by Richard Fox
“Olivia Kendrick. But you weren’t part of the original colony. How did you get here? How did you find us?”
“I’m part of a second colony mission. We got here on the Enduring Spirit three days ago.”
“Then that means…we won the war? How big is your ship? Did you bring Marines? Rangers…armor?”
“Just got my team with me for now,” Carson said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes as she rubbed her cheeks. Her expression changed, however, to one of concern and fright. “You came in a ship? You shouldn’t have come here. If they get ahold of that ship too…” She dropped to her knees. “Oh, god.”
Carson reached out and touched her shoulder. “No one’s going to get our ship. I need to know what’s happened, who the enemy are, how many people are here. I’m in the dark; help me out.”
Olivia looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“We all came here expecting to find a fully functioning human colony, not a ghost town filled with monsters. We all thought this system was uninhabited.”
Olivia sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “So did we,” the woman said. “Everything was fine for the first few years. We built New Jefferson, set up an infrastructure, got through the first winter easily; everything happened just as everyone imagined it would. That is, until we received the distress call from Negev. From this mountain.
“The governor sent a scouting party to investigate and they found those alien bastards, the Triumvirate. They told us they’d been imprisoned here for thousands of years and needed our help to escape.”
Olivia looked down at her soiled hands. “I’m just a journeyman hydro-farmer, so I wasn’t included in the senior staff discussions or any of the dealings with the Triumvirate, but I heard they wanted off Negev and a ship to get back to their home world.”
“Not much on Terra Nova to go back to,” Carson said.
“Not there, somewhere else,” Olivia said. “The governor, God rest his soul, didn’t want to help them at first. If the Triumvirate went back to their system, it would put a giant spotlight on us back here, and we weren’t ready to defend ourselves. The governor wanted to wait until the next wave came…if you came at all. War wasn’t going too well when we left.”
“Things were fine for months after first contact, then our outpost here went dark. We sent a ship to investigate…and only Hale came back. He was…different. Not as far gone as he is now.”
“Hale? You mean Jared Hale?”
“You know him?” Olivia’s eyes went wide.
“His—” Carson stopped before she could say that Ken Hale was aboard the Enduring Spirit and in command of the second wave. Too many unknowns to let slip something that crucial. “Doesn’t matter. Keep going.”
“He said he represented the Triumvirate. Demanded raw materials and workers to help them leave the planet. When the governor refused…Hale let his Netherguard loose.”
“The Netherguard?” Carson asked. “You mean the altered doughboys.”
Olivia nodded. “They swarmed the colony overnight, killed anyone that resisted, and then they separated the men from the women, took the children away. They shuttled us over in that damn ore ship.” She rubbed her wrists. “Then they put us to work in this mountain. Strict shifts. We’re separated from all the other compartments. It’s been me and the other girls growing beans and potatoes for years. We get some word from the others every once in a while. They’re building a ship in the main chamber. They cannibalized the Christophorous to make it. Some of us tried to fight back, but the Netherguard are brutal and there’s so many of them. Every time we’d resist, they’d do a decimation. Pick one in ten and kill them on the spot. No mercy. It didn’t matter if the person had been involved in the riot or not. I heard my husband was killed early on…and he was no fighter.
“If a Netherguard was killed, they’d murder your entire family in front of you. Resistance stopped after that. We’ve clung to the hope the Triumvirate might let us go home after their ship is done. You coming here is a dream come true. No armor? You didn’t bring a single one of them?”
“Yeah, the armor’s awful busy back in the Milky Way, sorry. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It’s better now.”
“Better? You’re being held prisoner here?”
“But we’re not starving anymore. I know my boys are alive. That’s all that matters to me.”
“The rest of the colonists, they’re here?” Carson asked.
“What’s left of us, yes. We’re kept separated, but we’ve managed to stay in touch with each other. The Netherguard are mean and tough, but they’re not that smart.”
“I’ve noticed.” Carson looked back at the door they’d come through, then back at Olivia. “So what do they want? Why do they need to build a new ship when they had the Christophorous?”
“I’m not sure—”
Olivia cut off as the door clicked open at the back of the room. Carson slipped back into the dense foliage, activating her camouflage. “Shhh,” she told Olivia. “Stay calm, act normal.”
Two Netherguards entered the room, stopping just inside the door. One slammed its club against the floor. “Come.”
Olivia gave the underbrush where Carson had been a worried look, then seemed to steel herself and moved off toward the guards. She stepped aside to let one of the guards pass her, then stopped, head down, by the door.
The Netherguard moved cautiously through the trees, head swinging back and forth, its nose raised into the air.
Can it smell me? Carson thought, slowly backing away from the approaching alien. It paused near where the two women had been talking and sniffed the air again, free hand inspecting the tree where Carson had been standing. After several moments, the Netherguard at the door shouted something Carson didn’t understand. The alien waved a hand back at its companion, then pulled an avocado off the tree and took a bite.
Olivia allowed the aliens to escort her from the room and they shut the door behind them.
