So much death and destruction, so that was my childhood?
The one image he could not shake was that of him being restrained by Confederate security troops. At some point, they had boarded the ship and found him. As they helped him out of the ship, he was almost blinded by the bright white lights of those waiting outside. Some were doctors, others the press. But the one thing he kept hearing over and over again was people asking how he had survived. The very last memory he could find was of him looking back at the vessel from a window aboard a station or other ship. The wide umbilical shaft connected them together, and teams of medical staff were bringing bodies out of the infamous ship. A man leaned in close to him and spoke in a soft, friendly voice.
“Son, how did you survive in there? You’re the only one we found alive.”
Spartan shook his head and cast the memory aside for now.
You can reminisce maybe when all this is over, and if you’re still alive.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring into blackness. There was nothing out there, just the cool, dry feeling of the interior of the ship. His mind had drifted and for a little while he found it difficult to get his bearings. Images of ships, battles, and training all flashed about his eyes. He leaned forward, and the lights in the room flickered into life. He found himself looking right into the face of Thayara who sat on her own bunk opposite him.
“What is it?” she asked.
Spartan still found it odd that he could understand them all, even though his mind was telling them they were speaking in an alien tongue. As the light increased in brightness, he could see her skin lighten until she seemed to reflect the very light itself. Her cool, black eyes looked back at him inquisitively.
“You are concerned about the simulation?”
Spartan thought back and then shook his head.
“No. The simulation was fine, just like the last ten of them.”
She moved nearer, leaning from her bed and under the ceiling mounted strip light. The harsh lighting cast long shadows down her lithe body, and only then did Spartan realize she was naked. He moved back a few centimeters.
“What is it?” she asked, following the gaze of Spartan as he looked at her from head to toe.
“Does my form offend you?” she asked.
Her tone wasn’t coy or playful; it was anything but. As usual, Thayara was all about the work, and the looks she was receiving from Spartan were intriguing at best, but more likely annoying. Spartan cleared his throat.
“On my worlds, we do not present ourselves unclothed to each other.”
Thayara sighed and then rose to her feet, exposing herself to him even more clearly. He could see her skin now under the light, the pale smoothness, and her long black hair that disappeared behind her back.
“Your people are primitive, Spartan. We were like you once, before we embraced passion. You hide behind clothes, rules, and bureaucracies. Is it no surprise your people are so angry all of the time?”
She turned away to the single washing area they had been provided with. It was completely open to the elements and consisted of a marked section that blasted the floor with moisture that evaporated after traveling just a few meters. She stepped onto the plate and was quickly surrounded in the cleansing mist. Spartan watched her as the fluids ran down her flesh before fading and vanishing before his eyes.
“If your people were so advanced, why do they spend so much time fighting each other?”
Thayara turned to face him, deliberately baring her full form to him. Spartan chose to accept it and looked at her face with a whimsical expression.
“I did not say we are perfect. But we do leave with our worlds in harmony. All of our colonies are self-sufficient and when we do fight, it is between the Anicinàbe only. I have seen reports on your wars. You will fight and leave nothing alive, plants, creatures, oceans, and forests. You will consume and destroy them in your violence and greed.”
She shook her head, and her long black hair flicked from side to side. The fluid ran off and across the room. Spartan half expected it to strike him, but just before it could make contact, it vanished into a fine mist that did little more than cool him.
“Perhaps, but there’s a reason I’ve been chosen from all of my people to help end the violence out here.”
He lifted his arms and turned about, as though he could encompass the whole galaxy within his own arms.
“You remember the last simulation, do you not?”
She looked at him with an expression of wry amusement about her face. The strange fluid ran down her shoulders, over her chest, and then vanished just as it hit the ground. The light played with the paleness of her skin and made flashes of reflection and color about her body.
“The assault on the Byotai flagship was a victory for both of us, that is true. Our numbers were even, and I suffered fewer losses than you. I don’t see how you consider your attack more successful.”
Spartan rose to his feet and moved close to her. He continued until he was standing just a meter from her naked body, deliberately moving into her personal space. He sensed a moment of hesitation in her, but then finally she settled.
“Thayara,” he said, shaking his head, “you lost three Ghost Warriors and killed everybody on that ship. What did you achieve?”
He spotted something off to the right. At first he thought it was just a moving shadow, but then he noticed the subtle dome in the ceiling.
So, they like to watch. I thought as much.
He looked back her and waited for an answer.
“I achieved a victory. I wiped out our enemy for minimal losses. I destroyed their ship with precision strikes, as well as every soul on board.”
She laughed, a short, irritating cackle. The sound was enough to drive any desire Spartan must have felt at looking upon her nakedness.
“You were responsible for badly wounding twenty-five Ghost Warriors in your own attack. How is that better?”
