Slaves of Hyperion (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 6)

by Thomas, Michael G.

  General Rivers stepped closer as if he was about to share some great secret.

  “My people believe there are only a few solutions to this problem. What we do know is that the machines come from that dome. Sergeant Morato established a comms surveillance post in the ruins, and over a period of an hour, we have monitored four more machines move from the dome.”

  “I see, so it could be a fabrication plant of some kind?” suggested Teresa.

  “Perhaps. There is one other thing, and it is something I can’t get my head around.”

  “What is it?” asked Captain Carlos.

  “The dome itself, it shares readings with the Anomaly. That, plus the images on the ruins, suggests an old link between the orb and the Anomaly.”

  As they spoke, there was a bright flash on one of the displays. Captain Carlos pointed it out, and all four turned to watch yet another of the four-legged machines move from out of the bright light. Flashes and sparks ran from the hills surrounding it, and dust and debris ran down the sides of the structures as though a minor earthquake was occurring. Spartan watched in fascination as the machine moved away from the dome, but it was the columns of shapes moving behind it that shocked him the most.

  “What the hell is that?” he demanded.

  Teresa shook her head.

  “I’ve seen those before. Three came aboard the Santa Maria with their Zealot commander, Pontus. They are vicious, like nothing I’ve seen before. From what I could tell, they were fully autonomous but carried out his orders, to the letter.”

  The orb dulled, and part of the dome’s structure snapped and dropped down nearby two workers. In seconds, a team of people were being pushed towards the debris while another team used ropes to climb the dome and start repairs.

  “So now they have another thirty of these things. Is it me, or does it seem a bit of a coincidence that reinforcements arrive the minute they confirm the location of your base?” asked Spartan.

  General Rivers and Captain Carlos looked at each other.

  “We need this place shut down. Whatever it is, it is a clear and present danger to the Alliance and us. These reinforcements could be the start of a Union fight back.”

  He looked to Spartan and Teresa.

  “I suggest you check your troops and get them ready for our next task. Meet me back here in fifteen minutes. Whatever we decide to do its going to have to be done fast, or those things will be down on us like a ton of bricks.”

  “Sir!” barked Spartan, followed quickly by a smart salute.

  He stepped out of the place along with Teresa, leaving the Marine Captain and the General to discuss strategy. Once outside it was clear the battle was over, for now at least. Dozens of wounded were being dragged back from where they had been fighting so that the medics could get to work on them. Khan walked towards them with a carbine totting Kowalski stood beside him.

  “Kowalski?” asked a surprised Teresa.

  She lurched forwards and grabbed him almost as eagerly as she had Spartan. The two went back to the Prometheus operation and had worked and fought beside each other for weeks. When she finally stepped back, there was a temporary uncomfortable silence before Khan spoke.

  “So, what next?”

  A growl, much like that of Khan, came from near the damaged shuttle on the riverbank. The lower barricades were still intact but only lightly defended on that side. From out of the water emerged the heads and shoulders of four Biomechs. Kowalski aimed his carbine, but Spartan knocked his weapon upwards as Khan was rushing towards them. It was a foolhardy charge, but by moving into their line-of-sight, the crazed Jötnar stopped them firing.

  “What the hell is he doing?” asked Kowalski.

  The first Biomech emerged from the water, and Khan intercepted it on the muddy bank. They crashed together with a thud, and Khan expertly flipped and threw the creature onto its back. The other three emerged from the water and moved closer. There was something strange going on though, as they stopped a short distance away.

  “Hold your fire!” called out Captain Carlos who had just arrived on the scene.

  Khan roared with an almost animalistic growl at the Biomechs and helped the fallen creature to its feet. It looked similar to Khan, but its body was less well-developed and covered in scratches and marks. A rough bandage was attached across its left shoulder from some previously inflicted wound. It straightened its back and to the surprise of them all, it spoke.

