to tech. Trust me, my system works. The chance for loss is there, but it is the fastest and most direct route to Prometheus.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this?”
“First of all the risk is considered too high for manned vessels and the travel speed needs to be reduced according to the mass and rated engine power of the ship. Even a haulage or transport ship will have to drop speed to give a total journey time of about two weeks. Any faster and the computers won’t be available to avoid the storm anomalies. Second, the first demonstration to the brass resulted in a simulated passenger liner being destroyed. I told them to use a smaller ship but they insisted. Something that big at the speed they used had only a fifty per cent chance of making it through.”
“I believe you. Back when I was a captain out on the Rim I sent reports back that were ignored in favour of more reliable sources. It’s the price we pay for being out of the loop. So as I understand it you’re telling me a slaver could have made this trip in about two weeks if they had your algorithms?”
“Sure, no problem. How would they have got them though?”
“The computer data centre on Kerberos was hit during the riots and protests. I think we lost many guys when it was stormed. A lot of data was taken before it was cut off from the main data feed. It’s possible they could have got it there,” suggested Bishop.
“Maybe, or somebody could have just sold the software code. It would be worth a lot of money on the black market.”
“Kowalski, are you sure the Tamarisk could do the trip in four days? I know she is bigger than most small transports but she’s been refitted with a more powerful computer, engines and power plant.”
“I’ve already done the calculations, Sir. We can be there in ninety three-hours if we leave right now.”
Commander Anderson looked at the rest of his crew. There were only four of them now but they were becoming almost a family. Bishop an experienced Marine Corps veteran and Kowalski his best friend, one of the top techs in the Corps. Then Teresa, the demure but hot headed Hispanic fighter, who seemed to have limitless energy when it came to getting what she wanted. Anderson himself had been the XO of the Battlecruiser Crusader but this job was something special and needed his skills that he had learned taking on the organised crime syndicates out on the Rim. He just hoped that when this was all done and finished he could get back to being number two on the flagship.
“Good, confirm the course for Prometheus and get going at maximum speed. I’ll contact the Admiral. I suggest you all check the files on our destination. It is not the place to arrive at unprepared.”
“Sir!” came the almost instantaneous reply from his crew.
As the Commander moved away from the computer and along the corridor, Bishop turned to look at the other two. Kowalski looked completely unaffected by the turn of events and moved back to looking at the data, Teresa’s face on the other hand was positively glowing.
“You look like you’ve hit the jackpot.”
Teresa raised one eyebrow as she looked back at him.
“Well, this gets us one step closer to them doesn’t it?”
“Let’s hope so,” he said and then turned back to Kowalski. “Can you get the schematics of the Prometheus Seven Trading Post? What kind of place is it?”
“No problemo, here it is.”
On the display a rotating model of the large station appeared. It wasn’t military, or at least it didn’t have the look of any of the naval stations used throughout the System. As the model rotated it seemed the station was not far off the size of the station on Kronus.
“How big is that place?”
“It’s big, I mean real big. It’s based on the early Bernal sphere design, it’s intended as a long-term home for permanent residents but according to the data here the station has been moved from accommodation to mainly trade and commerce. It used to be called the Prometheus Seven Colony. It is almost two thousand metres in diameter, giving it a circumference of over six kilometres. At this size the station should be able to house anything up to one and two hundred thousand people.”
“Why isn’t it used as a colony anymore?”
Teresa cut in, “Since it was built a number of stations have been built on the moons and there are scores of compounds on the surface that use the planet’s heat to drive thermal generators. Apparently much of the population moved during the last few decades to the surface and the new cities being built there are well shielded. Still, give me a lush green world with air and an actual breathable atmosphere.”
“Screw that, Teresa,” muttered Bishop, “all the images I’ve seen of Prometheus make it look like hell.”
“It is. You get used to it though. When I worked there I spent most of my time on the stations but I did do a bit of manual labour underground. Trust me, you don’t want to work there. Doesn’t matter how much they pay you, it isn’t worth it!”
She looked back at the display and smiled. “Somewhere out there are Spartan, Marcus and the General. And you know what? We’re going to find them!”
* * *
“Help me!” cried Misaki as she tried to massage the expired man on the ground. It was pointless, his heart had stopped, he wasn’t breathing and the pool of blood was increasing. It looked like there was little chance anything could be done. Even so Misaki refused to back down and continued the heart massage in the grim hope something might change.
“Come on, let’s out of here!” shouted one of the men as he banged on the now closed door.
The rest of them stood still, all waiting for the thing to emerge from the shadows. Spartan moved in front of Misaki and the fallen man and held the metal pipe on his right shoulder like a baseball bat.
“Misaki, he’s dead, come on!”