West’s outline appeared in front of Carson, his form disguised by his camo-cloak. “We need to get this information back to Hale.”
Carson shook her head. “We need more. Netherguard numbers. How many colonists are still alive. I know Hale; he won’t leave anyone behind.”
“This news about the Director’s brother isn’t good,” West said. “Jared Hale’s gone traitor. We can’t expect the Director to be rational about this.”
“Ken Hale is a war hero, the founder of the Pathfinder Corps, and a true leader,” she said. “He’ll do what’s right.”
“It’s your call, ma’am,” West said. “What’s our next move?”
“Let’s get a look at this ship they’re building.”
Chapter 10
Jared marched through what had once been the command deck of the Christophorous. Repurposing it for the Ultari vessel had been an order, one that was not to be questioned. He lumbered down the corridor, noting the non-human changes to the ceiling and a golden plaque on the entrance to the bridge that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been summoned.
That this new ship still didn’t have a name bothered him; it was bad luck for a vessel to go without a name after the keel was laid.
Bad luck…by human custom.
His Netherguard stopped well short of the bridge and stood against the bulkheads. The doors slid open for him and he fell to his knees as soon as he crossed the threshold. He set both palms to the deck and pressed his forehead to the chill metal, kowtowing to his masters.
He held the pose as heavy footsteps sounded around him.
“Rise,” came from a deep voice with a machine edge.
Jared got to his feet, head still bowed. The smell of ozone made his face twitch, and a tinge of fear gripped his heart.
“At last your promises have come true,” a new voice said, the tone on the edge of a growl.
Jared looked up. A robot
stood before him, the frame edged with razors, the head bearing a crown of spikes. Photoreceptors for eyes glowed yellow beneath a flat face. The robot raised a three-fingered hand, the digits overly long and bearing an extra knuckle. A blade snapped from out beneath the wrist. The edge hummed as the robot flicked it past Jared’s face.
“Earth has sent another ship, Prince Zviera?” Jared asked. After so many years, could it be true?
“Several ships.” The prince turned and walked away, moving on legs with the knees reversed, like a cat’s hind legs.
“Will these have what we need?” another robot asked from within a holo globe. Alien writing and images of human anatomy flowed around Arch Duke Cigyd, his frame thinner than the prince’s and without the sharp ornamentation.
“I…am confident,” Jared said. “If Ibarra sent this many ships, the chance is far higher that one with the key is with them.”
“If you had delivered the Shannon woman, then this would not be necessary,” Zviera said. “We could have left this prison years ago.”
“Such impatience,” a third voice said. In the center of the bridge, a throne built into a dais slowly twisted around. A robot with a gleaming silver chassis edged in gold and with a scarlet sash over one shoulder regarded Jared with golden eyes. Even though none of the robots had faces to carry their expression, Jared could still feel their emotions.
Emperor Kyrios stood up. At nearly ten feet tall, he towered over Jared.
“How long did we suffer, trapped in the mind locks?” Kyrios rapped his knuckles against the prince’s chest. “Then the god of vengeance answered our pleas by delivering the humans to our doorstep. For millennia, we waited for the chance to escape, and we received just enough to test us, enough to goad the foolish into disaster.”
“The empire will know us,” Zviera said. “No matter our form.”
“They knew you in your armor,” Cigyd said. “They knew us in the flesh.”
“And they will know us again,” the emperor said. “Then we will return to our rightful place…what is it your people believe about revenge?”
“It is a dish best served cold,” Jared said.
“And why rush to deliver judgment when we can return to our people as they remember us…and with a weapon that’s never been encountered before?” the emperor asked.
“They brought a Crucible?” Jared asked.
“Our augers detect the material, this omnium, used to construct the jump gates. Your promise was true,” Emperor Kyrios said. “But is this new batch of humans as foolish as the first?”
“They can be reasoned with.” Jared moved toward the emperor and stopped mid-step. The prince’s armor glowed around his fingers. “Please, Emperor, there’s no need for—” The metal around his throat tightened, cutting him off.
“You delivered our slaves with much difficulty,” Prince Zviera said. “You wasted our time hunting for Shannon, a hunt you convinced us to abandon. Such a record is not tolerated by the Ultari. I would have thrown you into the vats for processing after you squandered so many of our slaves in the coup. Now the keys to our final victory are within reach and you want us to trust you?”
Jared gagged and clawed at his neck as his vision darkened.
“Enough,” the emperor said, and Jared felt a rush of blood return to his head.
“I have a trap waiting,” the prince said to the emperor. “One laid years ago. Give the order.”
“Patience,” the emperor said. “We’ve waited so long…a little more patience for an elegant solution. If these new humans require pain to learn, then you will be the teacher, Zviera.”
****
Hale leaned forward, both hands pressed against the conference table, and sighed. A 3D map of the human colony on Terra Nova was laid out over the surface of the table, red flags marked where the Pathfinders had encountered the hostile doughboys. The remainder of the town was marked in orange; un-cleared territory.
Holos of Captain Handley and Lieutenant Park—second in command on the ground—stood around the table with Hale.
