The first group sent a pang of hurt through him just by their appearance alone. It was twenty battlesynths from Lot 700—Lucky's siblings—that had answered his call. They were led by Combat Unit 701 instead of their usual commander, 707. Apparently, 707 had helped Jason's son steal the Phoenix and was now riding shotgun with the kid while he tried to capture the same woman who had tried to have Jason killed once upon a time. He shook his head as he realized how messy and intertwined all his personal relationships were getting.
The second group was just as feared throughout the quadrant as the battlesynths were, but they were a biological species. They were called Zeta-Saka…Galvetic Special Forces. They were, in a word, terrifying. Jason had worked with the Galvetic Marines and the Legions many times before, and Crusher was still considered one of the best warriors they'd ever produced, but the single time Jason had contact with the Zeta-Saka was enough to make him never want to cross them. The silent, brooding warriors were so different than the raucous Legionnaires, true professionals and stone-cold killers. The Legions were sending them three fire teams of ten warriors each, and then a single officer that was in overall command of the detachment.
That made fifty-one of the most badass small-unit infantry soldiers in the quadrant to bolster their single human, a single Galvetic warrior, and one weaselly little Veran.
"The Zeta's are asking for permission to dock," Crusher said. "I'll meet them at the airlock."
"Got it," Jason said. "The battlesynth group will be here in forty minutes. You think we should just get this over with and have everyone mingle in the hangar bay?"
"Might as well," Crusher said. "When the fighting starts, there's not a lot to break in there."
The Zeta-Saka warriors boarded the ship with their equipment quickly and efficiently. They stacked their gear down the corridor and had everyone through the airlock in under five minutes. Seven minutes after they'd made hard dock, the nondescript transport ship retracted its gangway and pulled away from the Devil's Fortune. It had thrusted away to a distance of two-hundred klicks before engaging its grav-drive, just moments before Cas floated into the airlock antechamber.
"The battlesynth troop transport has arrived and is moving for rendezvous," Cas said.
"Tell Doc they have permission to dock on the starboard side," Jason said. "They probably won't bring any equipment, but make sure Twingo has a space cleared for them anyway." Cas zipped away without answering, and Jason wondered why the thing didn't just use the intercom. Maybe it still wasn't accustomed to being in a physical body.
"I can't believe this one is still alive!" someone shouted out from where the Zeta warriors were clustered. Jason's head snapped up at the familiar voice.
"No fucking way!" he laughed, moving forward, and embracing the hulking warrior who had peeled away from the group and approached.
"You think I'd miss this?" Mazer Reddix asked, wrapping Jason up in a bear hug that would have crushed a small car.
"I figured you'd be too old for it," Jason said. "They let you out of the schoolhouse?" Mazer had worked on training programs for the Legions the last time Jason had seen him and appeared to be satisfied with his non-operational role after all of the times Omega Force had almost gotten him killed.
"I've been training Zeta-Saka teams for the last year or so and pulled some strings to come in an observational role," Mazer said with a wide, toothy smile before turning to Crusher. "My Lord Archon, my warriors and I are prepared to serve, sir."
"It's good to see you, my friend!" Crusher clapped Mazer on the shoulder in a gesture of genuine affection. "How is your brother?"
"Older and grouchier, as if that was even possible," Mazer said. "He sends his warmest regards."
"I wish I could break away to go see him, but these are hard times," Crusher said.
"It's understood," Mazer said.
"The battlesynths will be docking here soon," Jason said. "You want to get these guys down to the hangar bay, and then we can do the initial brief once the others arrive?"
"Listen up!" Crusher thundered, his voice booming through the antechamber and down the corridors. "Leave your gear where it is, follow us down to the hangar bay, and we'll let you know what you volunteered for. We have one more specialized team coming in. How many of you have ever worked with battlesynths?" There was a spatter of stunned whispers, and a few hands went up.
"How many battlesynths, my Lord Archon?" a voice asked respectfully from the group.