  “Who?” it asked in a rough voice with its head tilted slightly to the left.

  Khan stood up tall and looked back to the marines and others in the compound to ensure they didn’t shoot, before looking back.

  “My name is Khan, I am a Captain in the Jötnar.”

  “Jötnar?” asked the Biomech.

  “Yes, that is what we call ourselves. We are free from the Zealots.”

  The Biomech seemed to understand this and nodded towards Khan.

  “We fight them. The machines kill us now.”

  Noise from the riverbank announced the arrival of two-dozen more Zealots. They were dressed in the familiar dress and robes all the marines were used to. Most carried looted Confederate weapons and all attacked with the savagery and ferocity that only their kind resorted to. Half of them made it to the wooden stakes before rifle fire struck them. Some ran for Khan, and the others pushed past to get inside the compound.

  “Kill them!” roared Khan.

  The Biomech nearest to him turned around and rushed at the Zealots. With strength and incredible agility, it dodged the first burst of gunfire and struck its right arm into the man’s face. A second strike followed, and then the enemy overwhelmed it. Khan and the others waded in to help, but in doing so, they stopped most of the defending marines from helping out of fear of hitting Khan. They watched in awe as the four Biomechs and Khan smashed and hacked their way like harvesters working through a field. In less than a minute, the enemy were routed, leaving a single man badly wounded and screaming on the ground.

  “Leave him!” called out Captain Carlos and waved over two medics who ran over to attend to the wounded man.

  Spartan moved closer to the Biomechs and tried to assess what was happening, but more sporadic gunfire flashed around the base. He looked back to Teresa who was slightly behind and to the left.

  “This isn’t going to stop, is it?”

  She shook her head. He took a deep breath and shouted over to his Jötnar friend.

  “Khan! What’s happening over there?”

  He turned around from the group of Biomechs and looked directly towards Spartan. His armour was bloody from the short fight with the Zealots, and Spartan recognised the rage on his face.

  “They are telling me about the Zealots. Looks like they’ve been hunted down here since you sent out the signal on Terra Nova. They want revenge more than we do!”

  Spartan nodded in surprise.

  “Uh...okay. Are they a danger to us?”

  Khan shook his head.

  “Only if we attack them first.”

  Teresa tapped Spartan’s shoulder and moved closer to the group. She stopped next to Khan and opened her visor to reveal her face to both him and the Biomechs. With the air supply assistance gone, she found it harder to breathe and did her best to alter her breaths to make then slower and deeper. Khan nodded at her approach and looked to the confused Biomechs. Each of them towered almost three metres tall, yet she looked unconcerned.

  “This is Sergeant Morato, an Alliance Marine, and one of the people responsible for saving the Jötnar.”

  The four Biomechs looked at each other before the one that had been talking with Khan moved towards her. He looked at her for a moment and then reached out and struck her in the shoulder. The blow was hard, and she stumbled and fell to the floor. Kowalski shouted out and rushed forward, but Spartan grabbed him.

  “No, just wait...” he said quietly.

  Teresa lifted herself up and moved back to the Biomech who waited patiently. She straightened her shoulder a
nd barged into its lower chest while striking her armoured fist into its torso. It barely moved, yet when she stepped back and looked up, it was grinning at her. Spartan released Kowalski but slowly, so as not to draw attention.

  “That is a Biomech introduction. Be glad they aren’t doing the usual fight to the blood or loss of limb.”

  Kowalski looked back at him.

  “You’re telling me we have a truce?”

  Khan heard his voice and looked back at the marines.

  “Better than that. We might have an alliance.”