Spartan smiled.
“Because I only killed six Byotai, including their commander in an honorable fight in front of their warriors. I did not kill them from afar where they were unable to defend themselves. They fought and died with honor, and because of this, I was able to dictate terms. From the bridge of their own ship, I forced their second-in-command to surrendered the ship and their warriors to me, and left him in charge.”
Thayara looked confused with his explanation.
“For my losses, I increased our fleet and added more than a hundred battle hardened Byotai ground troops. The Ghost Warriors could be repaired in less than six hours, while your combat losses would require fresh warriors, assuming there were any on hand.”
Thayara ran her hands over her hair and then down her body, making sure that every drop of the fluid had soaked into her flesh.
“Under the command of their own officer. How does that help us?”
Spartan shook his head in irritation.
“You do not understand, do you? The Byotai are not a traditional fighting force. They are well equipped for war but try to avoid it. They are a society of citizens who will fight when called upon. They value leadership, strength, and honor; things that few of the other races give much consideration to.”
He wiped his chin, considering his words carefully.
“It is not enough to just defeat our enemies. We must absorb them into ourselves, to somehow increase us, to better us. If we simply kill everything we find and destroy every ship, we will continue to shrink, and to eventually diminish until we are too weak to win. My strategy would make us stronger with every victory.”
He closed his eyes and thought of the planets in each of the alien domains. The warm worlds of the Helions, the barren rocks of the remaining T’Kari, the lush green world of the Jötnar, and the lavish, rich planets of humanity.
“Every one of their worlds and races can help us. Their ships increase our fleets, their colonies give us resources, and their people will provide the material for foot soldiers. We do not
want to fight them all. We do not need to fight them all.”
She stepped away from the cleansing unit and brushed past him toward her Thegn clothing. He ignored the contact, pulled off his clothing, and stepped onto the unit. The odd fluids pumped out and soaked him from head to toe. He immediately felt the grime and warmth of his body being pounded, scrubbed, and replenished. He turned about and wiped at his face and eyes until he was facing back into the room. Thayara stared at him with a look of fascination showing clearly across her brow.
“You think that you alone can bend their will? The Helions will not simply lay down their weapons and stand alongside us. And what about your own people? Will they side with us to end this violence?”
Spartan wiped the water from his face, brushing it from his cheeks.
“This is where we differ, Thayara, and that is why you will be an excellent second-in-command.”
She bared her teeth in mock annoyance and then hissed at him. A glowing sphere appeared in the center of the room and right where Thayara’s right arm was. She moved off to the side, and both of them looked at it. It was distorted, with little in the way of detail or information.
“Our forces are ready for the final battle. It is time to formulate our strategy. Join us on the battle deck.”
The sphere changed into an oval shape that looked closer to a face.
“You have both proven yourselves. You are ready to play the part you have been waiting all your lives for. Join us.”
* * *
Battleship Retribution, Taxxu, Uncharted Space
Spartan moved alongside Thayara and looked at her, resplendent in her exotic Ghost Warrior armor. They paused in the great hallway of the battleship and looked at the machines. These were great sculptures made from the frozen remains of ancient warriors. There were some that depicted creatures wearing plates of what looked like steel, and then others wore augmented sections and larger limbs. Above each of the figures hung long banners covered in imagery, runes, and text. No two were alike, yet all followed a similar set of standards, much like ancient human heraldry. After what seemed an age, a great thumping sound shook the very ground.
“I think they’re ready for us,” said Thayara.
The sounded repeated over and over as hundreds of objects struck the ground in a slow, rhythmic beat. On and on came the sound until even the banners and heraldry began to shudder from the impact.
“Yes, I think you’re right. Let’s go.”
The two machines walked out from the corridor and out onto a narrow, obsidian colored platform that extended out from the wall. They moved toward the edge where one machine waited for them.
“One-Zero-One,” said Spartan.
The machine turned to face them and then performed an odd movement with one arm that seemed to be a kind of honorific gesture. Spartan tried to do the same and failed badly. Thayara, on the other hand, managed a perfect mirror of the movement. One-Zero-One made a positive sound and then turned back to look out onto the vast battle deck of the warship.
“You have fought twelve simulated battles in space and on the ground. As we predicted, your solutions to the scenarios were imaginative, and truly unexpected. We have compared your results to our own simulation over the last seventy-one years. The results were most interesting.
“How so?” Thayara asked.
The machine let out a long, slow hiss, much like a sigh.
“We are powerful, technologically advanced, but long out of practice in the arts of this kind of struggle. That is why we left orders to find the strongest, the best, and those prepared to do whatever had to be done to win. There are some of us that believed you would not exist.”
The machine pointed to parts of the battle deck.