The Director looked at the front line trace of Handley’s troops and felt annoyed. Their progress had been slow since they’d landed. The captain hadn’t moved with the normal driving purpose and violence of action typical of Strike Marines. That the captain was trying to lead an ad hoc group of fighters who’d been organized into scientific and construction divisions days before, not platoons that had drilled and trained together for months, explained his advance out of the drop zone.
“We can drop drones here and here,” Handley said, indicating two locations on the outskirts of the colony. “And two down here. We can risk a closer landing for the second wave from this clearing once I sweep it for threats.”
Park crossed his arms. “I’d sure like to know what they are using to take out our drones. Our techs have been over those vids a hundred times and still can determine what actually shot the Sergeant Birch’s drones out of the sky.”
“We’re trying to look around with inspection drones. These aren’t Wraith units like we had in the Corps. How many we have left?” Hale asked.
Park consulted his data pad. “Twenty-two.”
“Should be more than enough to support ground operations,” Handley offered. “We’re not losing them when we keep their elevation over a thousand feet. We’re also barely looking through a soda straw of their optics to gather intelligence. Wrong tool for the wrong job.”
Hale sighed. “It’s not ideal, but it’s all we’ve got. I need you all to gauge the enemy numbers. See if we can clear it out with minimal casualties or I have to load up one of our mining ships with rocks and use it as a kinetic strike against the place. It’s much easier to turn the lights back on than it is to rebuild the entire city. That, and we can’t be sure if all of our people have been removed. Either way, we can’t stay in orbit indefinitely. At some point, we’re going to have to act.”
“No contact yet,” Handley said. “Working out some…friction…before we push in further.”
Hale glanced up as Marie entered the conference room, her staff hot on her heels. She’d pulled from the same pool of ex-military as he had, and fortunately both had acquired competent help. God knows they’d both dealt with their share of incompetent commanders.
He gave her a tired smile and she kissed his cheek.
“How’s production?” he asked as she stepped around the table, taking in the holographic map.
“We should have another 1000 sets of basic body armor and the same number of rifles ready to issue in the next few hours. We’re testing and fitting as soon as they come off the line. Full capability Strike Marine suits will take longer, and that’s not including fitting and the time it’ll take our former jar heads to remember how to wear them again.”
“Like riding a bike or flying an Eagle Starfighter,” Hale said. “How long until we can send a fully equipped company down?”
“Two days if you rush,” she said. “Three if the armor is as easy as you say it is. And I’d like to see you try and fly anything.”
Captain Handley straightened. “Sir, without having an accurate assessment of the enemy’s capabilities, not to mention where their strongholds are and how many combatants we’re looking at, it’s almost impossible to estimate those odds. We’re talking about assaulting an entrenched enemy force that we know nothing about with a company of retired soldiers who haven’t seen combat in years, if ever.”
“I understand, Captain. Believe me, I do. I’ve been there, several times. Unfortunately—”
An alert chime echoed through the conference room, interrupting Hale. Commander Edison’s voice came through unseen speakers. “Director Hale, we’re receiving a transmission, sir.”
Hale looked up at the ceiling. “Transmission? From who?”
“Unknown, sir. It’s coming through on the emergency band, but the signals are being scrambled somehow. I’m having the comms people scrub it as we speak.”
“Is it the Valiant?”
/> “No, sir, it appears to be a localized transmission.”
Hale raised an eyebrow at his wife, who shrugged. “Send it through to the conference room.”
“Aye, sir.”
The holo-image of the colony vanished, replaced by a cloud of static, hovering just above the surface. A broken voice spoke, however the words cracked and popped, barely audible over the static. The faint outline of what looked like a head materialized.
Hale leaned forward, squinting, trying to make out the image. “Can we clean this—”
The static faded, the voice becoming understandable. The image cleared, and Hale’s blood ran cold. The mechanical skull, with deep red eyes set back into its face. The long, skinny jaw didn’t move as the being spoke, its voice low and mechanical.
“I will speak with your hegemon.”
The gathered tensed like deer sensing a predator.
“This is Director Ken Hale of the Enduring Spirit. To whom am I speaking?”
The alien turned, apparently looking at something off screen. It returned its gaze to Hale a moment later. “An interesting development.”
“The human colonists who were living on the surface, where are they? What have you done with them?”
The metal face turned from side to side slowly, examining Hale with each eye.
“This is my domain. You will submit.”
Hale straightened. “If you think humans are in the habit of bowing down to every alien that asks for it, you’re in for a disappointment. What have you done with the first colonists?”
“You will bow to me. Either with a claw to your neck or not.”
“Look,” Hale said, deciding to try a different tack. “I don’t know who or what you are, but I’ve had just about enough of beings like you with superiority complexes and lack of tact. If you believe we are intruding, then let’s discuss it. We were told this system was unoccupied. Unfortunately, the ones that sold us on that aren’t here to explain themselves. I’ve had a little bit of experience settling territorial differences. I’m sure we can reach an agreement, but I have to know what has happened to the other colonists.”