Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

  “The Senate has tried to block his travel, but their block has been vetoed by the Citizen’s Tribune. As Alliance citizens, they are entitled to travel anywhere in Alliance space. The Senate has already decreed that New Charon is under Alliance jurisdiction and open for exploitation by any and all citizens. Either they must revoke its status, or remove the Jötnar’s citizenship.”

  “What?” Jack demanded. He wasn’t experienced in the world of politics, but even he knew that such a move would cause outrage amongst the Jötnar. It could even lead to a bloody civil war that would make the Uprising seem like a minor border war.

  “Anyway, the information I have here from Gun is that he has chartered three ships and is leaving for the Rift tomorrow. He suggests that the Jötnar will be claiming a new world, and he’d like our assistance with security should the need arise. I need to go. I have urgent communiqués coming in from Terra Nova now. Both of you try and keep out of trouble. Love you,” she said happily and cut the signal.

  Spartan looked about the room until spotting his two cases that had been brought along. One was very small, no bigger than one man could carry in a single hand. The second was much larger. He stepped closer and examined it carefully. Jack watched him as he walked around the large shape, easily as big as a bathtub.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Spartan ignored his question and continued checking it. He finally stopped in front of the long edge and entered a code, followed by a thumb scan. The top hissed open gently, and Spartan leaned over to look inside. Jack walked over and gazed inside its darkened interior. It was heavily padded and included small boxes and a battered looking but well maintained coil weapon; standard Alliance Marine issue from what he could tell. There were a few changed to the sights, but underneath it was standard gear. What really caught his eye was the armoured personal protection suit. It was the body armour worn by all marine units and provided a sealed system with protection against most small arms.

  “You brought your old Marine armour with you?” asked Jack in surprise.

  “No, this is second-hand ASOG gear that I bought at auction. It’s had a tough life, but all works perfectly well.”

  He pointed to the end of the room where another crate stood up against the wall.

  “What’s that?” asked Jack.

  Spartan grinned at him in a way only an old warrior could.

  “That’s your armour.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Zealots took their initial teachings from the Church of Echidna, but where did the technological and military support come from? Most assumed that the destruction of the Rift at Hyperion also marked their destruction, but the reality was far more complex. Information retrieved from the ruins pointed to the Stars and to Orion. While the small number of Zealots continued to preach against the citizens of the Alliance, it became clear that without their support infrastructure, they were too weak and separated to continue more than a token resistance.

  Origins of the Zealots

  Agent Stefan Hammacher paced in front of his prisoner and then slammed his fists down onto the table. The man wore nothing but his issued overalls and dripped with sweat. It was a small room, with no windows and a single secured door at one side. Just two chairs and a table were all that broke the monotony of the space.

  “Your brothers are dead, and your only friend in the world is your lady companion from the Beagle.”

  He noticed a faint glimmer of recognition on his face. It had taken some serious investigative work on behalf of the Intelligence community, but they had finally linked the attempted thefts on Epsilon Eridani, and now Prometheus, to the attempted sabotage on ANS Beagle. By all accounts the group was small, no more than a dozen people, possibly less. They weren’t even related to the Zealots or any other religious faction. No, these people were all linked by just one thing, a connection to Hyperion seventeen years earlier.

  Stefan knelt down to the side of the man so that his face was the same level.

  “She’s already offered to give up the rest of your cell. All she wants is confirmation that we have stopped exploratory work in Orion, which we have.”

  The man lifted his eyes slightly, instantly betraying doubt or interest in what Stefan was telling him.

  “The coordinates used were a complete waste of time, so our efforts are being redoubled elsewhere. So the question is, why are you attacking the Alliance?”

  The man looked up to him. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll reach her, and then we’ll pay, all of us.”

  Stefan stood back up and sighed. It was the same answer, over and over.

  “Who exactly do you think we’ll reach?”

  The man looked directly into his eyes, and Stefan knew immediately that it was fear he was staring directly into. He’d seen this look before, but only in the most dire of situations; when a parent knew their child was about to die, the moments before a car crash or the reliving of something as awful as a violent rape. It was the instinctive reaction of sheer terror and remembered past ordeals that he’d seen a few times before.

  “Echidna!” he hissed. “She is real, and she is coming. It doesn’t matter where you point spacebridges. Eventually, you will make it easy for her. She wants to come back, and you are all making it happen.”

  Stefan stood up and walked to the door. It was his fifth visit to the man, and so far he’d established no more than the Alliance interrogators had. As he approached the door, it hissed open to a dark corridor. A guard in black clothing and armed with a cut down coil carbine watched him leave. A few metres along the corridor were a number of blackened glass doors. He entered the first and moved into a larger room that contained a number of video displays and two senior agents.

  “Anything?” asked the first.

  Stefan shook his head. “No change.”

  He walked up to the first screen and moved his hand in front of it to select Director Johnson. It connected but placed him in a holding queue. As he waited, he looked over to the two men.

  “How about you? Anything yet on the Euryale Cell?”

  The first man looked back at his screen, but the second, a tall bald man with rounded glasses, nodded.

