Slaves of Hyperion (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 6)

by Thomas, Michael G.

  “Do that again, and I’ll have you up on charges!” he said calmly but with conviction.

  The man lifted his hand once more, and Spartan delivered a powerful punch directly into the man’s stomach. It was short and hard and knocked all the air out of the cadet’s chest. He dropped to his knees and choked for air.

  “Now, everybody clear this place!” he shouted.

  This time the crowds moved back to reveal two Biomechs. Each of the monstrous creatures stood almost three metres tall and was heavily armoured in crude looking metal with the symbols of axes on their chests. The nearest looked to Spartan, but only part of its face was visible due to the armoured helm fitted tightly around his skull.

  “Spartan!” it roared and then lurched forward, both of its arms raised high.

  The young soldiers with Spartan fanned out, each adopting a balanced fighting stance, just as each had been taught back in basic training. The creature was already at Spartan and swung its right arm around in an exaggerated hook. It swept towards Spartan who took one step forward and did the same. Their muscled arms crashed together with a dull thud into a lock. Those around them watched in confusion and surprise at the odd turn of events.

  “Khan, you crazy bastard!” laughed Spartan with genuine pleasure.

  Khan started to laugh with the low rumble that all the Jötnar shared. These synthetic creatures were in fact the most recent models of Biomechs that the Zealots and their allies had created. Unlike the early designs, they were possibly entirely artificial and had been created in the factories back on Prometheus. It was hard to tell how much of them was made from harvested human material and how much was completely synthetic. They were sentient though, and Spartan was under no illusions that they represented a subspecies of humanity that deserved respect for what they had done. Khan turned to one of his comrades, a Jötnar warrior Spartan had never seen before.

  “This is Osk,” he said in much better English than in their last encounter.

  Spartan looked at the Jötnar and scratched his forehead.

  “There’s something different, what is it?”

  Khan laughed even louder and much to the annoyance of the crowd who were starting to become frustrated at the noise. Spartan turned and looked at any that were coming too close. It was then that he spotted his comrades from New Carlos. He waved them over and each moved slowly, suspicious of the three-metre tall monsters.

  “These are fellow warriors from Centauri Prime. They fought hard and in hand-to-hand combat during the battle for New Carlos.”

  Khan nodded to all of them and placed his hand across his chest.

  “If Spartan speaks for you, then you have my respect. He told us of New Carlos. A difficult battle.”

  There appeared to be genuine warmth in the tone of Khan, and Spartan worried his friend may have changed more than he realised. He did see the look in his eye and detected the dark humour that seemed to lie at the bottom of every Jötnar’s soul. He turned back to Osk and tilted his head towards the creature.

  “Osk, the first female Jötnar,” he explained.

  “Female? How did this happen? I thought all Jötnar were male?”

  Khan nodded at his question. It was a fair point, as the Jötnar had been created male with no ability to generate further offspring. From what the military scientists had explained, it was probably just a simple way of keeping their experiment under control with a limited lifespan and no ability to create further generations without their help. Khan gave a lopsided grin from his immense jaw at Spartan’s confusion.

  “Anderson, he said for our species to live we will need differences.”

  The female soldier with curly hair was listening to the conversation with great interest. At the last part she seemed desperate to add her own views.

  “It makes sense to us. The Jötnar are all based on a standard design with little variation. Even with male and female in the species, there will never be enough variation to avoid defects and interbreeding problems.”

  Spartan recalled the arguments after the fall of Terra Nova and the factories and equipment that had been used to create the Biomechs. The factories had been badly damaged, but there were also the implications of a race of beings that could be manufactured at will. Some humans rejected their place in society, and others were fearful the factories could produce untold millions of monsters that could enslave humanity. Then there were the liberals who worried about the Jötnar themselves. By controlling their reproduction, humanity maintained a yoke over them, and one that could consign their race to servitude or extinction. Only their war record, and the promises made by the Confederate High Command and the President himself had stopped a new war breaking out in the last weeks of the war.

  Jötnar fighting the Confederacy, glad we avoided that one!

  Spartan thought back to the last months after the fall of Terra Nova. There had been many reprisals, especially against collaborators but also against Biomechs in general. He had seen papers suggesting over half the population had been wiped out in the three months of purges and violence. The Jötnar considered the Biomechs their untamed brothers and had proven extremely capable in taming them and bringing them under their control. The Biomechs had quickly turned from confused and helpless creatures into violent monsters by their tormentors. He recalled the emergency briefings about a possible war between the crippled Confederacy and the Jötnar and their Biomech brothers. A deal had been forged that guaranteed the right to life for all the Biomechs and the choice to be rehoused with the Jötnar, a choice almost all took. Part of the deal was that the Jötnar would be granted control of any lost unprogrammed Biomechs.

  The two Jötnar were busy talking about their comrades and Spartan listened with interest. The last he had heard from Gun, the leader of the Jötnar, was that they had been working with Commander Anderson on a variety of medical issues. He was confused though at how the female Jötnar had arisen.

