Fires of Prometheus

by Michael G. Thomas

  “In the toilet?” she asked scornfully.

  “Hey, don’t blame the messenger! I guess they thought it would be more secure hidden somewhere you wouldn’t expect.”

  “They got that part right. I’m on my way, any other information?”

  She moved away from the lockers and pulled her body along by holding onto the handles along the walls. The crew area was surprisingly barren though, unlike the storage area that was loaded with all kinds of air sealed containers. She moved past one metal door until she rounded a corner and could see the entrance to the bridge. Counting along the wall she spotted the correct door.

  “Nothing yet, apparently this guy is ready to spill his guts though. By the time the Commander is done he won’t have any secrets!”

  “Good, these bottom feeders deserve everything they get!”

  Pushing out her right hand she held onto the railing with her left and twisted the wheel to open the door to the waste disposal area. As it swung open she thought it was the wrong place before realising she was looking at loose plastic drapes that she had to pull through to reach the inside.

  “Left, right, no…left,” she muttered to herself as she felt for the door. She quickly found it and swung open the door to reveal an entire panel of glowing lights.

  “Jackpot!”

  “I think the Commander is going to like this!”

  * * *

  The lights flickered and in one final flash the room changed from pitch black into harsh white light. As Spartan lifted his manacled hand to the light a group of the familiar armoured soldiers arrived and started to unlock the chains from the wall, taking the prisoners one at a time down the hall. As Spartan watched his thoughts returned to the idea of escaping. They must have arrived at their destination, these guards were not people he had seen before and they wore patches from some kind of private security company. The patch looked a bit like a snake but he was too far away to read the lettering. Another two people were taken away and that meant Spartan was next. As three guards approached he tensed up, readying himself for any opportunity he might find. Only one guard stepped forward though, the other two lowered their thermal shotgun and aimed them at his chest. The third moved forward with a metal rod about a metre long. Spartan tried to struggle but the chains gave him just a few centimetres movement.

  “Don’t struggle, we’re just attaching the rod!”

  It didn’t matter either way as the man aimed the rod at the collar around Spartan’s neck and pushed it into a notch that locked into place. As it joined together Spartan could feel it tighten around his neck, they were obviously taking no chances.

  “Good, now stay calm and come with us. If you struggle this will happen...”

  Spartan’s eyesight blurred for a moment before he felt a sizzling fire sensation. A series of pulsing muscle spasms ripped through his body and he felt as though his spine would snap from the involuntary movements.

  “The control rod will send the pulses into your spine, too much will cripple you. Understood?”

  Spartan, now barely able to stand properly said nothing, his lack of defiance gave them all the encouragement they needed. The man led the chained and collared Spartan out of the room to follow the line of prisoners and guards away from his previous prison. They moved past where earlier they had stolen the weapons and armour. The burn marks on the walls had been covered up and the door and locks looked as though they had been replaced with new ones of much sturdier construction. He looked in through the thickened glass window of the small barracks room before he felt pressure on his neck.

  “Move it!” shouted the man.

  Spartan stumbled forward and soon reached the turn where his small group had prepared for their rush into the next section where the cylinders were fitted. The thought of seeing the mysterious part of the ship placated him for a moment and in just seconds the long column of lumbering people wandered into the open area. Spartan choked with surprise as he witnessed the shocking display. As he stared with wide eyes they all slowed down due to the congestion. It gave him a moment to survey the scene before him.

  The first thing that was obvious was that the area had been cleaned up and repaired. No longer was there liquid, broken Plexiglas or the rubble of battle. The floor had been scrubbed and all the cylinders removed. In their place were a dozen of the shock troopers. Each of them stood to attention as if waiting for something. Unlike the ones he had fought before these were clothed and equipped in grapheme-based armour. The thin skin of the grapheme material was harder and stronger than steel and protected all the key body parts of the creatures without impeding their movement. Under the armour each of them wore a skin-tight suit of an unknown construction so that no skin was exposed. Their heads were all covered in a form of modified PDS helmet that had been expanded to fit the larger proportions of the monsters.

  “What the hell are those things?” shouted one of the prisoners.

  The man that had told Spartan about the storms and the ship’s shielding turned around to whisper to him.

  “I thought we’d stopped using mechanoids centuries ago?” he said before being struck in the back by one of the guards.

  It was true, Spartan had read a few accounts of the use of mechanical slave labour in the files on board the Santa Maria before his first action on Kronus. The idea of robotic machines that could move and carry out the same functions of humans had fascinated him. His interest wasn’t shared though and it was well known that their use had created resentment and hostility to mechanoids that took away the livelihood of citizens. It must have been a long time ago though, well before the Great War, perhaps even before the founding of the colonies in Proxima. The machine smashing holidays were still carried out at special festivals on some of the colonial worlds in much the same way as the piñata at children’s parties that were held by some families on Kerberos.

  The group started to move forward and for the first time Spartan was able to see the corridors that led away from the open space and into a loading area on the ship. The prisoners were all being lined up and Spartan was surprised to see more prisoners coming in similar columns from other parts of the ship. As he turned to look back towards the shock troopers he noticed the familiar shapes of General Rivers and Marcus in the group. Marcus nodded at spotting him but none of the three did anything to get the attention of the guards. Spartan was just happy to see that his comrades were still alive after their escape debacle. The nearest guard pushed Spartan to get his attention, presumably thinking the massive hulk of the shock troopers fascinated him.