"Twenty," Crusher said. Now, the whispers were more energetic, and there were a few excited shouts. Overall, the mood seemed quite positive at the news, and Jason breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Don't get too relaxed," Mazer leaned over and whispered. "Many of them are excited because they have the chance to test themselves against what's regarded to be the toughest fighters in the galaxy."
"Just make sure they don't tear my damn ship apart," Jason said. "Or hurt themselves too badly to do the mission."
"I'll do my best," Mazer promised.
The group moved quickly down the central corridor of the Main Deck and into the hangar bay, where they milled about, waiting patiently. Mazer drifted over and poked around the SX-5 as Jason jogged back up to meet the group from Lot 700 at their starboard airlock. As he ran, Cas fell in beside him.
"This is exciting," Cas said.
"How so?"
"It will be the first time these two groups of fighters have ever operated at the same place, at the same time…much less on the same team," Cas bubbled. "It's historic."
"I didn't realize you were such a fan," Jason said, pulling up to a stop by the airlock antechamber's inner hatch.
"I've spent a lot of my time watching Lucky and Crusher spar," Cas said. "They're both considered to be at the apex of their respective species. Now, I'll get to not only compare that against others to see how true it was, but I’ll also see both groups doing the thing they were trained and built for."
"Just try to keep your excitement contained," Jason warned. "One ill-timed comment could end up kicking off a brawl in my hangar bay."
"And?"
"And I need them healthy for the mission," Jason said as the lights around the airlock hatch flashed amber to tell him someone was docking. "Not to mention my brand-new ship sitting there. They would probably end up damaging it."
"Captain Burke," Combat Unit 701 boomed as he strode into the ship, seeming to take up all the space in the small antechamber. "It is a pleasure to see you again, my good friend." Jason cocked his head at that. While Lot 700 had pledged their undying loyalty to him for services rendered, they'd never expressed any sort of actual emotional affinity for him before.
"And you as well, 701," Jason said. "It's been too long."
"Your request for help was vague, so I have brought twenty soldiers with me and an assortment of heavy armament," 701 said. "Before we proceed, I must ask…this does not have anything to do with your errant offspring, does it?"
"Ah," Jason said, understanding 701's unusual mannerisms now. They were afraid he was going to take offense at them helping Jacob. "No, this is a real mission. We can discuss that situation later but know I'm pleased and grateful you're looking out for my son. It makes me sleep easier knowing 707 and 784 are watching his back." 701 actually seemed to stand a little straighter at that.
"It is our honor to protect him, Captain," he said. "If you would point us to our berth, we will stow our equipment and the transport can be sent back to Terranovus before it is missed."
"This way," Jason indicated the direction for 701 to follow. "You left without telling anybody?"
"They do not ask about our comings and goings," 701 said, "but we felt it better to try and leave without them realizing it. Captain Webb has a habit of being overly curious, and we had preferred not to have a Scout Fleet team trailing us all the way here."
"Sensible," Jason said. "You'll be in here…Cargo Bay Four. Our other tactical asset will be across the way in Bay Three."
"Othe
r tactical asset?" 701 asked.
"We also have thirty-one Zeta-Saka warriors coming along," Jason said. "They're in the hangar bay right now waiting for us to do the initial briefing."
"I have heard of them." 701 sounded like he approved. "Formidable fighters and close combat specialists. We will integrate with them without trouble."
"I'd prefer you keep the integrating to a minimum on the way to the target," Jason warned. "Go ahead and get your people squared away, and then we'll get started."
"Everybody, listen up!" Jason hopped up on a transit crate that was anchored to the hangar bay deck, waving his arms to get their attention. Fifty-one additional guns in his arsenal, and all of them among the most respected and feared fighters in the known galaxy.
"Welcome aboard the Devil's Fortune. She's a corvette-class ship but punches above her weight. We've moved into slip-space already so we're not a sitting target in the rendezvous system. Before we get down to business, I just wanted to thank all of you for volunteering for this mission. I know you came without knowing what we're about to get into or who you'll be fighting against, and I appreciate you coming anyway."
