“This is it, people,” he stated, and almost simultaneously, the shuttle lifted from its docking clamps and started moving on one of the pintle-mounted brackets to the flanks of the ship. They moved almost fifteen metres into the launch pod before a pair of reinforced shutters clamped behind them. There were four pods, two on each side of the stern for launching shuttles, fighters and landing craft.
“The marines from the rest of the Taskforce are in the air and waiting for us. Our platoon will be taking point on the landing with the APS Team providing recon for us. We land in forty-six minutes, be ready!”
Spartan looked to the others in his shuttle. The Jötnar looked both excited and serious, ever the professional soldiers. Jack, on the other hand, simply gazed out of the window and watched the shape of ANS Devastation as they drifted silently from her flank. As they moved further away, the clear glowing orb of the gas giant appeared like a monstrous star. Spartan had seen the planet type before, but there was something about this one, the way the light seemed to shimmer and reflect much further than normal. Jack noticed his interest.
“It’s the composition of space around here.”
Spartan didn’t quite understand, but he was pleasantly surprised to see his son had taken some of his studies in, rather than just skills with weapons.
Maybe Teresa was right about him, after all!
“What do you mean? Isn’t the space out here just the same as space anywhere else?”
Jack looked back out of the window and again before looking to his father.
“This star system is just one tiny part of the Orion Nebula, right? Well, you must have seen the photos of this place back from Proxima Centauri. It shows lots of clouds, many of them bright blue.”
Jack was a little surprised his father was so unfamiliar with the basic science of space. He was well aware that Spartan’s background was on the more physical side of space, but even so, he thought most knew of this.
“Well, there are massive amounts of gas and dust in the nebula. Some areas are more concentrated than others. There are massive bullets of gas that pierce hydrogen clouds. That’s where the glowing blue streaks and orbs come from.”
He looked back to the window.
“According to the news report I just watched, the Alliance astronomers are arguing about what started it. One idea is that something happened a thousand years or so ago to cause it.”
Spartan scratched his chin.
“But aren’t we seeing light on Prometheus that originated fourteen hundred years ago?”
Jack looked back to his father, intrigued that of all things he might pick out this one.
“Yes, so back home we are seeing events that have already happened. The event that caused this massive disruption was vast. It would have involved hundreds of stars, maybe thousands of them.”
Spartan nodded as if a number of pieces were falling into place.
“And yet we get here and find clouds that are of a different composition to those we’ve seen from the past, and even weirder, we find remains of an unknown people.”
Jack nodded at him, both pleased with his father but also dreading the inevitable conclusion that both of them must have been making at the same time. Jack spoke first.
“So something must have happened in the past, something massive, and it resulted in the destruction of entire colonies and ships?”
Spartan said nothing, but it was evident to him that something bad had happened.
“The question then is, what the hell happened out here?”
Khan must have heard them speaking because he look at them both and tilted his head to the enlarging moon to the right of the shuttle.
“I bet we’ll find out what caused all of this down there.”
All three of them looked through the window and the small disc of light as they hurtled closer to the moon. Around the shuttle were the rest of their formation, three more from Devastation and another nine from the Taskforce. Spartan hadn’t been involved in such a large landing for years, and the thought of thirteen armoured shuttles swooping down to an alien world started to get his blood moving around his body. He tapped Jack on the shoulder.
“Son, this is going to be interesting.”
Wictred nodded happily at the two of them, completely ignoring the stern look from his father and the other senior Jötnar.
“More than interesting!” he laughed. “This mission is going to kick ass!”
Spartan looked to Khan and try as he might, he couldn’t hold back the laughter. Khan joined in, and before long the entire shuttle was shaking to the roaring of amusement from the entire team. Jack looked at them all with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.
* * *
Teresa walked along one of the many corridors of the Prometheus Seven Space Station, and she did her best to avoid bumping into any members of the media. This part of the station used to be where a large number of traders and black market sellers worked. Now it was being used by a much smaller array of independent stores that had been granted licences by the Alliance to sell goods to the thousands of people stationed there; everything from food and clothing, to entertainment to amuse those out here on their own for months at a time.
Looks just a little less interesting than last time, she thought.
The stand to her right caught her eye, especially the odd shaped trinkets and artefacts that she had seen as a child on Carthago. She stopped at the stand and leaned over to pick up one of the small green carved figurines. It was about the size of her hand and shaped like a monster of ancient myth. The simple design betrayed exquisite skill in the working of ebony; a skill rarely encountered anymore.
“You’re from Carthago, right?” a scrawny man asked, emerging from behind a loose hanging curtain.
He wore beige trousers and a poorly maintained jacket that was at least two decades out of fashion. Teresa noted the tattoos on his face, marking him out as from one of the unofficial Carthago militias that had been formed to try and help local police and Alliance units maintain control. The shape sent a shudder through her body as she recalled some of the rumours about them.