Misaki ignored him though her frustration was obvious. She carried on pounding at the man’s chest and shouting out.
Spartan looked in the direction of the shape that moved out into the light. Of all the people in the open space only Spartan seemed unperturbed by the great hulk. It was a Biomech, one of the creatures that Spartan had come across several times now. After these encounters he was still in awe of the mass and power of these things. This one looked more like the ones he had seen in the urban combat operations on Prime. It was armoured up with improvised metal plates and carried what looked like a heavy iron maul in each hand. With a roar the Biomech moved directly into the light and planted its feet, glancing around as the people scattered through the open space.
“Misaki!” called out Spartan as he stood his ground.
The young woman picked herself up and moved up to him, her own improvised mace out and ready.
“What is it?” she asked, a trembling tone in her voice.
“It’s one of those Biomech shock troopers the Zealots have been using, keep away from it!”
Pushing in front he swung his metal pipe, drawing the attention of the creature. Three of the other people moved towards Spartan, either for safety or recognising that he seemed to know what he was doing. The creature stood still, as though it was waiting for an order. As the rest waited a shrill whine blasted from hidden speakers.
“Welcome to our little training arena. In front of you is one of our pets. He is the smallest and youngest. Today’s test is to survive until the bell hits ten chimes. There are no rules, just survive until the time runs out!”
The creature roared and rushed ahead directly towards Spartan. He stood still and waited, his weapon in po
sition and ready for the fight.
“Let’s do this!” Spartan shouted and to their surprise he ran forward to meet it head on.
“Spartan!” Misaki screamed as she watched him rush directly into the path of the monster. It was like a tale from Ancient history with a mythical hero tackling a Minotaur or other ferocious beast.
As Spartan reached striking distance it swung its right arm and brought the mace on a collision course with Spartan’s head. The bell struck one and at the same time the mace whistled towards his face. With incredible speed and timing he ducked down at the last minute and leaned out to strike the passing creature in the back of the knee. It might have been bigger and stronger than any of them there but its knees were still vulnerable to an attack. As his metal bar struck the thing lots its balance and slid onto its back, flailing about in anger. Spartan stood up and turned around to look directly into its eyes. He stepped forward but it was already up off the ground and snarling. A few of the prisoners rushed from the side to try and take advantage of the moment to strike. The bell struck again.
“No! Stay back!” shouted Spartan. They either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
The first man stabbed hard with a small knife only to find it got stuck in the creature’s thick hide. It swung its left arm and struck the man in the temple with its mace. The crunch of bone made a terrible sound and the man was dead before his lifeless corpse hit the ground. The others waved their weapons and made ineffectual strikes but with the death of their comrade they lost the will to close the distance.
Spartan pushed forward and swung his bar in an arc just a short distance from its face. The attack missed but did force a response. Instinctively the creature tried to parry the strike but hit nothing but air. Its inexperience showed as it twisted around and exposed its right flank. Spartan wasted no time in slamming the heavy metal hard into its ribs and breaking at least two of them. One of the women jumped forward and managed to hit the creature on the head but hit the armoured skullcap causing nothing but a loud sound. The bell continued to ring though none of them were paying attention, just concentrating on staying alive. It swung at the woman but Misaki managed to jump in striking the weapon aside with her own mace and then drag the woman to safety.
“You!” shouted Spartan as he pointed his weapon at the creature. It roared at him though there were no intelligible words, just animalistic noises.
It swung the maces, clearing the rest of the prisoners away until a small, loose line of them stood with Spartan on the right of the group. As it moved forward one step at a time they move in around Spartan, finally understanding that their best chance lay with him. They prepared for another attack when the bell rang out for the tenth and final time. In synchronisation with the sound a series of lights came on around the arena.
The creature stopped its attack and lowered its weapons, whether it was a signal from the lights and sounds or it was simply used to the procedure was unclear. All they did know was that for now the fight was over. The whistle from the speakers came back, followed by the man’s voice. As he spoke the beast turned away and returned to the large doorway from where it had entered the arena. As it approached the door slid open revealing four heavily armed guards with their weapons pointed at the prisoners.
“Congratulations. Some of you have passed your first test,” came the voice from the speakers.
The entry door opened with a dull grinding sound and two of the prisoners who were still lurking nearby jumped through and into the arms of the waiting guards who pushed them back inside.
“Follow the guards backs to your quarters, you will face a new and much tougher test tomorrow.”
The sound cut off and the guards beckoned for them to follow as several men in lab coats approached the two bodies and started to lift them onto stretchers.
“What the hell is this place?” Misaki asked.
Spartan looked at the guards and then back to her.
“I don’t know, one thing I do know,” he said before leaning in closer to her, “I’m not waiting around to find out.”
