Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

  In an instant, the worries of the Zealots, the Biomechs and any other dangers vanished at the simple prospect of missing a great opportunity. She watched them carefully, looking for those who might decide against the plan.

  “You have all been provided with full briefings from the military, astrophysics and science divisions. We will reconvene in seventy-two hours for your combined decision. Remember, you are considering not just our future for the next few months, but for the next thousand years.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Great Exodus that followed the birth of the Confederacy also sowed the seeds for the Great Uprising. Large numbers of men and women brought up children with a distrust of the new system and those that had emerged victorious. The technology, ships and resources they managed to gain access to, were never explained; that was until the Orion expedition. Only then would the true extent of the Zealots’ benefactors be fully revealed and the path laid down for the fledgling Alliance.

  The Unforeseen Consequences

  The events of the struggle to secure Hades had occurred almost a month earlier, and still the news of the battle continued to gather interest. Images of the ruined buildings and hints of a long extinct civilisation had awakened every entrepreneurial and adventurous spirit through the Alliance. A decision had been made by the Defence Committee, a group of colony leaders and the senior members of the Alliance government to expand the settlement and exploration of New Charon. Just weeks after the fighting, and there were science teams on a dozen moons and teams on the way to the many planets. But for Spartan and his friends, it was time to relax for a moment and to reflect on the many decisions that would now have to be made.

  Over thirty prefabricated units had been brought to the surface by Alliance engineers to house the hundreds of scientists, engineers and researchers who were busy working on the site. One of these had been handed over to Spartan and the APS Corporation to operate as their command centre for moon security operations. It consisted of a central hub section that contained several rooms, a meeting hall and evacuation station. Around it, like the spokes of a wheel, were another six long sections, each containing a series of small rooms. This were where the power, sleeping and wash facilities were all based. One also contained a full set of weapons, ammunition and equipment for two APS Teams.

  Spartan sat at the circular table, along with Khan. The others were busy providing site security for the big excavation work on the largest machine found so far. Spartan had done his best to discourage them from disturbing the great structure, but orders were orders, and the Senate wanted answers, fast.

  “How is Jack?” asked Khan in an unusual show of interest.

  Spartan smiled grimly.

  “He’s alright. The injuries to his upper body were severe, and he’s still undergoing medical treatment on the Royal Sovereign, the medical frigate that came with the last batch of engineers. She’s docked with ANS Beagle, right now.”

  Khan nodded slowly at the news.

  “Good, the boy put up a good fight, so Wictred tells me.”

  He leaned over the table.

  “He won’t leave the boy’s side,” he whispered with a bemused expression.

  Spartan raised an eyebrow at his comment.

  “And you will leave mine?” he suggested.

  Khan appeared nonplussed at the point he was making. In any case, it didn’t matter because the door hissed open, and in walked an angry looking Teresa, flanked by two armoured Jötnar. Gun, the leader of the Jötnar, and an old friend of theirs, stood to her right while a younger, unfamiliar Jötnar stood to her left.

  “Spartan, have you seen what they’re doing?” asked Teresa.

  She moved closer and stopped directly in front of him. Gun spoke before Spartan could even answer Teresa’s question.

  “We’ve just been down there, and they’re reopening the dig. I told them what you told me. But would they listen?” he said with a shrug.

  Spartan nodded.

  “Yeah, I heard. I told them and so did the General, but High Command have made this excavation a high priority. They want whatever is underground to be dug out for study by the Alliance Engineers Corps. Our job is to provide close protection, escort and security services to all Alliance personnel on this moon.”

  Gun grinned at the last part.

  “Yeah, looks like your company expanded at the right time, Spartan.”

  Spartan glanced at Teresa who was still angry.

  “Look, we can’t stop them and...” she glared at him as though she wanted him to do just that.

  “If we interfere with Alliance business, we will just be replaced by another corporation. At least this way, we can provide input and be there when they screw things up.”

  Gun moved over to Khan who approached his leader, grasping his arm in a firm handshake. It was a curious mimicry of what they had seen others do.

  “Commander Gun, how is the colonisation of the second planet proceeding?”

  “Good, very good. Our first ships landed, and we’ve traded resources on Hyperion for three habitation modules for the surface.”

  He looked to Spartan.

  “Nine hundred of my people are already on the world, and more are following.”

  Spartan raised an eyebrow at the number; it was larger than he had expected.

  “What about others?”

  Gun grinned in that classic expression he normally gave before doing something dangerous. In the past, Spartan would have been ducking at this point, in case they were about to be hit by heavy weapons.

  “This is the Alliance. We are one happy family. Anybody can settle there.”

  He looked to Khan who laughed before doing his best to keep silent. Teresa looked at them both and shook her head.

  “The heavy gravity and thin atmosphere wouldn’t have anything to do with your decision to settle there, now would it?”

