All three were unarmed, save for blades carried about their person, a concession even Spartan was unprepared to make. They moved through the corridors and passageways with speed, and everywhere they went they were met with odd looks. The Thegns were hardly surprising to see on the ship, but this far inside and so close to the command center of the vessel, it was most odd. Spartan looked to the alien foot soldier and raised one eyebrow in question.
“Forty-Seven, are your warriors ready?”
The alien continued walking forwards and said nothing. It did look at him with an odd, slightly confused look, rather like a small dog. Khan laughed at the failure in communication.
“Spartan, you remember what Z’Kanthu said. They are limited in their intelligence, and they cannot speak our language, not yet.”
Spartan sighed and tried again.
“Forty-Seven, Bandon status.”
The Thegn seemed to comprehend some, if not all of what he was asking this time.
“Forty-Seven, ready. Bandon ready.”
Khan swung out and struck Spartan with his a right arm. The impact hit hard and forced Spartan to stumble before righting himself. He might have hit back, but a squad of marines was marching directly towards them. He might not be a marine any longer, but he was still in charge of thousands of soldiers, and his respect for the service had never dimmed.
“See, you just need the right words,” laughed Khan.
They approached the entrance to the CIC, and a pair of marine guards blocked their way in. Spartan took a step closer, and both guards lowered their carbines.
“I’m here to see the Captain.”
The two men said nothing, but one appeared to be speaking to someone over his communication system. The second looked at Khan from head to toe, barely able to conceal his disgust at what he was looking at. Spartan glanced at his friend.
“Must be another Terra Novan. We’ve got fans everywhere.”
The Thegn soldier waited in silence, not even moving when one of the guards made a disparaging remark to his comrade. The other chortled with amusement before finally straightening up and standing to the side. Both men saluted and ensured there was plenty of space for the three to move inside. The Thegn and Spartan went in, but Khan lingered and then stopped. Spartan spotted him but chose to carry on while shaking his head. He glanced back to see what would happen.
Khan looked at one and then to the other before sniffing them. The act was like that of an animal sniffing something new or unusual. The two marines looked at each other and chuckled. There were many in the Alliance that saw Khan and his kin as nothing more than animals, beasts of war that were suitable for nothing else. The taller one began to say something, and that was when Khan saw his chance. He lunged at him, and the man shook and took half a step backwards. His rushed action also made him fall over, his honor being saved only by the bulkhead nearby.
Khan roared with laughter and carried on right behind Spartan. The tall marine moved in behind Khan and made to strike him, but the other marine grabbed his arm. Khan tilted his head just a fraction so that he could see what was happening and began to laugh. Both marines then faced them, watching as the party went deep inside the CIC and away from their reach.
"Stupid children," he growled in mock annoyance.
There was a visible tension as the three entered, with each of them being watched carefully. Spartan noticed the looks, but it had little, if any effect on him. His was used to this kind of response, especially from those worlds with limited contact with other races.
I’m not in the Corps any longer. Neither is Khan or Forty-Seven. We’ve come across this rubbish a hundred times.
As he approached Captain Vetlaya, he wondered what exactly they would be classed as now. He was a retired Marine Corps Officer, and Khan was a synthetic being, created by the enemy’s technology in the Uprising. Forty-Seven was a foot soldier of the enemy regime, a soldier whom only recently had been granted complete free will via the captured Core on Mars. Even Spartan wasn’t completely comfortable having the warrior so close, but with the machines now firm allies; he had to do his part. By keeping the Thegn that was most honored of those recovered at Sol, he was making a statement to all of them. The Thegns were his allies, and he trusted them. At least that was what he needed them to feel. He just had to hope the modifications made by Z'Kanthu were both correct and permanent.
“Legatus Spartan, you’ve arrived at an…interesting time.”
He looked at the Captain and then around the CIC. Dozens of faces looked back, and not one seemed particularly pleased to see him. It was not that different to how things had been before, but at least as a Marine officer he had been due some degree of respect. Now he felt like an outsider, somebody that perhaps shouldn’t even be on the ship. It was only then he realized the title he had somehow been awarded.
“What’s happening with Explorer?” Khan asked.
Spartan could barely contain his smile at the question from Khan, even though his friend had now interrupted his question regarding his position.
“Explorer is preparing to establish a Rift, Tribune.”
Both Spartan and Khan looked at each other and then back to the Captain.
“What the hell is it with these names, Captain?”
The young officer looked a little taken aback at this. She turned, spoke to her XO, and then nodded toward a modest screen near her arm. Several images showed the two of them along with their service records and security details. More importantly, the screen also showed the other bandon, their attached Marine Corps liaison officers, and a codename for their taskforce. Spartan instantly noticed the name for Khan’s title.
“Tribune?”
Now it was Captain Vetlaya’s turn to smile.
