“Screw this!” he muttered and marched off for the door.
It might have led to something worse but the waiting was just as bad and if it was terrible he wanted it over with as quickly as possible. After his experiences in the ring and in combat he understood the unreasoning fear that gripped a man as he awaited his fate. With a final look behind he walked faster, ever watchful for anything, a marking, an object or handle that might give him cause for hope. He ran his hand along the wall, feeling for something. As he reached the door he found nothing, not even a scratch. Pushing his hand forward the door slid to the side to reveal a brightly lit room. The door was almost silent, more a hiss than a mechanical rhythm.
“Come in,” came a firm voice from inside the room.
Spartan stepped forward, squinting at the light as he entered. With a whistle sound the door slid shut behind him. In front was a large metal desk and around the room what looked like cylindrical windows. Outside was the stillness and tranquillity of water. For a moment Spartan thought they were under an ocean but he quickly remembered they were on an inhospitable planet of fire and lava. Hardly the view you would want from your windows and definitely not a cool ocean. He thought to himself, was there even any water on the planet, before remembering where he was.
“I see you’re admiring the view?” said the man sat at the desk.
Spartan said nothing, he’d already worked out they were deep underground and this room contained fake windows, much like the artificial windows on board the Confederate Navy vessels. By projecting an image onto the wall or a pre-allocated space the illusion of any location could be created.
“Nice view,” replied Spartan in a calm a tone as he could muster.
“Quite,” he replied, then took a gulp of water from a glass on the desk.
“You are probably wondering why I have asked for you to be brought to me?”
“You’re Governor Richards?”
“Indeed. I see your memory is intact...good. Now, I have been reading your dossier and I see there are some, shall we say, slightly colourful episodes in your life over the last ten years?”
“I guess.”
“You guess? I don’t think so. A man with your background and training is wasted in the service of Marine Corps. Do they even know about your history before that unfortunate pit fight incident?”
“Incident? I was forced to fight to pay my debts, I had no choice!” Spartan was getting angry.
“I’m not really interested in that, I would rather hear your side of the story about the years before you joined the military. My contacts inform me that several members of your family were killed by colonial security forces, the forces who now serve the same master as yourself. Don’t you find that a little ironic?”
Spartan fidgeted, he was uncomfortable as he listened to the man’s questions. There didn’t appear to be any guards and the room was bare apart from the two chairs, the desk and the windows. He thought of rushing ahead and grabbing the Governor but it couldn’t be that easy, not a chance.
“You don’t know about my family.”
“Oh the contrary, I know all about your family. You will find our records are far more detailed than those of the so called Confederacy.”
He moved his hand across the desk and brought up a series of virtual documents and photographs that he moved over to Spartan’s side. He glanced at them but took no interest as the past meant little to him. He had always lived in the here and now and talking to this man was the price he had to pay while he worked out his escape plan.
“Did you know your parents were pilgrims? They were involved in the founding of some of the Church’s most influential buildings. You don’t remember them do you?”
“Remember what? It says on my records what happened to me and there is nothing about pilgrims or any other crap. Come on, your reports are shit. You don’t even have my father’s name!”
The man looked a little angry at his outburst and even a little disappointed.
“Your records state your parents died in a car crash when you were an infant. They found you near a burnt wreck and took you to hospital. Ten years later and you were still moving from children’s homes. The interesting thing though is that we both know that isn’t how it happened, don’t we?”
Spartan had blocked out most of his childhood and he could feel the old memories starting to surface. With effort he forced them back down and looked at the Governor.
“I don’t care about the past. I’m only interested in what happens next.”
“The second part I don’t doubt. Well, you’re in luck, Spartan. As you may have noticed, unlike the Confederacy, our organisation is moving up in the world. This facility is one of many and it is going to provide a future for every soul in this System.”
Spartan looked at him suspiciously. The mention of forces hostile to those he served felt alien to him, though he couldn’t deny that the Confederacy had taken serious blows in the last months as the insurgency grew.
“You have probably already worked out that this isn’t a Confederate facility, it isn’t even an official Promethean outpost. This entire centre is owned outright by the Drakaina Research Corporation and the great work we are doing here will help change this entire System for the better.” He pressed a few buttons at the end of the desk.
Spartan looked around the room and then back to where a number of three-dimensional diagrams appeared showing the layout of the complex. As he watched he was shocked to see how far underground the compound went. If this was true the site was easily twenty times bigger than he had thought, large enough to hide an entire colony if required to. The display altered slightly and followed several shafts moving out from the site.
“As you can see here, we are expanding into the bedrock where we will establish additional laboratories and factories. You might think we are treating you poorly, Spartan, but trust me, this is all for the greater good.”
