“We will offer a single Heavy Strike Group to work under the command of whoever they see fit in this sector. We will also offer the carcass of the Guardian ship and the Biomech prisoner for mutual study on our new station being constructed in T’Karan.”
Teresa wiped an imaginary hair from her face.
“Base? I thought it was a supply base for the fleet.”
“It was. I requested and have been granted the resources to upgrade the facility to a full Naval Station. Most of my research staff will be moving there over the year…”
He took a sip as though he had something important to announce.
“As will I.”
“You’re returning to the R&D division?” asked Gun in surprise.
“Yes and no. I will be returning to the Naval Station, and I will be responsible for security throughout T’Karan. I won’t be commanding any naval task forces in the short term, however. My work will keep me on Helios I suspect, perhaps more than I will be on my own station.”
Teresa looked to Gun who seemed to be more interested in the decanter of port than of the actual discussion. Anderson stood up and groaned slightly as he straightened his back. He walked to the side of the room and tapped a pad on the wall. The entire side of the room vanished and was replaced with a completely transparent window out onto the city. Teresa moved up to join him. Gun stayed in his chair and lifted the decanter to drink directly from its spout.
“Look at this place. This is unlike anything we’ve seen before. The information we could learn from these people. This could be the greatest leap for humanity since we left Earth.”
Gun coughed, and they both turned to see the fortified wine dripping down his front. Anderson didn’t seem amused at the sight, but as usual, Gun seemed unperturbed.
“Great. All we have to do is keep them from letting the Biomechs open the Black Rift. If they do let them, then this won’t be the greatest leap, it will be the greatest fall.”
Anderson nodded in agreement.
“Very true. That’s why we are offering such a carrot to them.”
“What do we get, other than a warm, fuzzy feeling inside?” asked Teresa.
Anderson looked back out to the great buildings, spires, and raised road systems that were visible in every direction.
“In exchange, we will get access to technical cooperation and full mapping to the Rift system. Once we have that, we will be sending long distance probes to scan the entire system. If our friends are in there, we’ll find them.”
Teresa watched his gaze as they both followed a massive ship moving down from low altitude. It followed a smaller craft as it angled down and approached a large landing platform. The entire procedure took less than a minute, and before the engines could have begun to cool, a whole array of machines and vehicles moved around it. Pipes connected to its flanks, and the great doors opened to allow its cargo to be unloaded. Anderson smiled inwardly, impressed by the sophistication and efficiency being demonstrated. He turned his head and looked at Teresa. They’d met two decades earlier in the War, but she still seemed as young and passionate as she always had. Modern science and diet could only get you so far, yet she looked like a woman in her early thirties.
“We can use this, all of it to our advantage. The advances in science, technology, and engineering will accelerate our progress.”
“We shall see,” she replied in a strangely ominous tone.
He looked back at the window and watched more vessels moving through the sky like ships sailing across a vast ocean. The planet seemed calm; something he’d not experienced for a long time. He thought of Spartan and that instantly reminded him.
“Your children, Teresa, how are they?”
She sighed at the question.
“Matius and Ingo are doing well. They are on their second posting now.”
“And Jack?”
She smiled at him.
“You know Jack. He’s a marine, and he is just like his father.”
Anderson said no more. He knew just what she meant; resourceful, strong willed, and as ever at the center of trouble. Even so, he hoped Jack would become even half the man Spartan was.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Orion Nebula was so far from Alliance territory that none considered it remotely realistic for exploration. Only the Rift technology on Hyperion gave Alliance engineers and scientists the information needed to bridge the gap. Orion would come to mean many things to humanity. Some saw it as the future, others as a way of escaping the bloody past of the Alliance. A small group saw it as the greatest threat since the Biomechs, a region of space occupied by unfamiliar people that could turn upon humanity at any moment. As ties between the many factions strengthened, so did these feelings, and with them the seeds of sedition.
Orion – The future?
Spartan struck his aching fist to the wall once more. It was a half-hearted gesture and one born more from frustration than any attempt to try and break out. He leaned toward the wall and looked up at the ceiling, the low intensity lamps sending an eerie shimmer of light back into the cell. He wiped his brow and then limped back to Khan. Their cell hadn’t changed since their arrival, with the exception being the number of prisoners had reduced to almost half, and the increasingly bad smell. He slumped down on the floor and looked at his equally weary companion.
“So then Khan, what’s the plan?”
Khan shrugged with disinterest. Marks and scars marked his body, but how many were from the current crisis wasn’t clear. Spartan had fought alongside the warrior so many times and seen him cut and shot, he suspected there wasn’t a single part of his body that was unharmed from a battle at some point in his life.
“There is one door, and the machines come in groups to take us away. I don’t know. Hit them?”
Khan was one of the least subtle of the Jötnar. Even so, Spartan was seriously tempted to take the easy route and attack them once more. The only thing swaying his hand was the fact they’d already tried it three times before.