"Omega Force is always selfishly taking all the best, most violent missions for themselves," Mazer called out. "We're just glad you're giving us a chance to play this time!" There were cheers from the Zeta warriors, and mildly confused looks from the battlesynths. They weren't an outwardly emotional lot.
"Can you give us some background, Captain? We can go in blind, but I'd appreciate knowing who we're fighting and why." The speaker was one of the fire team leaders of the Zeta-Saka group. He was taller and leaner than most Galvetic warriors, and his yellow eyes shown with a keen intelligence.
"I'm sure you're all aware of the recent unrest in the quadrant and the ConFed's new policy of expansion by force." Jason said. "How many of you know of the silent coup that's taken place and the leadership change at the top of the ConFed's political power structure?" There were many startled faces and more than a few heads shaking in the negative. Even the battlesynths looked surprised.
"Okay, by show of hands, how many of you know about the mission Omega Force did some years back where we went well past the border region to destroy an ancient relic? Mazer Reddix was there for that one, actually." This time, all the hands went up.
"After that mission, something came back with us," Jason said. "It was a corrupted, fully sentient AI that had been aboard the construct we destroyed. It uploaded itself to a ConFed battleship and came all the way back to Miressa Prime. Once it dug in there, it began to use its unique talents to find leverage on powerful people within the government and subvert them. By the time most of them realized this was beyond politics as usual, it was too late. Now, the AI, which calls itself the Machine, is the de facto ruler of the ConFed. It controls all the Grand Adjudicators, the High Court, and most of the Upper Council Chamber. It is the power in the region right now, and it's doing it all behind the scenes.
"It was responsible for that debacle on Khepri where the Central Banking AI was destroyed. We thought it was the work of revolutionaries bent on breaking the ConFed's power when it first went down, but now we realize it was just a pretense for a new system to be put in place."
"A new system compatible to this…Machine?" Mazer guessed.
"Exactly," Jason said. "What we didn't realize at the time was the new banking system, designed on Khepri again, was compromised the instant it went online. We're not exactly sure how the system actually works, but the evidence is strong that it is an autonomous AI willingly giving the Machine access to whatever it wants. Putting aside the obvious advantage of being able to track financial exchanges on people you want to blackmail, it also means the Machine could shut down commerce for some, or all, of the quadrant if it was ever pressed too hard. That was the moment its revolution really started, and almost nobody was aware of it."
Jason continued to give an honest, open assessment of what they knew about the Machine and what they assumed its intentions were. He left out the fact that the little drone hovering around behind him was controlled by an AI of the same family and that most of their mission revolved around information given to him from yet another of those AIs.
His audience seemed to take it all in stride, absorbing the information and reacting little as Jason laid out how this malevolent computer program had managed to usurp the political power of the ConFed. The recitation also helped Jason solidify in his own mind what it was he was even fighting for. Sometimes, he lost sight of the bigger picture because Omega Force, as a small, specialized team, tended to focus on the small details. It was easy to forget that the Machine threatened the wellbeing and self-determination of everybody in the quadrant, maybe even beyond that. The damn thing was practically immortal, after all, and had millennia to plan its conquest.
"I have a question that might be for the Lord Archon, Captain," a burly warrior in front said. "Do we have any indicator that this thing might move against the Empire anytime soon?" The Galvetic Empire only had two worlds in its own home system, so the grandiose title of empire was a bit misleading. Jason had learned the hard way, however, that they didn't appreciate outsiders pointing that out.
"There's no direct intel that suggests we're in its sights," Crusher said. "We have a unique resource in the Legions, but so far, the ConFed's military action has been mostly limited to its fleet, and they have no need of trying to coerce the Empire to make us serve."