  “I thought the military forbade the creation of any more Jötnar or Biomechs of any kind? In fact, I’m pretty sure it was one of the demands of most of the colonies that it was to form part of the Alliance Constitution as well as granting limited right to the Jötnar?”

  Khan nodded feverishly.

  “Yes, but Anderson found two Biomech transport ships near Euryale, all with dormant and partly constructed synthetics on board. He had a choice, finish them or kill them. Gun said birth, or the deal with the Alliance was off. He used them to make random changes.”

  Khan grinned at him with a sly look and leaned in to speak quietly.

  “One change wasn’t though. Anderson let us alter the sequence so they were all born female. Osk was the first.”

  Spartan was shocked, both at the idea the Biomechs might now be able to reproduce but also that Anderson had gone along with such a plan. It wasn’t that he disagreed, but he knew the Alliance and the Senate would probably have him court-martialled for what he had done. He looked at Osk and then to Khan.

  “How many females do you have now? Can they reproduce?”

  Khan grinned once more.

  “Two ships, each with more than a thousand Biomechs. Almost half are expecting offspring already. First new Jötnar is due in a few months. We have a lot of females now, and they are taking their time choosing mates.”

  “They?”

  “Well, there are lots of Jötnar and not many females to go around.”

  He looked around to Osk.

  “They can be very...picky!”

  Spartan stepped up to the female and looked at her. She looked very similar in build to Khan, and the only indications of her change of sex being a slightly larger chest and less harsh facial expression. He extended his arm in a sign of friendship. She sidestepped and pulled on his arm, instantly catapulting Spartan forward and to the ground. He landed hard but kept moving. He jumped up and kicked her in the back of the knee before she could turn. It was hard enough for her to lose balance but not enough to cause major damage. As she staggered, Spartan jum
ped up and forced his arm around her neck. The two crashed to the ground to the laughter of Khan. Two of the Terra Nova Guards jumped in to break it up, but Khan stepped in their path.

  “No, leave them!” he roared.

  Osk lay on her front with Spartan on top and doing his best to pin the much stronger Jötnar down. Apart from her name, he could see very little difference between the two of them. He pushed down harder and felt her twist. In seconds, he rolled off her to find the Jötnar pinning him to the floor. Her fist came hurtling to his face, and only months of experience of combat gave him the reflexes and muscle memory to avoid the strike. He used all the strength in his upper body and neck to head butt her in the mouth before she rolled off. Spartan lifted himself up and shook off the dust. Osk did the same and faced him with two trickles of blood running down her face.

  “You want some more?” said Spartan as he spat a mouthful of blood to the floor.

  She stopped and turned to Khan.

  “Gun was right. He is good,” she said with satisfaction before marching up to Spartan and swinging her arm much like Khan had done at first. Spartan twisted his left forearm to block it and stopped it just short of his chest. It was a strike although it was a mark of friendship. He looked at her bloodied face and friendly, if somewhat contorted smile. He knew the humour of the Jötnar and brought his right hand over to grasp hers.

  “Osk, nice to meet you,” he said as pleasantly as he could.

  She nodded to him and stepped back to the side of Khan.

  Spartan rubbed his face with the back of his hand and noted the blood, more annoying as the blood and dirt was on his dress uniform.

  There is a reason I usually stay with my fatigues!

  Khan called over to him and the soldiers.

  “You, and your friends. You have time for drink?”

  Spartan turned to the soldiers who looked confused.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “A drink with you and your Jötnar friends? Hell yes!” laughed the Corporal.

  Spartan nodded, pleased that at least he could spend some time with soldiers and fighters rather than the myriad of politicians and businessmen that seemed to be lurking throughout the building.

  “What about the rest of you?” he asked the other soldiers.

  A chorus of acknowledgements confirmed that the small band of soldiers would head to the nearest bar. Spartan gave Khan a friendly punch, and the group moved off down the main hallway, to the astonishment of the assembled patrons.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Following the Union defeat at Terra Nova the 1st Jötnar Battalion transferred to the fire world of Prometheus. As their birthplace, it was also the only part of the Confederacy that was relatively unpopulated. As part of their agreement to fight in the War, they were guaranteed freedoms and rights, but many citizens resented the Biomechs playing any part in civilised society. A solution to the Jötnar Question may have been war, had it not been answered by scientists and the unexpected events at Hyperion.

  The 1st Jötnar Battalion

  The circular Senate House was probably the most elaborate and exquisitely detailed structure Spartan had ever sat inside. According to the information he had read on the flight down to the surface, this part of the Palace had been rebuilt in marble a generation before the Great War of over fifty years ago, and had housed the Council for centuries. It had always been the seat of power for the planet and ultimately for the Confederacy. Scores of lavish marble sculptures adorned alcoves in the wall. The seating was on multiple levels, apparently in imitation of ancient designs back on Old Earth. Old paintings of important officials were shown on almost every flat service. It was evidently a solemn place, and the atmosphere of seriousness pervaded the room to the extent that Spartan could almost feel a chill down his spine.