  “Not much, but it is something to go on. They were tracked entering a datacentre in one of the research labs. Our agents stopped them but let them escape, so we could continue tracking them. Guess what we found?”

  Stefan lifted an eyebrow inquisitively.

  “This,” said the agent, and he tapped a button to bring up a video feed. It showed the group of men moving to a parked groundcar. They opened the back and climbed inside. The camera zoomed in and managed to get a detailed view of the interior before it closed shut.

  “What am I looking at?” he asked, unimpressed.

  “The box on the bed of the car, Sir. We ran it through the system, and it matches the gear found two decades ago. Best we can tell it’s one of those artificial intelligence hubs.”

  Stefan looked surprised.

  “You mean the half-electronic, half-biological control units that we recovered in the Uprising? I thought they were all captured or destroyed?”

  The bald man nodded.

  “Apparently not, we have their vehicle bugged, and it’s being tracked. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  A gentle tone from the display behind him reminded him the link to the Director was going through. He turned back to see the face of Director Johnson waiting patiently.

  “Sir, the prisoner has confirmed the attacks are definitely a response to our exploration outside of our system. He believes by doing this we are inviting Echidna to attack us.”

  There was a short delay as the signal was routed through the Rift to the Director who was now back on Terra Nova. Normally, it would have taken months for such a signal to work, but with the new Interstellar Network, trade and communications had been made almost instantaneous.

  “I see. And by Echidna, we assume he is referring to some kind of Biomech leadership.”

  “Either
that, or he thinks we have a God on our doorstep that wants payback.”

  Again there was a short delay before the grimfaced Director spoke again.

  “The question is, which one is worst? I’ve passed the latest intelligence up through to the committee.”

  * * *

  The dark grey hulk of ANS Devastation dwarfed the group of frigates as she rotated about in space, prior to reversing her engines. Like many vessels, she made use of her main engines as the means of both acceleration and deceleration. Few people outside of the Navy understood how ships covered wide distances in the time that they did. When not in a rush, a ship set its course, accelerated to its cruising speed and then coasted to the target. When near the destination, the engines would be used again to slow the craft down to avoid it sailing past the end point. This ship needed to travel much faster than that and had been accelerating at maximum power for half of the trip. By moving at 9.8 m/s2, the ship would actually create the equivalent of Earth’s gravity. The internal gravity generators were forced to counter this movement to avoid subjecting the crew to multiple forces. Devastation was equipped like all of ships in her class with substantial numbers of point defence turrets. The ship was the first of the Crusader Class to be equipped with a number of new technologies developed on Prometheus. The most significant of these was the modification of the bow to use new weapons system. All her railgun batteries had been stripped out and replaced with experimental direct-energy particle beam technology, adopted from the enemy ships in the Uprising. The most obvious distinction was that two large emitters were now visibly protruding from her bow.

  Inside her thickly armoured hull waited the men and women of the embarked marine unit, as well as Spartan’s APS Team. For most, this was their first actual combat landing, but for Spartan and his people it was something they’d done dozens, probably scores of times.

  “Jack, you landed with marines before?” asked Khan loudly.

  A number of the younger marines turned to listen in on the conversation, but Jack seemed unfazed by all the interest. The young man shook his head and looked down to his carbine to check it one last time.

  Both he and Spartan wore the advanced PDS suits that his father had brought along. They were camouflaged in a mottled digital pattern that the APS Corporation had been working on, along with Alliance development teams. Stood next to them were the half a dozen Jötnar, and each of them using the crude looking and heavy armour. The look betrayed the complexity of the structure; the ability to absorb all but the heaviest of weapon impacts. Even the Jötnar’s helmets were now completely sealed so that the creatures looked more like robotic ogres then living, breathing people.

  “Don’t worry, they aren’t all as useless as you might have heard!” said Khan, followed by a great roar of laughter from the other Jötnar. One marine, a private with a spotless suit, moved towards them but was called back by his sergeant.

  The landing bay of ANS Devastation was completely different to any previous Alliance starship. With the development of rudimentary artificial gravity, it was possible to land shuttles and craft onto the deck without having to transfer people from rotating section, and thereby clearing up internal space. The aft of the ship included a single deck with additional storage above and below for more craft. There were currently four armoured shuttles waiting to be loaded. Each was designed to carry a full twelve-man marine squad, and a number of marines were already filing inside the first. The shape of General Rivers and two Marine Guards appeared from the main access door and entered the deck. All those present saluted at his approach but not Spartan and his team. He stopped in the middle and called out with his booming voice.

  “There has been a change of plan. Commodore Lewis confirms he has extracted Colonel Daniels and his platoon from the surface. The wounded are being taken care of while he sends down more marines to recce the area. His men have already found two entrances to a derelict structure of some type. Check your suits’ internal secpads, and you’ll see it resembles a spaceport of some kind, but most of it is now buried.”

  The General stopped and spoke to a nearby deck chief who rushed off and started barking orders at a group of Navy crewmen. It took only a few seconds for them to start dragging equipment from one of the many stowage areas. Spartan recognised a helmet being pulled out. He’d last seen it worn by the General in the middle of hand-to-hand combat.