“With all of this advancement, can you blame us? We have had generations to perfect our technology and our skills. Yet after all of this time, you have won your scenarios with less than a quarter of our projected casualties. In total, we expect our campaign to take between six and thirty years to complete, yet your victories in our scenarios suggest you could do the same in less than six months, and with fewer losses.”
Thayara began to speak, but Spartan interrupted her with a raised hand and his palm outstretched toward her.
“This is not a measure of your weakness, just your isolation. We can fight better because we have been pushed, tested, and challenged. By entrusting your troops with our leadership, we can guarantee you a quick war, with minimal losses.”
Spartan looked away from the machine and out to the army with a strange mixture of surprise and awe. He’d seen the same many times before in the simulations. He and Thayara had fought alongside them in battles on human worlds, aboard alien ships, and even in the void. There was something very different at seeing them all arrayed before them, each waiting for its orders to enter battle.
The battle deck was an odd feature of the ship, much like a combined CIC from an Alliance ship and the hangar on a carrier. It contained tactical information, maps, the leadership, and all the warrior caste of the Biomechs. The ground level below them was actually a vast open space with long dividing walls nearly a meter tall. From the ceiling hung magclamps, and underneath these were hundreds and hundreds of machines. Each one was much like the machines he’d already seen, except they were all clearly awake and watching him. Spartan scanned from left to right before realizing that One-Zero-One and Thayara were both there with him. They each seemed as intrigued as the next at what they could see.
“The Grand Armada is ready to reclaim that which we lost so long ago. We have planned every possible outcome and selected the two of you to be the face of our assault. Our warriors and machines will do the work, but it will be your faces that they remember.”
The center of the battle deck altered into a massed projection of the Black Rift. Hundreds of ships waited, along with dozens of the monstrous double-ended Rift Engines.
“Our machines will open up the Rift on our command and begin the process of stabilization.”
“What is that?” Spartan asked.
The machine remained stationary, but the view in the center of the battle deck shifted to show one of the Rift Engines.
“Our Engines are our greatest achievement, a piece of technology that surpasses anything we have ever constructed before.”
“What do they do?” Thayara asked.
“The machines allow us to open an existing long-range Rift passageway or even to create new short-ranged ones. Once active, they can stabilize them over time. After the ship enters the Rift, it remains on both sides of the bridge and reconfigures it into a permanent passageway.”
Spartan said nothing, but he could immediately see the implications. Once the Rift was secured, there would be no way to close it. He’d seen that already in the assault upon the Rift Engine in the last battle. While the machine existed, so did the Rift.
“It takes ten hours to fully prepare a Rift, and after fifteen hours the process is irreversible. We will never again be banished to this side of the Great Seal, nor will our enemies be able to hide. Finally, we can leave our banishment on the ancient worlds of our people.”
Spartan listened intently and made a mental note of any mention of the technology and the plan.
“This is your assault force, a mere handful from the great host you will lead. These seventy-five Ghost Warriors are to be your watchers and your bodyguard. They will ensure you maintain the path of glory and will fight, and if necessary, die for the cause.”
The machine then looked to Thayara who was resplendent in her new armor.
“Thayara. As a superlative combatant, and an expert in the art of hand-to-hand combat, you will have an honor equal to mine and Spartan’s to join our holy Triumvirate in the coming battle.”
Thayara looked to Spartan, her suit of advanced armor creaking as she twisted about.
“You’ve already discussed this?”
Spartan nodded in agreement.
“Yes, of course.”
; In the last hour, he had spoken with the twelve senior commanders of the so-called Ghost Army, one of which was One-Zero-One. Until now he’d assumed that Thayara would have been given the same conversation and choices. He suspected this was some kind of power play.
“The three of us will provide everything that is needed to win this war.”
He looked out and past her and the columns of warriors, and instead to the great floating sphere that functioned as a three-dimensional tactical display. It showed every one of the myriad of vessels waiting in the Taxxu System. He didn’t bother counting ships and instead looked at the formations. There were clearly twelve subgroups, each one based around a gigantic vessel. He didn’t recognize the design, but it was very similar to the Ravagers he’d encountered before.
“Our battleships will strike as spear points into the minds of the enemy,” said One-Zero-One.
The machine then pointed one of its limbs to the floating display. The twelve largest vessels blinked three times. They were massive, at least three times bigger than anything else out there and almost half the size of the Rift Engines.
“Each of our battleships contains seventy-five Ghost Soldiers and one of the Defeated.”
He said the word with obvious shame, tinged with reverence.
“They are the supreme commanders, the only of us entitled to a place among our ancestors.”
“What?” Spartan asked, “A place now, or when you’re dead?”
“Yes,” said the machine, much to his annoyance.
Thanks, that makes no sense.
“Wait, are you one of them?”
One-Zero-One lowered his torso in a partial bow.
Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift Page 20