Spartan stared at him, his expression obvious. “Bullshit!”
“Quite,” replied the Governor before continuing, “the Confederacy has never been strong. Each colony is independent, too independent while the political and military wings of the state have trouble maintaining order. It is inevitable that the structure will collapse, the only question is how many will die in the conflagration that will burn through every colony.”
“How many will die? The insurgency is responsible for the deaths of thousands already!” replied an angry Spartan.
“Some must die if the colonies are to be reborn into a single safe, powerful and secure empire for its citizens.”
“And your solution for this is to stir up trouble so the colonies tear themselves apart?”
“We need to start from the beginning. A new slate if you will, and there is no point in trying to fight the Confederacy, even weakened it will fight for decades. With the help of people like you we can simply make the Confederacy impotent, remove them from the equation and replace them with a new, solid foundation as part of a new union of colonies.”
Spartan shook his head. Though some of the ideas seemed reasonable he knew deep down that this man must be tied in with the insurgents and if that were true then their religious and social doctrine wouldn’t be far behind. He’d already seen what religious fanaticism was capable of and he wanted nothing to do with it.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“It is my job to provide a large part of the resources needed by our people to rebuild this star system. As we sit here thousands of undesirables work to expand this complex, right under the noses of your Confederation lackeys. We are always looking for new recruits to lead combat forces and to represent the public face of the organisation.”
For a moment Spartan was tempted to get physical and hit or strike, anything other than listen to the drone from this man. He really wasn’t interested in politics but it was obvious something big was planned and he was being offered a chance to take part in it.
“Why would I want to join you?”
“A fair point. First of all, your training and skills have been brought to our attention. You have fought in multiple engagements where you have overcome overwhelming odds. We have many resources but we are always looking out for those with more specialist skills and the experience to do what needs to be done. If you join us you will become part of the solution, not the problem. The rewards will be great and in time you can expect to see your status improve immeasurably.”
The Governor was obviously finished and placed both hands on the desk, indicating he wanted a response from Spartan.
“You aren’t giving me the whole story here. Who exactly is ‘us’? Your corporation doesn’t operate on its own, what are your relations with the Church or the Zealots?”
“Relationship? Come now, surely you must have realised by now that there are no factions or interested parties involved. These are just names, the public faces for our movement. Join us and help change the Confederacy into what it should be.”
Spartan had to force himself not to slam his fist onto the desk. He was trying to think ahead but it didn’t seem to be helping. He could of course say yes and try and work out a way to escape by working within the system or he could go back to the cell with the rest of the prisoners and await his fate. From what he had seen, if they were being put up against Biomechs every day then their days were numbered.
“Okay, I’m interested. I don’t really care for the Confederacy one way or the other. It’s just an employer for me and not one I would have chosen given the choice.”
“Of course. I notice you were given the option of jail or service. If you are considering joining our enterprise we will need a demonstration of your loyalty, the same as for anybody else joining us. We expect and demand total loyalty and subservience to our authority for everyone. That goes from the lowliest of cleaners up through to our generals.”
“Generals?” said Spartan involuntarily.
“Why of course. You think what you have seen so far represents all of our resources? We haven’t even begun to unleash our forces. For now they are waiting, though people such as yourself could help shorten the length of any campaigns and ultimately save lives.”
Spartan couldn’t do it. His mind kept telling him to say yes, get out of the cell and try and work from the inside. The problem was that there were parts of the offer that appealed to him. The structure, the power and the resources to do something significant were a massive temptation. If he pushed he might even become a major commander who could mould and shape things in a way that might actually benefit people. The trouble was his gut told him he was lying to himself. He knew deep down that they would kill or enslave anybody opposed to their will. The relatively light hand of the Confederacy would be replaced by a totalitarian regime with strict laws, rules and religious decrees. As he considered the options the Governor sighed.
“I see you are unsure as to what you should do. I will take your lack of an immediate ‘no’ to be a ‘maybe’. You can return to your cell, I suggest you give this a good think over. Just don’t wait too long. Nobody has survived in the red group for more than two weeks and I think you’ll find some of your friends will be joining you,” he said with a dismissive smile.
The door slid open and in walked two of the guards, they looked like the ones that had brought him there but with the armour there was no way to be sure. He had just a few seconds before he was out of the room and in that brief moment he had just one question to ask.
“If I accept, can I bring others with me?”
“That is something we can discuss...if you decide we are your future. Just remember, you don’t have long.”