Like I’m talking about it with him.
“I’ve spent some time there with the military,” she explained with a thinly disguised half-lie. There were enough problems on Carthago, without her stirring up more out here. Teresa still had a small number of relatives back there.
She lifted up a figurine that was towards the back of the stand. Like the others, it was green in colour, but this one was more discoloured than the rest and shaped into the body of a multi-headed dog.
“Kerberos,” explained the man helpfully.
“Yes, I know, the three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to Hades. Not a common sight on Carthago, from what I’ve heard,” she answered with a pleasant smile.
The man looked back at her with a look that reminded her of the scheming expressions she’d seen on hundreds of crooks, smugglers and Zealots. Her gut instinct told her she needed to speak to someone. Luckily for her, two of her APS associates arrived. Both wore the grey paramilitary uniforms that were the staple of all non-combat roles in the company. It had been Spartan’s idea to keep a military feel to their company, apart from those in higher management. Both were about two metres tall, well built and carried themselves with the assertiveness common with the experienced military. They stopped alongside her and beckoned for her to move away from the stand. She moved several paces, and the nearest leaned in and spoke quietly.
“Ms Morato, we have an urgent message from Admiral Anderson.”
Teresa looked at him. She couldn’t remember his name, but she remembered he had worked with Spartan on an operation in the previous year. Like all their employees, they were background checked, and their loyalty was guaranteed by both their allegiance to the Alliance and more importantly, to the company’s deep pockets. The cult of personality of the two founding members went a long way in establishing APS’s reputation for ruthless efficiency and reliability
.
“What’s going on? Why didn’t he contact me through the normal channels?” she asked suspiciously.
They were already walking back along the corridor, and the man spoke again.
“Our sources in customs indicate that three ships have just arrived. They are armoured and claim to be here on official APS business. I checked the logs, and all three ships were bought by the Jötnar nearly two years ago.”
Teresa shook her head in both annoyance and amusement.
Gun, you crazy bastard! What are you doing at Prometheus, and why have you brought three ships?
As she left the corridor, flanked by her two security professionals, she did her best to disguise a smile. The Jötnar were nothing if entertaining, but she did consider the possibility that Gun was here in person. If that were true, then it would confirm the information she’d seen from the Senate concerning the Jötnar being able to enter New Charon to establish colonies. Gun had been very clear that he would use any measures necessary to eliminate threats to his people. The new planets and territory discovered through the Spacebridge could represent a new future for the Jötnar.
It had better not be the start of another fight, though. She thought worryingly.
* * *
The formation of armoured shuttles split up as they approached the atmosphere of the moon. Though thin, it was slightly corrosive, and as each of the craft skimmed the edge, they left a colour wake behind them. Each streak indicated the high-speed orbital descent of a craft as it followed the most direct route to the target. Once at medium level, they started the normal deceleration procedure and dumped low-burn flares in case of ground-based defences.
“Here we go again, Spartan!” barked Khan.
The battle-hardened Jötnar watched through the tiny windows as the colour of the sky changed with every hundred metres lower. Spartan could see him grasping the hilt of his weapon.
Always looking for a fight. He thought wryly.
“Ninety seconds to the landing zone,” said General Rivers over the suit’s integral comms unit. It was a fast and efficient system, giving secured high speed data between all the ships and warriors in the Taskforce. The fully integrated digital battlespace system had only come into full use in the last ten years and was one of the few improvements that genuinly impressed Spartan.
“Understood, General, we’re ready and awaiting the landing. Do we have any new intel on the ground?”
“Yes,” was the simple reply, as a number of three dimensional models mapping the landing zone appeared. They insantly amalgamated with the two-dimensional maps already scanned by the previous landing.
“We’re moving three hundred metres further to the west. There is more debris, but surface-pentrating radar indicates a number of passages underneath.”
Spartan nodded. “Understood.”
The small formation of shuttles deployed their first-stage airbrakes to start the slowing down descent procedure. Spartan was the only person in his shuttle to look upwards and back to the direction they had arrived from. Directly above them, sat in high orbit above the shuttle waited the Taskforce, a dozen ship; including three of the latest and most technologically advanced warships in the Alliance. It was a modest affair, compared to the great fleets of the Uprising, but for this obscure moon, it was a sight to behold. The first three shuttles burst out through the fog of chemicals, swooping down low over craggy mountains.
“Father, look!” Jack called.
Spartan returned his gaze to the horizon as the flight of shuttles circled their landing zone. The surface was dry, ragged and unwelcoming, like many moons he had seen before. There appeared to be many lines and markings running along the surface, but he was well used to these illusions. They were frequently no more than natural phenomenon. What Jack was pointing to was a formation of mountains around a single point of rocks and rubble. Khan looked with interest and back to Spartan and Jack.