  * * *

  Admiral Churchill paced back and forth inside the spacious CIC of ANS Santa Cruz. It seemed like it had been weeks since he’d heard from Captain Spartan and his ground combat team. In reality, they’d been gone no more than a day, but he was becoming impatient. The fleet was ready, but the more information he received from the Captain of ANS Minotaur, the more he worried about moving any closer. Captain Lewis’ engineers had discovered dormant code in their computer systems, but all the timestamps had been removed. The good news was that in theory the fleet could move into orbit without fear of losing systems and power. That didn’t mean the ground batteries were nullified. The new footage shown to him by the Captain had been truly shocking. The surface weapons had destroyed an entire cruiser with a single blast.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” suggested Captain Schaffer as he watched the Admiral examine the video feeds of the attack on the small force, previously commanded by General Rivers.

  “What? Oh, yes,” said a slightly confused sounding Admiral Churchill.

  He turned around to the grim faced Captain.

  “My real concern is what happens when Spartan contacts us? It will take us hours to get people on the surface to help, and by then it could be too late.”

  The Captain looked worried at the implication.

  “I understand that, Sir, but what happens if we sit in orbit and stay too long. Putting it bluntly, he has twenty-four people down there. We have thousands in our ships. Can we risk our vessels for a small group?”

  Ko’mandor Gun heard his comments from where he stood waiting near the tactical station. At the mention of Spartan, he snorted in derision.

  “Gun, you have something to add?” asked Admiral Churchill.

  Gun looked up to them and nodded slowly.

  “Yeah. It’s not just Spartan down there. It could be all the men and women taken hostage or hiding out. We abandon them, and we risk thousands.”

  The Admiral looked back at the video feed one last time and froze the image on the first weapon impact. His engineers suggested it was a combination atomic device mixed with something else. They were vague, but he understood why, they simply had no idea. The weapon was fast, guided and capable of tactical nuclear levels of power.

  “Look, I don’t like any of the options, but we aren’t here to run this mission based on possibilities. Spartan will get the guns offline. He’s never failed before. According to my calculations, if he landed safely, he should be at the enemy compound by now. I want this taskforce in orbit and scanning the surface. All ships will have their crew and systems ready for immediate withdrawal from the area if there are signs of danger.”

  “But, Sir!” pleaded Captain Schaffer.

  Admiral Churchill shook his head.

  “No. We will do all we can to mitigate any dangers from the surface. Recheck our systems and post extra crew at the key part of each ship. Any signs of failure, and they can take manual control of lost systems. Upon arrival, I want all reconnaissance drones and fighter cover to move into lower orbit and run missile decoy duty.”

  Commander Malone, the ship’s XO, sighed at the news, but he seemed less appalled at the plan than his Captain.

  “Move to it, people, I intend on starting the engines in the next twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  Teresa and Spartan waited inside the cover of the tree line and checked area of rocks one last time. It was the first clear area and section of sky they had seen in the seven hours since leaving the compound, and Spartan was getting desperate about sending a signal. The longer they waited, the more worried he became about receiving help from the fleet.

  “Looks clear,” said Teresa through their intercoms.

  Spartan nodded, and the rest of the ASOG unit moved forward and past the rocks to secure the woodland beyond. Spartan clanked forward in his Vanguard armour and took up position on the rocks themselves. On his left leg was a sealed hatch, usually used to carry spare ammunition or fuel. He pressed the release button and withdrew the coded transmitter gear given to him by the Admiral prior to leaving. He’d already set the coding system but still checked his actual message he was about to send one last time. It was short but detailed and gave Admiral Churchill all the information they had on the enemy disposition, capabilities and the timing of their attack. The transmitter device was about the size of a small rucksack and featured a built-in automated tracker and encoded laser unit. The power source would expend all of its energy to send just a handful of messages, but the signal strength would be very powerful, and strong enough even to burn through the thick haze and out into space, providing he could locate a line of sight to the fleet. He, Teresa and three more of their team, were on a batch of rocks near the river while they waited.

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Teresa.

  He looked at her in her battered and partially damaged PSD suit. He looked like an armoured gorilla next to her, yet he made no more noise than her, primarily down to the outstanding level of engineering and resources laboured on the armour.

  “I know it’s a risk, but we need their help.”