A hand on his shoulder pulled him to the door and before he could reply he was back in the corridor and making his way along the smooth surface to the sliding door. A light click behind them indicated the door to the room was now shut. Once they were three quarters the way to the door it hissed open to reveal another two guards who were standing alongside another prisoner. It wasn’t anybody he recognised, she was a petite woman in her mid thirties with fiery red hair that was now matted and messy. As she moved towards Spartan in the corridor she turned and looked at him.
“What do they want? Three of my friends just died in the mines. What is happening?” she cried her voice becoming hysterical.
Spartan didn’t know what to say and before he could speak they were pushed past each other and he was back inside the elevator. As the door shut behind him one of the guards leaned in towards his ear.
“Everybody joins in the end you know. It’s just a matter of time. Leave it too long and you’ll die in the mines or the arena. Your choice,” he said before straightening up.
Spartan looked up at the dark visor, the face only partially visible under the glass.
“You?”
The guard said nothing and it looked like he was going to ignore Spartan. The elevator moved gently and they made their way back to their starting position. No light or markers indicated where they were and that told Spartan that the elevators were either controlled via the suits or they were being monitored from another location. He looked around at the featureless area until he spotted a slightly different coloured tile on the wall. He moved his head to one side and noticed it had a glossier surface than the rest. It must have been a camera mount or mirrored glass as it was the only feature there. The elevator started to slow down, now just a few seconds from the destination.
“I used to be in one of the gangs back on Kerb. You know, we shifted electronics, weapons and shit. Next thing I know, we get busted by some kind of team and sent to a camp. They told me I could join or work in their factory ships.”
Spartan said nothing, surprised the man had spoken. The door hissed open to reveal the vast open space surrounded by the room-sized cells for each of the work gangs and groups. The first guard moved out and indicated for him to follow. As he moved the second guard leaned in and spoke quietly.
“This place is bullshit. They are making weapons for some kind of invasion. Get out!” he said in a whisper so that the other guard didn’t hear.
Spartan was dumbfounded and his look could have easily given the guard away for the fact that he then struck Spartan in the shoulder.
“I said get to your cell, animal!”
Spartan staggered a few feet. He was angry but more at himself than the pain in his shoulder. On one hand he was being offered the chance to join the enemy and on the other he was being warned away. The only honourable thing was to stay and die, hardly a choice. They moved on further until they reached the bars and doorway to the red quarter where the rest of his group were. As the door opened he noticed some were eating food, others were trying to sleep.
As Spartan stepped inside he realised his manacles were fitted but unlocked. He turned back around but the two guards looked the same and were staring directly at him.
“Remember what I said!” said the guard to the right and then they were gone.
As quickly as they had arrived Spartan found he was alone with the rest of the prisoners who were waiting and looking as though they wanted to hear what had happened. Misaki rushed over to him and lifted her manacled hands up so should could lifted them over his head.
“I thought they’d taken you away!” she cried, grabbing on to him hard.
Spartan was taken aback by her actions but quickly relaxed. After a few moments she loosened her grip though her arms were still around him and holding him in tightly. He was surprised at her actions as they barely knew each other and had only spoken for a matter of minutes. He put it down to the stress and anxiety of the situation.
“What did they want?”
Spartan lifted her hands, freeing himself and then slumped down to the wooden bench along the side. He hadn’t been away long but returning to this filthy part of the compound reminded him of how low they could all fall. The smell was disgusting and the toilets were at the far end and exposed to all. Spartan shook his head, arguing with himself.
“Spar
tan! Tell me!”
“They want us to join them, to help remove the Confederacy with their new system.”
“That’s it? Is that so bad?”
“I don’t know, Masaki. So far I haven’t seen much to be positive about. Anything would be better than this place though.”
Misaki looked at the rest of the prisoners and then back to him.
“When you were away a man arrived and told two of the men they had been selected for the re-education programme. They say a few people each week will be selected from the red group.”
“Why this group?”
“Can’t you see? Everybody here is the fittest and the strongest. Maybe they’re testing us with the fights and challenges to weed out the best for whatever they are planning. Some kind of elite organisation maybe?”
Spartan considered her comments and although he doubted there was any kind of fancy organisation waiting for them he did agree with the system of selection. By taking the strongest survivors they would be receiving a steady stream of strong, fit, intelligent and healthy people. Maybe they were training them as Zealot troopers or perhaps something more insidious like eugenics or reproduction.
“If you go, will you take me?”
He didn’t hear her, he suddenly felt very tired. Some of the lights started to cut out until the entire area was lit by just a small number of dull yellow lights. As the light faded so the electronic red lights of the night vision systems started to warm up. It might look dark but Spartan was certainly under no illusions he could be seen and probably heard at any time.
Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy Page 49