"The Machine isn't stupid," Jason added. "It will know that bringing legionaries aboard its ships and trying to force them to fight for it will just end up in a lot of dead crews." The warriors all roared their approval at the comment.
"So, who do we have to kill?" Mazer asked.
"Anybody who stops us from reaching our objective once we're aboard this." Jason activated the holographic display behind him. Floating in space above him was a formidable looking orbital station floating above an azure planet. "This station has the innocuous name of Disaggregation Platform Six-Six. It is part of the ConFed's internal long-haul communications network. Same protocols as a public Nexus, with substantially more layers of encryption. Platform Six-Six is one of eighteen installations that takes the aggregate trunk from Miressa Prime over the hyper-link and breaks out the individual channels, forwarding them out to other switching stations and nodes."
"Why this one in particular?" 701 asked.
"There are five platforms we've identified that carry slip-com channels dedicated specifically to the Machine. These are how it sends orders, communicates with underlings, and manages things like its new Central Banking AI without going through the official channels. We discovered them with the help of someone on the inside who was able to determine when they were added and who authorized them.
"Six-Six was picked out of the five stations we could hit because it orbits a planet with low population density and has a sparse Fleet presence. The planet, Ozda-3, is entirely covered by water and has a mean temperature of three-hundred- and sixteen-degrees Kelvin so not too many people can, or want, to live there."
"What's the fleet presence?" Mazer asked.
"A single Yesset-class medium cruiser," Crusher answered. "It's there to provide security for the system, but the station itself might be defended. Standard ConFed procedure has regular fleet troops rotating in and out among the different stations at random intervals."
"Which is why we need you guys," Jason said. "From what our insider told us, the platform can have anywhere from seventy to a hundred ConFed troopers garrisoned there. That's on top of the fifteen or so technicians who will probably be aboard that could end up pitching in to defend the station once they realize we're aboard.
"We need to make one more stop where we'll pick up the ship we'll be using to make the final approach to the platform. Once aboard, I need to get the payload to this room—" the hologram shifted and outlined a route from the docking arm to one of the control rooms two decks above, "and then, I'll need around six minutes to make sure I wa
s successful. If this goes as planned, we'll have managed to neutralize the threat."
"But not eradicate?" 701 asked. Jason cursed battlesynths attention to detail.
"Not eradicate," he confirmed. "Trying to purge the program from the system would likely prove to be impossible, but we've found a way we believe can render it inert."
"I would like to see the technical details of this plan later, if you do not mind, Captain," 701 said.
"Of course," Jason said. "You can review the entire thing with Kage at your convenience. Are there any other questions? This is just a fifty-thousand-foot view of what we're doing. We're about twelve days away from the objective, so we'll have more detailed breakout briefs and some dry runs so we're ready to go once we arrive."
"We have no questions at this time," 701 said.
"Zetas are good to go, Captain," Mazer said.
"Then let's get to it."
22
Saditava Mok paced the observation lounge of his ship. Even though it was only one of fourteen ships he rotated between to keep his whereabouts secret, it was also his favorite, and thus he considered it to be his ship rather than just another vessel out of Blazing Sun's fleet.
He watched the displays above the forward windows as ships were loaded with the specialty munitions and departing the system along randomized vectors. Part of him wanted so badly to go with his fleet captains on this mission, to be part of the fight again in a direct way, but the more pragmatic side of him realized he simply couldn't afford to be away for that long. It would be days before Admiral Colleran had her forces in position to strike the Machine's weapon, and he needed to remain behind to make sure his own organization saw him and realized he was still there and in charge.
Over the last few months, he had become too engrossed in the planning phases of the rebellion, and the Blazing Sun syndicate had taken note of his absence. The leadership position in the organization he had forged by conquering and combining seven different criminal groups was tenuous, even for the founder. He had the Twelve Points of the Blazing Sun, his direct underlings and captains in the syndicate. They were the only ones who had direct access to his time, and they were the ones he trusted the least. They spent as much time plotting his demise as they did managing their own affairs.
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