“Yeah, if only it was that easy.”
He looked to his sides, checking every possible weakness, but he knew it was pointless. They had both done this a hundred times and found nothing of use. The space was sealed and strongly guarded. He looked back at Khan.
“How long have we been here?”
Khan raised his shoulder.
“No idea. A month, it could be six though.”
Spartan breathed slowly, doing his best to get rid of the rank stench in the large cell area they’d all been forced to use. Around them the pitiful group of other prisoners simply waited for their fate. In the weeks or months they’d been captive, Spartan had tried to communicate with them over and over. So far, he’d heard nothing but moaning and sighing from them. They had been broken long ago, and yet the machines were letting them live; even the threats of physical violence eliciting nothing but cringing terror from each of them.
What do they want with such useless prisoners?
He thought of Prometheus and the terrible production lines that had created the mutated Biomechs used in the War. The early models had been created from salvaged human parts, including tissue, organs, and even complete nervous systems. He’d seen the body parts and smelt the blood; it had been horrific. The thought sent a chill through his body, and he turned his attention back to Khan. Like those dreadful creatures, he was also the product of the terrifying experiments. Where the first models were bloody monsters, his generation was purely synthetic though few people recognized the distinction.
He looked down at the clothes he wore. They weren’t his, just plain pieces of grey cloth thrown into the cells by their guards. Spartan had fashioned his into a rough tunic and pants while Khan simply tied his around his waist. Spartan’s legs had healed, but he still found it painful to walk. The bones had set, but without aid from their captors, his left arm had been crudely fused with heat and served as a constant reminder of their predicament.
“Khan, I’m not staying like this. I
went through the same on Prometheus. We need to try again, and this time we need to use everything we have left.”
Khan clenched his fists, and a grim smile formed on his face. He was never one to back down. All Spartan needed to do was to find him something that he could do where their efforts might have some effect.
“Well, what do you think we should do?”
Spartan looked toward the entrance to their cells and nodded his head in the same direction. It was the only point of interest there, apart from the small lights far above them.
“The red machine. It keeps demanding the same thing over and over.”
“Helios?”
Spartan nodded.
“Yeah, that piece of metal garbage wants me to give the place up. You remember what the thing said to me last time.”
Khan smiled, recalling Spartan’s description of the dialogue and the bloody fight that had nearly destroyed one of the machines.
“They want you to persuade the Helions and the T’Kari that the machines don’t need the Black Rift because they are already able to access the Helion system.”
“Exactly. They will send every ship they have left, including probably this one. They will strike Helios as a diversion to weaken the defenses around the Black rift. Then they will strike and secure the Rift. Once they control it, they can take their time before returning to finish what they started.”
Khan looked confused.
“So what though? How does that help us?”
Spartan smiled.
“I think they’re scared. The machines, you know, these leadership soldiers like the red one. I think they are the real power, and they want to get home. Think about it. They’ve been trapped out here for centuries. No matter how well they succeed, their numbers are always falling. Their race is ancient and decaying.”
Khan shook his head. He clearly disagreed.
“How do you know that?”
“When they interrogate us, when they reach into their minds, I can get glimpses of their own. I’ve seen their world. It is a shell. Stripped of resources and inhabited by an aged race of these things. Do you know what I think?”
Khan roared with laughter and shook uncontrollably for a while.
“Know what you think? I doubt even you know that!”
Spartan could see his point. The torture had certainly done its work both physically and mentally. He knew they had extracted information from him on Alliance tactics, equipment, and ship disposition. Even so, he’d fought them hard and long, and he lied and fed disinformation as often as he could. The images they’d shown him either deliberately or by accident were now merging with his own memories to a degree that made it almost impossible for him to tell one from the other. He leaned in close as though he expected somebody to be eavesdropping.
“Khan, I say we make a deal. It won’t be easy, and I’ll need to let them twist the knife in a bit deeper before I break.”
Khan looked confused and glanced at the door before looking back.
“You’ll give them Helios?”
Spartan clenched his fist and then rammed his hand, striking at Khan. The Jötnar might have been tired, but his strength and reactions were not in doubt. He stopped the fist with an open hand and gripped his fingers around Spartan’s fist.
“What do you think?”
Khan nodded with barely concealed joy.
“Now, they come each day. Make sure you’re ready. We’ll make them pay, Khan. They’ll pay for every day they’ve spent torturing us.”
They think they’ll get Helios. Instead, I’ll leave their own world in ruin!