  Gun said nothing, but his amused expression answered her question. The Jötnar, though human, had been artificially created by the Zealots and their allies, using advanced technology; the end result had been humans with genetic memory that were adept at socialising and combat skills. One thing that had caught many by surprise was how adaptable they were in different environments. The air on Hyperion was a classic example. Though breathable to humans, it wasn’t easy and took weeks, sometimes months for a person to fully acclimatise. For some it simply never happened, and they were forced to wear respirators at all times. It was a different story for the Jötnar. Their oversized organs, lungs and modified genetic structure, allowed them to thrive in such conditions. The second planet of the New Charon star system was another such world. It was rocky with no more than a trace atmosphere, mineral rich and very heavy gravity of nearly seventy percent heavier than Earth normal.

  “What the hell are you planning on doing there, Gun?” asked Spartan with genuine interest.

  Khan and Gun looked to each other. Gun moved to the table and sat down. The chair creaked at his great bulk but managed to stay intact.

  “We can mine the planet and use it as a source of revenue. But I have other ideas. The high gravity will help keep my people tough and strong. It is our one advantage over humans. I plan on using the planet to guarantee our future.”

  Spartan listened with interest. The idea was, of course, reasonable, but it also provided a germ of an idea for him as well. Khan saw his expression and became equally curious.

  “What is it, Spartan?”

  Spartan leaned back in his chair.

  “Well, I have an idea that could bring you more money and also keep your reputation as warriors.”

  Gun looked interested. “Go on.”

  “Let us establish a training compound on the planet. You will run it, and we will supply specialists and equipment. I can guarantee that APS and the Alliance Marine Corps will definitely want to take advantage of a high gravity training centre.”

  Khan spoke quietly into Gun’s ear and looked back to Spartan.

  “In
teresting,” replied Gun. “You’d have to cycle your people. They won’t last long down there with the added weight. It could work, though. It could work very well.”

  Gun pulled out a secpad and placed it on the table. It displayed a sequence of images from the dig site. Spartan looked at them carefully, noting how a single shallow ramp had been built to work down and around the buried object. He tried to imagine what it might be, but from the rusted shape and broken sections, it was almost impossible. He looked up to Gun.

  “Any ideas?”

  Gun looked surprised.

  “Me?” he answered, pointing to his own chest. “I asked you because we have no idea!”

  Spartan looked back at the device. Something caught his attention, and he tapped the unit to enlarge one of the images. It expanded with only a low degree of digital noise to obscure some of the shapes.

  “Have you seen this part? It looks burnt.”

  Gun shrugged.

  “I need to speak with the General. One moment.”

  From his belt, he pulled out his own device and tapped the option to request a conversation with General Rivers. A box appeared with a waiting message. He then looked again at Gun’s device.

  “Gun, we need to stop this work. Look at the damage to this thing. One way or another this thing was in some kind of action. Based on what we’ve seen down here, I think it’s clear it wasn’t good. So far we...”

  He was cut short by the appearance of General Rivers on his own secpad.

  “Spartan?”

  “General. I have imagery from the dig site here on Hades.”

  “I don’t have long, Spartan. I’m in the middle of landing scouting parties on three other moons around this planet. What do you have?”

  Spartan tapped the device and sent the data directly to the General.

  “Sir, it looks like these remains saw some serious action at some point in the past. I recommend a halt to the dig until we can learn more.”

  There was no hesitation from the marine commander, however.

  “Negative, Spartan. My orders are clear. Our science teams need complete access to this site and its objects. The longer we leave it, the greater the chance we might have of hitting a problem once we are overcommitted. I am monitoring the situation from here on ANS Dragon. Keep an eye on things down there and keep me appraised. Understood?”

  Spartan sighed but knew it was no good pushing any further.

  “Understood, General.”

  The signal cut, and Spartan looked back to see the inquisitive Jötnar staring right back at him.

  “Who is your friend?” he asked.

  Gun looked over to the younger Jötnar and laughed.

  “This is Hunn, the Champion of Hyperion!”

  Spartan turned to Teresa who said nothing.

  “Hunn?” he asked.

  “Yes. I have started a fighting programme like the one you told me about. Any Jötnar can challenge another. Hunn is the champion of ten fights. He even matched a First.”

  Spartan felt he’d been separated from the Jötnar for much longer than he realised. Things were happening on Hyperion that he neither knew about or even fully understood any more. Khan laughed at his confusion.

  “The first Jötnar created in the war are now called the First. The survivors are our best and most experienced warriors.”

  Spartan’s secpad lit up with an urgent video feed. He tapped it, and it quickly changed to the face of his Team Leader operating site security at the dig site. The look on his face sent a shudder of dread through Spartan’s body.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir, the team accessed some kind of damaged computer system down here. It sent out a pulse and then burnt out.”

  Spartan stood up in a rage.

  “What? The mission parameters were simple. Excavation only. No interference with the object until it has been fully examined.”

  The man shook his head, desperate to say something else. Now Spartan became truly concerned.

  “There’s more?”

  “Yes, Sir. Instruments are picking up movement below the ground, approximately two hundred metres below the surface, but getting nearer. I’ve ordered a full evacuation back to the base, but there...”