  “What if we are too late? Or we fail?” she added.

  “Then a lot of good people down here and up there will die.”

  He checked the setting one final time and hit the release button. It took a few seconds while the unit updated its positioning. Provided the fleet was still waiting at the assembly area, the signal would reach them. Though it was wideband, the accuracy was critical, as the system was line of sight. A slight trajectory change of a single degree would miss the ships by kilometres. Even with the increasing arc, it would still need the level of accuracy only possible with an automated tracking head. He’d already be given clearance by General Rivers to do so, especially since seeing the video of the enemy reinforcements entering the camp. There were two main proposals concerning what the 0rb was. Most considered it was the exit point for some kind of manufacturing planet, whereas a smaller group were convinced it was a shielded entry point for an underground fortress or rallying point.

  “There, it’s done,” he said calmly.

  He was about to step down when the red failure light blinked three times.

  “What?” he muttered in confusion.

  “What is it?” asked Teresa.

  Spartan bent down and pressed the button to open up his thickly armoured helm. The thick, musky air rushed inside, and he felt as though he was inhaling soup. He kept calm and examined the unit and its log screen.

  “I don’t understand. There is no signal lock at the rendezvous location.”

  Teresa bent down and examined it as well before looking up to Spartan.

  “Why?”

  Sergeant Lovett spotted the commotion and moved closer to hear the end of their conversation.

  “Either they are unable to respond, or unwilling,” he suggested.

  Spartan nodded in agreement.

  “True. The signal lock has to be confirmed by a return transmission. I bet the Admiral has banned all outgoing signals in case they are detected down here. Come on, all we can do is assume it worked. Once we have the guns down, we can do a wide area scan and see if we can spot the ships.”

  Teresa looked at him oddly.

  “Spartan, you’re serious? We can’t detect vessels that far away. The gear can only pick up ships in orbit that are broadcasting friendly IFF signals.”

  Spartan smiled at her.

  �
��Let’s hope they are there when we need them, then.”

  He nodded to Sergeant Kowalski who packed the unit back up it its rugged mounting and slung it on his back. He and the rest of them moved back from the rocks and into the jungle. They had already pushed ahead of the main force to carry out this task and quickly returned to their previous course. Spartan and his small force of reinforcements mixed in with Teresa’s ASOG unit to form a motley vanguard unit to move ahead of the rest of the force. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to encourage General Rivers to organise a counterattack on the enemy compound. What had surprised Spartan was that the General had made them abandon their own base in its entirety. It reminded him of the old saying of’ burning your own ships’, and he just hoped they wouldn’t be forced to retreat back to a base that no longer existed.

  “Still, if we lose here, what will a few wooden barriers do for us?”

  The marines, soldiers, Vanguards and Jötnar moved in a loose line on a trail that ran parallel with the direction of the retreating Zealots. From where they were now, Spartan could just about make out the heat signature of three men, each still running to catch-up with the last of the four-legged machine that clambered its way back. The mission was a simple one. They would identify the weakest part of the enemy base, and under the cover of an all out assault, Spartan and a select team would infiltrate the site and disable or destroy the tracking system and weapons. Once the guns were down, the fleet could move into position and deploy five companies of ground troops plus provide air cover.

  “General, we have the enemy in sight. According to your maps, we’re two kilometres from the nearest mound in their compound.”

  There was a short delay before the General responded.

  “Good work, keep moving forward. Any sign of them bringing in reinforcements yet?”

  “Negative, Sir, but I am picking up increasing power levels ahead. It must be the dome and its power sources.”

  They continued onwards with the General and Captain Carlos bringing up the bulk of the forces in three columns, comprising of nearly a hundred men and women each. Only half were trained combatants, but today each of them carried whatever weapons they’d been able to recover from the bodies of the Zealots. It was one of the rare occasions where Alliance personnel could reclaim old Confederate weapons from those taken by the enemy.