“Yes, Legate. In the last thirty minutes, a number of new orders have come in from Alliance Command. General Rivers himself has reinstated both of you into the Alliance military, with honorific titles befitting your special status in this campaign.”
“Legate?” he said again, but quieter this time.
Captain Vetlaya tapped the device, and the image of Spartan enlarged to show a rough chain of command for him and his assorted forces. At the same time, the imagery on the mainscreen changed to show a Rift being created before their very eyes. Spartan’s eyes widened as he watched the ever-growing shape near ANS Explorer. The distortion flickered and rippled before settling down to create a temporary and instantaneous Spacebridge between Helios Prime and its destination. An image of Admiral Anderson appeared to the right, and all of the senior officers stopped and watched.
“Men and women of this fleet. Our hand has been called, and it is time for us to act. General Rivers is leading the fight here, and even as I speak, we have warships making for the surface. The campaign to reclaim this star system is well underway."
Spartan looked to Khan and back to the screen.
"We will follow a different and equally important path."
Khan nodded as the Admiral spoke.
"Animosh sympathizers and traitors in the Helion fleet have committed their last treacherous act. Just hours ago, they turned their guns on the T'Kari and small number of Alliance vessels guarding the Rift station complex. Latest reports show the area has stabilized, but the fight is ongoing."
The mood seemed to change in seconds in the CIC. There had been reports of the fighting there, but the main signal chatter indicated it was far less significant that it appeared.
"It is our mission to take the fight to the Black Rift, the gateway to the Biomechs’ domain, and the thorn in the side of both the Helion League and the Alliance. Even now, the first enemy vessels are minutes away from reaching the defense force and adding their numbers to the traitor Helion ships."
Spartan leaned in to Khan.
"If they can open that thing, you know what's coming through."
Khan raised both of his eyebrows in surprise. There had been much speculation, but in reality there wasn't a soul in the Alliance that reall
y knew.
"What do you mean?"
The loud voice of the Admiral drowned both of them out.
"It is our duty to keep it shut, no matter the cost. All ships, stations, and personnel are expendable for this mission. If anything comes through, you will do everything…and anything to stop them. Good hunting.”
That was it, nothing particularly detailed, just a quick and direct call to arms for the fleet. Even now, the first ships in the massed formation were already altering their course and making for the Rift. The first to make it was ANS Warlord, a ship that at this range looked like a behemoth. A handful of Helion vessels move in nearby, but their sleek hulls and attractive lines were nothing like the brutality of the double-hulled Warlord. Where they had aesthetics, the Alliance ship had armor, and where they had weapons, ANS Warlord had banks of turrets. The flagship was a monster, a ship built in a rush by simply throwing together everything available in one shipyard.
Captain Vetlaya signaled to her XO.
"The enemy advance force is due in minutes, and the rest will be two hours behind them, so we can expect action from the minute we arrive. Get them ready. This one is going to be bloody."
The ship was already at maximum alert, but it would have been foolhardy to suggest anything less. As the XO sent orders to each of the vessels’ stations, the Captain looked back to Spartan and Khan.
"You don't have long. I suggest you return to your troops. Anderson is leading the vanguard. We will be following in the third group, along with the rest of the Black Ships."
Khan pointed to the icons representing the unofficial vessels from Hyperion.
"And them?"
Captain Vetlaya looked back to Spartan as she answered.
"General Rivers’ last order before heading for Helios Prime was to grant all of these ships a temporary commission in the Fleet."
Khan pulled his head back a little.
"Can he do that?"
Spartan interjected.
"Who cares? Official or semi-official, we're all going through."
He then turned his attention back to the Captain.
"Before we go, what the hell is this Legatus and Tribune business all about?"
Captain Vetlaya was clearly agitated with so much to be done. She considered sending them away, but it was clear the two needed something, no matter how brief.
“Look, a Legate, or more properly, a Legatus, is the title used long before the Confederacy. In that period, armed forces were raised and sent on operations under the command of important citizens for the length of the campaign. The Martian revolt in the twenty-third century A.D. required an emergency expedition that was led by a retired General who was granted Legate of the expedition.”
She nodded as Spartan began to understand.
“It is an odd term, but one we are vaguely familiar with in the Navy. You are granted full autonomy within the constraints of this campaign in the Orion Nebula. Once back in Alliance territory, you and Tribune Khan will revert to being honored citizens of the Alliance and lose your position in the military.”
"Great, so we're Alliance commanders, providing we never go home," said Spartan.
It was a bittersweet offer, and one he knew was almost certainly the best General Rivers could have done at short notice. It was a solution of sorts, but it also provided some problems later on. He turned to Khan who looked equally troubled.
"We've got nothing to worry about until this is all over. All we need to do is win and to survive this thing. What are the odds?"