* * *
The large screen glowed with a hint of light blue that filled the dark chamber. Inside stood three of the Biomech machines and a single human. Unlike the Biomechs that had fought in the Great Uprising, these were more machine than creature. Their exteriors were completely artificial and protected like the shell of a beetle. Overlapping plates of plastic and rare metals gave thick-layered protection to the vulnerable parts inside. Each was different, but all three were bipedal, strong, and big. The man stood with his long flowing robes gathered about his body and an Echidna brooch on his chest, a design that embodied a perfect merger of man, alien, and machine. The actual shape was made in the image of a mechanical serpent merged with the torso of a woman and made from a single piece of gleaming silver metal. On the display was a ceiling mounted feed of the prison chamber where Spartan and Khan were speaking.
“Typhon, this will work?” asked the machine.
The man nodded so slowly it was barely noticeable before he turned to look at the nearest of the machines. He was old, yet his body moved with the agility of a man a quarter his age. His eyes glowed with thoughts flashing behind them.
“Yes, a few more weeks of punishment and you will have your weapon. A man with so much rage that he will stop at nothing to destroy you.”
“I grow tired of your clones, Typhon. We have invested in your talents for fifty years now. This is your final chance. Give us what we want or...”
The man looked back at the machine. His face showed no signs of fear or contempt.
“Kill me if you wish,” he interrupted.
The machine raised its arm slightly and then stopped as if a signal had just been transmitted directly to its servomotors.
“It will not open the Black Rift for you. The only chance for opening it was wasted when you rushed your ship with the captured T’Kari tech to try and open it. You must plan carefully for an operation like this, as I have explained to you already.”
He looked back at the screen and the image of Spartan.
“It took decades to split the Confederacy, and yet this man managed to foil my plan. It will not matter though. As he rises, so does his ability to cause the most damage.”
He pointed at Spartan.
“That man is the greatest risk to all of their races since your last war. His rage and his terrible anger will bring him to the Rift.”
He then turned and looked at the red machine.
“The question is, are you and your survivors out here in the wilderness prepared for the final stage?”
The machine didn’t flinch, although Typhon wondered if that was even a possibility with a machine.
“We lost one of our brothers, and the valuable captured technology from the T’Kari slaves trying to open the Rift. We will sacrifice whatever we have to for victory. So long one of us remains, it will be a victory.”
Typhon looked unimpressed at the words. The machines were massive compared to his frail looking body, but he sensed an arrogance about them that bordered on recklessness. He had no memories other than of the most recent years, no doubt part of the cloning process. He’d given up asking which version he was or even what he had done in the past. His only real question was why they valued him as an advisor over any of the other prisoners he’d seen from so many worlds and races?
“You do your part. We will do ours. Spartan will have his victory, but the price will be to unleash hell upon all their worlds.”
The display changed to a video feed of a planet. It spun slowly, and a red haze ran off into the peripheries. The machine extended its right arm and pointed to the world with its sharpened claws.
“My brothers and I out in the wilderness are ready. We have been ready for a long time. When the signal is given, we will return to Helios and make our sacrifice. That will be the signal for the rise of Spartan...”
He turned his metal head to the cloned man.
“...and the scouring of every planet they call home. Our brothers have been waiting, and their vengeance will be terrible. The planets of the enemy will burn, and we will have our revenge.”
Typhon looked at the machine. It had no face save for the metal helm, but he was sure he could see the anger and bitterness within. The glowing eyes were artificial, like every part of the machine’s exterior. He moved his eyes just a small amount so that he could examine the other two. All were focused on the screen and the t
alk between the prisoners.
Then what will happen to me?
* * *
Jack stood to attention deep inside the throng of marines. Every one of them remained completely silent in the training hall, waiting as they had been for almost fifteen minutes. Jack’s leg still ached from the combat aboard the hijacked freighter. He was tempted to reach down to scratch at his leg, but he knew the penalty and had been in enough trouble already. He tried to take his attention off the waiting, instead moving his eyes just a fraction to take in the detail and grandeur of the almost brand new ship. It was Jack’s first time on board, and he was still amazed his newly activated unit had been placed aboard.
ANS Conqueror was the first of her class and one of only four similar ships currently in the Alliance arsenal. All four had been assembled simultaneously at eight different locations. Jack recalled the stories he’d seen in the news about sections of the vessels being manufactured and then sent to a number of shipyards to be combined with other components. He could still smell the fresh coats of paint, and the distant sound of workmen and engineers was audible even that far inside the ship. The interior was much bigger than a standard Crusader class, but the design was roughly the same in terms of basic layout. At almost forty percent larger, the class had almost as much firepower but with the ability to carry an entire battalion when configured for troop transport. This particular model was set up for fleet command and carried the standard complement of four companies of marines plus an entire air wing.
A noise from one of the entry bays caught Jack’s attention. He thought for a second it might be the officers, but then he spotted four men carrying a generator between them. They moved off to the side and then vanished into one of the many passageways in the ship.
Come on, this is ridiculous, he thought angrily.
Star Crusades Nexus: Book 03 - Heroes of Helios Page 6