  The old fool, he’s coming with us! Either there’s trouble, or he thinks it’s too important to leave to green recruits, maybe a bit of both? He wondered.

  “Commodore Lewis already has two platoons on the surface, checking the remains for intel or technology. In the last hours, he’s prepared another nine shuttles of marines, that’s a full combat company of your comrades. We will be joining them to enter the facility. We have no idea what we might face down there, so check your gear, weapons and armour and keep this by the numbers. I don’t want to lose a single marine on this rock, understood?”

  “Yes, General!” came back the chorus of marine voices.

  The marines returned to their preparation while the Deck Chief and his team arrived with the General’s old equipment. One of his guards helped him into the main suit, and he waved over to Spartan and his team.

  “I want your unit with us as well, Spartan. I could do with some experience and muscle down there in case things go pear shaped.”

  “You think there might be trouble?” asked Jack with an inquisitive tone.

  “I always think there could be trouble.”

  General Rivers looked at the young man and was reminded of Spartan two decades earlier. Both had the hunger in their eyes, and in their formative years had witnessed violence and been involved in great struggles. Spartan’s background was still blurred and little known until his time as an illegal pit fighter. The skills he learnt over that short career had helped hone him into the violent and courageous warrior he had become in the Marine Corps. Jack was an unknown to him, though. His track record on clandestine operations had been impressive, but he’d also broken a long list of local laws, and his criminal record already beat Spartan’s. Although similar, there were still enough differences to tell them apart. Spartan was the rougher of the two, but he detected a streak of arrogance and violence in Jack that was all too familiar in young members of the Marine Corps. He stepped closer to Spartan.

  “I want APS to take point when we land. You and your Jötnar have experience most of these marines can only dream of.”

  Spartan nodded and moved away to his waiting shuttle. It was crewed by marines and carried a four-man security detail but no passengers. The Jötnar filed aboard, each of them muttering as they went. As they moved, Spartan noticed the youngest of the group.

  “Wictred? I wondered where you’d got to.”

  The young Jötnar glanced at him, but Khan pushed him inside without a word.

  Odd, thought Spartan.

  He’d known the Jötnar for decades now and was still learning new things about them. He was certainly familiar with their attitude to the young. Unlike other humans, they placed a greater value on their adult population. He recalled an argument he’d had with Gun back on Hyperion. A hunting party had been forced to leave three Jötnar behind in an ambush, and Gun had selected the youngest. He’d explained it simply, as they had so far not achieved work of note and had a lower value than the adults. Their potential was less important to him than the reality of the moment. It was a strange, even alien concept, but Spartan could understand his point of view. Osk, the first Jötnar female, had reminded him that it was easy enough to get more children. Adults, on the other hand, took a good many years to train and teach, now that the birthing chambers and equipment throughout the Alliance had been scrapped. Natural birth requires natural solutions to problems.

  “Looks like Wictred will get to see the elephant, after all!” said Jack in a slightly despondent tone.

  “Elephant?” asked a confused Spartan.

  Jack grinned. “The animal with four leg
s and a trunk.”

  Spartan shook his head and indicated for him to climb inside the shuttle. The Jötnar were already fitting the magnetic clamps around their suits to keep them secure during flight. Once they left the innards of the warship, they would once again experience the unsettling sensation of weightlessness.

  “Thank you, Jack, I’m well aware of the animal. What did you mean?”

  Jack pulled on the straps before replying.

  “It’s a saying I heard used by some of the part-timers coming to Hyperion for training. You know, the camps Gun runs for them and the tourists. One of the scenarios is where a Jötnar would ambush them at close quarters. Most have never seen them or combat before. One of the officers told me that soldiers in the past would described it as ‘meeting the elephant’ for the first time. A man’s first experience of war and combat.”

  Spartan now understood what he meant. Combat was certainly something he had plenty of experience of, but he was dubious his son was quite as experienced himself as he liked to think.

  “Well, Jack, it’s not just him, you know? This isn’t a hunt or raid. There’s a good chance this could escalate at some point, and in my experience, when marines get stuck into action, you find a lot of trouble.”

  The deck crew clamped the doors down shut, and an odd sucking sound indicated the internal pressure system was stabilising, prior to leaving the ship. Spartan’s suit showed the current pressure, temperature, and atmospheric readings as they quickly altered to match those on the surface below. Khan leaned over and shouted from inside his thickly armoured helmet.

  “Spartan, It will be like old times!”

  Spartan smiled at his enthusiasm. He might now be forty-eight, but he was far from past his prime. Modern medicine, diet and fitness programmes had allowed him to maintain the body of a man almost half his age and then some. What had changed were his attitudes and experience. The number of missions he’d gone in that had resulted in crashes, death and disaster were numerous, and he was tired of watching the deaths of so many. It was that spirit that had given the APS Corporation such a firm and solid reputation for integrity and professionalism in the industry. The video communications display lit up in his suit, just the same as for all the other marines and Jötnar. It was the face of General Rivers who was now in his full PDS body armour and stood aboard one of the other shuttles. Around him stood a group of marines, and they were all wearing the mottled grey and red camouflage pattern of his personal guard.