The last few words came out a little louder than he'd intended, and he managed to attract the attention of a number of officers. Even Captain Vetlaya appeared unimpressed at his suggestion. Spartan nodded and then made for the door. He stopped and looked back, with Khan standing there along with the Thegn.
"Well, you coming? We've got a battle to plan!"
They chased after him, but before they reached the corridor Khan spoke out.
"What do you mean, we know what's coming through?"
Now Spartan looked confused.
"We saw the plans on the Biomech ship, don't you remember?"
Khan shook his head in confusion.
"No, Spartan, I never saw a thing to do with the Black Rift."
Spartan seemed unfazed by this and continued down the corridor with the Thegn right beside him. Khan dropped back a step and thought back to their time on the prison ship. He remembered the questioning, the torture, and the machines. But try as he might, he could not remember a dammed thing about the Rift. Even worse though, he had no memory of Spartan ever mentioning this before. He increased his pace to catch up.
"Spartan, can we handle what's on the other side?"
Spartan didn't stop, but he did twist about to look at his old friend. He didn't bother speaking. There was no need. The look was the same look Khan had seen in the eyes of the walking dead monsters sent in battle by the Biomechs. It was a look off insatiable, uncontrollable violence.
"Khan, there is nothing here that can keep them back. Nothing. This fleet, these ships, they are just delaying the inevitable."
Then his eyes narrowed, and the color almost came back.
“You and I, Khan, we know who they are.”
He placed both of his hands onto Khan’s forearms.
“Only we can stop them, my friend.”
* * *
ANS Warlord, T'Karan-Helios Prime Rift
Admiral Anderson watched the mainscreen and did his best to keep his pulse under control. They inched closer and closer, and he knew that at any moment they would reach the Rift and then be propelled through to the other side of the star system. The journey time was two hundred and twenty-four light minutes away, yet the Rift allowed them to reach the target in an instant; there was no traveling time in the Rift. It operated merely as a doorway into another part of space.
“Six seconds, Sir,” said the XO.
Anderson could see the clock and was counting down in his head. Every single ship in his fleet was ready for the battle. The plan was simple, one of the simplest he’d ever come up with.
“Two seconds.”
The Rift filled the entire mainscreen. He swallowed and then blinked. At the moment his eyes opened, they were in a completely different part of space. Before them was a strange series of flashes and distortion. He ignored them and moved his attention to the rapidly updating tactical display. There he could see the small number of defending ships, as well as the traitorous Helion vessels.
“We’re being targeted,” said the XO.
“You all know the drill. Escorts will deal with the Helions. The rest will form up in a defensive formation at the designated coordinates.
“Aye, Sir.”
Ship after ship appeared. They quickly moved off with sixteen escort vessels making for the Rift control station. They immediately engaged the five remaining Helion cruisers in a mid-ranged battle that saw gunfire and missiles exchanged at a high rate.
“Incoming communication from the T’Kari commander, Admiral.”
“On screen.”
The face of a T’Kari commander appeared to the right of the mainscreen. At times like this, it was imperative the view consisted primarily of the ongoing action, in this case the fight around the Rift station.
“T’Kron?” Anderson asked, surprised.
“Admiral, good to see you. We have a problem out here.”
The imagery behind the alien showed emergency lighting and some considerable damage. The translator on his suit created a subtle degree of lag. It wasn’t enough to impede conversation, but it was enough to make it look as though the alien had been dubbed into another language.
“The first wave of Biomech ships will be here in less than a minute.”
“I know. My ships are deploying to form a defensive laager around the proposed Rift site.”
T’Kron shook his head in disagreement.
“No, Admiral. My exiles have only seen this signature twice before in our history. The
approaching ships are doing something we’ve not encountered in this system.”
“Well?”
“The signature matches a Biomech Rift opening sequence. We have records in our files of this being the precursor to the early stages of Rift creation.”
Anderson shook his head in disbelief. He glanced over to his XO.
“Are the ships in position?”
Captain Decker nodded.
“Yes, Sir, ninety-one capital ships and escorts in a standard laager pattern formation.”
It was far less ships than he had intended for any one mission. The rest of the fleet was busy fighting in orbit over Helios Prime or landing troops on the surface of that devastated world. The combined force would have given him more than three hundred ships of various classes and ages. He’d stripped out most of the frontline ships for this operation and left the transports and commercial vessels with the General for his own mission. He looked back to T’Kron.
“How many ships are coming this way?”
“Fifty-six ships, Admiral. They are advancing in a crescent formation around three Cruiser class ships.”
“Any suggestions?” asked the Admiral.
T’Kron might be an alien, but his time with humans had allowed him to learn and partially adopt some mannerisms. This time he tried a laugh. It didn’t entirely work and sounded more like he was choking. When he was finished, he pointed off to his left.
Star Crusades Nexus: The Third Trilogy Page 53