“Does that remind you both of somewhere?” he asked.
Jack grinned.
“What? You mean the rift archeological site on Hyperion that’s situated between a series of mountain tops?”
He turned to Spartan. “No it looks nothing like it.”
“Ten seconds!” The pilot called out through the digital communciations system.
Spartan grabbed the electromatgetnic coupling that held him down. It was more complex than a simple set of straps, but it was stronger and could be locked and unlocked in a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as the word for their landing had arrived, they hit the ground. It was bumpy, but there appeared to be no signs of enemy activity.
“A safe landing and no reception committee? Is that a first?” laughed Khan, as he stood up from his seat and punched Spartan on the shoulder. The doors opened, and the group of Jötnar leapt out of the shuttle and onto the solid surface of the still unnamed moon. Jack glanced to his father who simply nodded for him to go.
Here we go again, he thought. Then stepped out behind him, his carbine ready for whatever the moon might throw at them.
CHAPTER TEN
The creation of the Centauri Alliance was the last stage in humanity’s violent struggle to create a solid, stable and secure political system. Gone were the days of colony versus colony warfare, and instead, the gaze of most citizens turned to the great Orion Nebula and the seeming limitless opportunities it offered; hundreds of thousands of stars with an even greater number of worlds orbiting them, each ripe for exploration and exploitation. How few even considered the possibility that somebody might have already beaten them to it?
Orion – The future?
The landing zone was almost three hundred metres in diameter and the perfect site from which to land additional men and materiel as required. In the first minute, advance scouts had pushed out and secured the site for the arrival of the rest of the unit. Four full platoons of marines plus the APS Team was a considerable force, with nearly a hundred and fifty heavily equipped warriors and their supporting equipment. The marines’ first job was to establish a defensible landing zone and communication array so that contact could be maintained with the ships above. The men and women from ANS Dragon had already moved the armoured array from one of the support shuttles and were in the process of powering it up by the time the last shuttle had landed. It was as big as a marine and equipped with two main antennae, the secondary specifically in case of malfunction or damage. It was all part of the enhanced digital battle-space system that all Alliance military equipment was now tied into.
As the squads of marines continued making the site safe, the APS team, led by Spartan and Khan, moved away from the safe area and into the until now unexplored parts of the moon. They had chosen to head towards what seemed to be an entrance, at least that was what the scanner had indicated. General Rivers had also sent out four small scout parties to recce the peripheries for anything of use while the APS team scouted the primary access point. There had been a minor disagreement as to who should go where, but the General would have none of it. Spartan’s APS team had experience of similar sites, and their skills were never in doubt to him. He had twelve squads of a dozen marines plus Spartan’s unit, and that gave him the manpower to conduct a wide sweep of the area. Three more units followed the routes of the more level ground while the fourth followed a winding path to the right.
That fourth group included both Wictred and Jack, much to the annoyance of the marines, who failed to appreciate why two juveniles were going with them. As they moved away, it appeared they were more interested in competing with each other to reach the objective while the single marine squad did its best to keep up. It didn’t take long for this annoyance to turn to frustration.
“Kid, what’s the hurry?” called out the shortest of the marines, who could have been barely a year older than Jack. The emphasis was on the ‘kid’, and it had an immediate effect.
Jack turned his head and shook it before jumping over a series of rocks, landing in a shallow depression to stand alongside Wictred
. To the uninformed, it looked as if they were racing ahead for the sake of it. The reality was that Wictred had spotted something, and in their haste neither had informed the marines. At the implied insult, Jack spun around to face the small group of armoured marines.
“Kid? You’re not much older than me, you know. I’ve been on plenty of operations before, and this one is nothing special.”
The Sergeant of the unit pushed up closer to him, shaking his head slowly.
“We’re a unit, and if you were in the Corps, you’d know that. I don’t care if your Pa is some Corporation big shot, out here we play by the rules…or people get hurt.”
He paused for a second to let that sink in.
“Now, why are you rushing ahead? If you find trouble, we’ll be too far back to assist you.”
Wictred laughed at the comment. Like most of his kin, he had a short temper and had no problem expressing himself. Unlike Khan and the first generation of Jötnar, he had yet to learn humility or empathy, not that it was a particularly common trait amongst any of them.
“Then stop lingering in the rear, marine!”
Jack saw the look on the marine’s face, and though at first he almost enjoyed the man’s discomfort, he could see the marine was right. They had moved almost a hundred and fifty metres from the shuttle, without even speaking to the rest of the unit. He looked over to Wictred who, compared to the rest of the group, simply towered over them.
Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1) Page 16