  He stopped and spun around. The top right corner of his feed showed a forward view from his helmet as he looked at the scaffolding, ramp and equipment that lay about the great artefact. Dozens of people in suits were moving slowly away from the site. That wasn’t what he was looking at, though. It was the shape of a sleek craft about the size of a Cobra shuttle, and it had risen from the ridge just a few hundred metres away.

  “What the hell!” he shouted.

  Spartan tried to intercede, but a stream of lines flicked around the craft, and simultaneously two of the groundcars at the site exploded. The vehicle rushed out of sight, but another two appeared and continued to strafe the ground around the artefact. Some of the projectiles hit scientific equipment, and some of the rounds even hit the ruined object itself. Then the signal cut completely. Spartan turned to his comrades with a grim expression.

  “Teresa, get in touch with the General. Tell him what has happened and fast.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked nervously, but she already knew the answer.

  Gun nodded in silent agreement. Spartan grabbed her about the waist and pulled her close.

  “We have to bring them back, all of them. Let the others know.”

  He walked for the door seal and towards where all the weapons, armour and equipment were stowed. As he moved inside, he threw her a quick look.

  “We’re not alone after all.”

  * * *

  Jack looked through the window of his ward and out into space. The medical frigate was unlike most other vessels he’d been on before and utilised plate-reinforced glass protected by emergency shutters. It was an old design and one abandoned for over fifty years. As he lay there, he thought of what kind of life the ship must have had in its long career. It lacked rotational sections for artificial gravity, and all but its point defence turrets had been removed to make space for beds and supplies. It was almost sad to see a ship of her age relegated to a non-combat function.

  Still, it’s better than being scrapped, he thought.

  He was positioned so that his upper body was slightly raised, but not too high that he was sitting. The bed was one of eight in the ward; half occupied by marines and engineers that had suffered accidents or injury in the last week. He was young, and his recovery was quicker than some might have expected. The mental scars were more than evident, however, even to him. As he lay there gazing through the window, his mind returned to the short but vicious battle underground on Hades.

  Hades, how right they were with that name!

  The injuries he’d sustained on that moon were unlike anything his young body had experienced so far. The puncture wounds had penetrated deeply, but according to the doctors, they had managed to avoid all the major arteries and organs. He tried to not think about the blood and wounds; the mere thought of blood sent a dizzy, almost sickening feeling through him. From the window, he watched a group of Navy frigates form up into a neat formation. New Charon appeared even busier than he’d seen Terra Nova or Prime, with military and civilian ships spreading like locusts through the system. He could no longer see the distant shape of ANS Beagle even though the ship had been expanded until it was now almost unrecognisable. They’d left the Beagle Station half a day earlier and were on an elliptical course that would take them past a number of moons but at a leisurely pace. They were in no hurry. Only the faint colour of the Rift could just be made out in the distance. He pulled one of the public access secpads from the unit next to his bed and held it in front of his face. It was far less useful than his personal device, but it was tied into the public network feeds. With a few taps, he was able to bring up the headline news stories for the Alliance.

  Let’s see what’s happening out there.

  The most common stories were
the usual problems; food shortages on Kerberos, public sector protests on Carthago and an armour scandal in the Marine Corps. Even the President seemed to be in some sort of expenses story that seemed to be going nowhere. But the one story that caught his eye was the one given most of the coverage, and it simply stated, ‘We are not alone!’

  No shit! He laughed to himself.

  Reading further into the story, it outlined the most recent developments in New Charon. Preserved skeletal remains, destroyed technology and signs of habitation were now appearing on a large number of moons and on the three planets explored so far. The news story from the Alliance News Network implied the remains were almost certainly early colonists from Earth. The next most important story concerned the usual scapegoats, the Jötnar. Apparently, Commander Gun, leader of the Jötnar, had infiltrated New Charon and was in the process of establishing an independent outpost on one of the high gravity worlds. Jack raised his eyebrows at the story, more in annoyance than surprise.

  Why the hell not? If it were anybody else, it wouldn’t be a problem.

  A shadow appeared at the end of the room, and Jack instinctively went for his side, but he was unarmed. A flicker of fear rushed through his weakened body before the shape of a young woman appeared. She was barely over 1.6m tall, and her light blonde hair was tied back neatly behind her head. Her face was soft, almost gentle and instantly put him at ease.

  “Jack Morato, how are you feeling today?” she asked, approaching his bed.

  It was odd to watch her move as she pulled herself through the room. The grab handles were placed at frequent intervals so that she could maintain control, without crashing into fragile equipment. She seemed to float towards his bed, and that was something Jack was quite enjoying. All thoughts of the Jötnar, New Charon or even the creatures on Hades vanished as he gazed at the young woman. Her face was lightly freckled and her skin almost lilywhite, a common side effect of spending large amounts of time in space. His eyes moved from her waist and lingered on her chest, perhaps a little too long before she coughed politely.