  Impressive, Teresa would love this place.

  Spartan’s eye was drawn from the room and its decorations to the centre of the chambers. On a large pedestal stood a massive sculpture of the spaceship Terra Nova, the original colony ship from which the planet had taken its name. Spartan had heard of the tales of the vessel but had never seen a model of it before. This one was almost five metres long, and it showed signs of repair that may have been due to violence or simple decay. Most of the ship seemed to be taken up by massive fuel cells, perhaps more than three quarters of its size. There were a few other key differences between this model and the ships he was familiar with. For one thing, it looked like the ship was unarmed. No vessel of that size would travel through space in his time without at least basic point defence and small calibre weapons. The ship would be at risk from pirates, raiders and kidnappers. There was also no form of rotating habitation ring like on the ships he was used to; in fact, the passenger section looked no different to the cargo holds on modern ships. He was confused for a moment before remembering what he had heard about the early voyages, and the time they had taken to travel long distances.

  Of course, the first settlers to Terra Nova were frozen. If they’d made the journey the way they travelled now, they would have been dying of old age.

  At least he was pretty sure that was how the first ship made the massive journey of about four light years centuries ago when they had arrived in orbit. There were so many myths and rumours surrounding the founding of each colony, and Terra Nova was no different to the rest. In many ways, the capital of the Confederacy had built up such a mythology that many believed the planet had been colonised for thousands of years, rather than the official three hundred and thirty years taught throughout the colonies. The sound of voices drew him back to what was probably the most boring meeting he had ever attended.

  “Let me ensure I understand this new proposal correctly,” announced a bitter sounding Marshal Arryne Youtler.

  He was the current Supreme Commander of the Army, and from what Spartan could tell, a bitter rival of the Marine Corps and Navy. This was Spartan’s fourth visit to the Chamber in the last week, and he was starting to be bored with the tedium of the discussion. Hours of wasted time, and he had not been asked a single question. He tried to think of something else, but the raised tone of the man’s voice snapped him out of his daze.

  “You have ignored my recommendation on splitting up the remains of the heavily depleted Marine Corps, and instead want to destroy the regular Army and use the resources saved to create battalions of weekend warriors? You understand this will reduce the overall quality of our armed forces, as well as increase the time it will take for us to be ready for major combat operations?”

  Defence Secretary Howalt Sones stood up to address the question. In the room sat a panel of almost a hundred other personnel. Most there were senior military officers, but there were a small number of representatives from each of the heavily depleted branches of the armed forces. The Navy, Marines and Army were all there as well as senior commanders of the planets’ own militia forces plus those from the civilian branches of the military.

  “Yes, we must make cuts, Marshal, but not quite in the way you imply. It is not our intention to slash and burn the military, nor do we intend on leaving our current forces as they are.”

  The Army commander tried to keep speaking, but the Defence Secretary remained standing.

  “Because of the incredible sacrifices taken by our armed forces, we have many units that are now unable to function.”

  He paused for a moment while checking some number before continuing.

  “Army units in Proxima Centauri are operating at less than thirty percent. Marine forces have been amalgamated to provide just two functioning expeditionary forces. Don’t even get me started on the Naval losses that are, quite frankly, astounding. In our current state, we are now incapable of maintaining any kind of major operation without a complete mobilisation of able-bodied citizens. Of course that is without looking at the asset stripping of Alpha Centauri by the Union during the occupation. It is not just the Army that needs reform,” he explained as he lifted up a thin book and waved to the rest of the as
sembled men and women.

  “Our military has become fractured and competitive. The Army vies for control of the colonies, while the Marines carry the mobility provided by the fleet but lack the heavy equipment and armour for sustained operations. While the Army retains the loyalty of its home planet, it suffers when stationed off world. The opposite is true of the Marines, who can be relied upon by the central command, but do not carry the same authority as the Army on many worlds.”

  He paused and took a sip of water before continuing.

  “Now, these proposed changes to the military will create a new force that is flexible, more capable and loyal to the Alliance, not individual colonies or planets. I think you’ll agree that the old idea of territorial forces has created a split that created more problems than it solved. At the same time, we have to reconcile the budget with the money now needed to rebuild following this war.”

  He sat down, and simultaneously half the members in the Chamber stood to argue. The discussion had been ongoing for hours now, and as far as Spartan could tell, this new paper was in its seventh revision; still they argued as if they had never seen it before. The Council Magistrate struck her hammer for the room to be silenced. Although she carried no actual power, it was her role to manage all meetings in the Chamber, and respect of her and her position was considered paramount.

  “Perhaps we might hear the opinions of some of those further from the top? Maybe those that lack the weight of responsibilities carried by each of the honourable commanders?” she said in a stern but polite tone.

  All but the Marshal returned to their seating, and it took a long, uncomfortable silence for the old army commander to finally be seated.

  “Good,” she said and then looked towards Spartan and the handful of junior officers.