CHAPTER SIX
It is one of the ironies of the new colonies in Alpha Centauri that some of the oldest nationalities from Earth would come to find new homes in Space at the expense of the old world on Earth. Whereas in the past Italians, Germans and British citizens had flocked to the New World of the Americas a new wave of colonists travelled to such places as Carthago and Terra Nova to establish new communities that worked hard to stay true to their old routes. British communities on Terra Nova still fly the flag on traditional public holidays and the National Flags are still worn by some on their military uniforms, as is the right of all citizens of the Confederacy. Italian-Novans constituted some of the earliest Confederate Army units.
The Old World meets the Newer World
“Spartan, is that your real name?” Misaki asked.
The two were sat on the wooden benches running along the side of their quarters, along with the survivors of the first confrontation with the Biomechs. The quarters for the red group was cramped but seemed at least a few metres bigger than what the rest had to manage with.
“Yeah, it’s my name.”
“That’s it? You must have another name?”
Spartan said nothing, either he was too tired to speak or not prepared to say anymore. Misaki waited for a little longer before speaking again. They had all had a thorough medical examination before being given their uninspiring overalls. The colour was a kind of faded orange and at some time they must have belonged to a company as the logos had all been ripped off, leaving small patches and holes in various places.
“What do you think is going on here?”
This question seemed to get Spartan’s interest, even making him sit up and look at her briefly before speaking.
“A few things are pretty clear to me. First, this place is illegal. The weapons, armour and layout would have serious problems with Confederate control. Second, slave labour being used in pit fights is dodgy, very dodgy.”
“How so?”
“Trust me, it is. The last bit though is those Biomechs. They are related to the Zealots and their masters in the Church of Echidna. Why are they here and why were some being transported to this place on our ship?”
“The Church of Echidna, aren’t they the people who started the secession in the first place? I thought they were offering a peaceful, safer alternative to that of corporate control through the Confederacy?”
“You think so, Misaki? I’ve seen their peaceful ways, now you’ve seen them too!” he replied with a slightly raised tone that he immediately regretted.
From the far wall a pair of armed guards approached. They were again dressed in the dark body armour he’d seen when they arrived, each carried a shotgun and side arm. They were much more heavily equipped than any prison guards he had heard of. They moved up to the metal bars of their sleeping area and looked inside.
“What’s going on in there?”
The guard was met with total silence.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Remember the rules, break them and you pay the price.”
The second guard started to laugh, evidently enjoying the reminder of the power and control he had over the prisoners. He lingered a little too close though and Spartan was able to get a good look at his equipment and clothing. They waited a few more seconds before walking off to harass another group of prisoners.
“What were you looking for?”
Spartan lifted up his hand, waiting to make sure the guards were well out of sight and hearing before looking back at her. He indicated her to move closer. She crept forward, doing her best to make as little sound as possible and stopped close to his face.
“When we were being transported here I noticed the guards wore a snake symbol on their uniforms. Those guards had the same patch on their uniforms. I think it might be a department of one of the churches. Don’t snakes have something to do with one of the religions?”
“Well, I
do know that Echidna was half woman half snake and supposedly responsible for creating all monsters in the ancient world. Maybe that has something to do with it?”
Spartan scratched his chin as he considered the information.
“If these guards are part of a militant department or corporation they could easily be linked to the Church. They’ve been dealing behind the scenes for a long time I’ve been told and I would bet good money they supply the insurgents with money, weapons and intel.”
“That makes sense, Spartan, the insurgents do have a lot in common with the Echidna missionaries. The next question though is what the hell are they doing here on Prometheus and even more important, why are we here? I’ve heard that there used to be all kinds of state funded research, especially biological and chemical science on this planet. Maybe the Biomechs are being brought here to be experimented on. They could be trying to improve or train them to be better fighters.”
“Maybe. I’ve seen them in action though and they can fight perfectly well, they certainly don’t need any more training to be effective. There’s also the issue of all of us here. So yes, what the hell are we doing here?”
Misaki considered this for a moment.
“Good point. Prisoners are either being held here for political reasons or as a resource. From the way they treat us I’d say we’re a resource.”
“I agree.”
Spartan heard something and lowered his head to avoid attracting attention. Of the small group remaining from the battle in the arena all were asleep or resting, each waiting for whatever hardship would be meted out next. One man lay on the floor, he had been groaning for the last hour from the heavy impacts he had sustained during the fight with the Biomech. Misaki was convinced it was broken ribs but neither the guards nor the other prisoners had much in the way of medical training. One of the guards re-appeared but this time he moved on past the bars and ignored them, he appeared content to just let them see him. As he moved off Misaki moved her face closer to Spartan’s ear and whispered quietly.
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