  “Yeah, don’t worry, son. You’ll be really comfortable with the idea of those guys soon enough!” The guard started to laugh. It didn’t take long for several of the other armoured men to join in.

  The door at the side of the ship started to open, lifting up slowly to reveal a glass covered walkway that led inside an industrial looking complex. The open space was easily twenty metres wide and bore the faded marking of Pro-Gen, an old research company that had famously gone bust in a drug scandal about a decade earlier. It wasn’t much but it did confirm two things to Spartan. First, the company facility was based on the planet of Prometheus, as expected. Second, there was a link between the shock troopers and Prometheus, though whether it was down to their training or creation remained to be seen. Along both sides of the open area stood armed guards, each with the same insignia he had seen earlier. They were all armed with shotguns, carbines and in one case some kind of heavy glaive. From the darkness at the end of the walkway a group of men in suits approached. As they came closer Spartan noticed one man was being followed by another small group of guards, though these were carrying axes and cutlass type blades. Along with this group another of the shock troopers approached, this one carried a savage looking curved blade in one hand. It was almost as though they were back at the Siege of New Carlos though this time there were no marines and no battle.

  The men stopped a short distance from the prisoners and the guards following them fan
ned out to provide a continuous security line back into the complex. Something clicked on Spartan’s back and he found he could move more freely. Turning around he could see the guard with the rod had disconnected it from him so that only the manacles around his hands remained. He indicated for Spartan to step forward and onto the platform. As he did so many more of the prisoners stepped forward to join him. The man with his own guards seemed to be in charge. He lifted his hand, not that it was needed as the prisoners were already silent.

  “I am Governor Richards, welcome to my facility. On this station we accept criminal elements from all colonies whether they are Confederate, independent or private. Soon you will join others in the secure wing where you will assist in the engineering projects we are working on as part of your sentence. Any attempts to escape will be dealt with by exposure to the planetary surface. For those of you unfamiliar with Prometheus, you will last no longer than thirty seconds in the extreme heat. There is no escape from this facility, only death, or the end of your sentence. You will choose which comes first. The rules are simple, disregard them and the punishment will be severe.”

  He paused for a moment and scanned the prisoners before indicating to the guards to push them forwards.

  “Follow my men, they will escort you to your new home. Remember, do as you’re told and you will find us fair.” His was suddenly cut off. Two prisoners rushed forward along the platform and away from the ship. Spartan watched them move and for a second considered joining them, it was pointless though. They were running towards the enemy, not to safety. Before they even reached the first door the lone shock trooper blocked their path. Spartan knew they had no chance, it would take a whole marine squad or at least some heavy weapons to bring one down. As the first man staggered past it swung its left arm and struck him low in the body. It was as though the poor man had run headlong into a metal barrier. Before he had hit the ground the creature slashed at the second with its curved blade, the impact was fast and powerful and cut down through the man’s collar and down to his thigh. The bloodied ruins of the man dropped into a dead heap on the ground.

  “As I said. Break the rules and the punishment will be severe.” The Governor indicated to the guards to grab the surviving prisoner and take to one of the small sealed doorways that led to an airlock seal. Some of the prisoners started to fidget and there was an obvious feeling of heightened tension. Spartan wasn’t stupid though and it was obvious that any attempt to escape or to help this one man would end with him joining his fate.

  The guards moved him up to the doorway and hit the button to the side. The door slid up revealing an airlock loading station about ten metres long that led out towards another similar doorway. The man turned around and faced the prisoners. As he started to shout the door slid down, instantly locking him into the small room.

  “Now, if anybody else has the urge to break the rules you will suffer the exact same fate as this unfortunate individual. I never make threats at this facility, I only make promises.”

  He signalled the guards and without even pausing the first man hit the release button. The exterior door opened sending the poor man to the burning hot conditions on the surface of the planet. There was no breathable atmosphere and the heat started to burn him from the moment the door opened. The change in pressure blew him out so that he was ejected onto the burning hot surface. His clothes were on fire and his skin peeling away in just seconds. In less than a minute he was motionless and his body, still burning, sent shivers through the assembled prisoners. There was total silence in the open space and with the doors shut not a sound entered the building from the howling winds outside. Spartan glanced to his side, spotting the large, dark figure of Marcus watching the burnt husk of a man. To the casual eye he looked dispassionate but Spartan knew the man well by now and his rage was barely contained.

  The Governor turned away to walk along the open space to the open doors that led into the dark caverns of the base. As he reached them something bumped into Spartan. He turned around to find the mass of prisoners pushing forward, herded like cattle along the platform to follow the Governor. Along the sides and at the front the heavily armed guards kept a watchful eye over them. He hadn’t spotted it at first but as they moved through the doors a number of discreet domes protruded from the ceiling at irregular intervals. The Governor stood waiting between two of the domes about ten metres from the prisoners. He lifted his hand for them to stop.

  “These domes are here for all of our protection. They are part of the automated defence system in this facility and scan all entry and exit points. Any unauthorised access by prisoners or staff will be met by these...” He pointed at the domes.

  In perfect synchronisation a short barrel pushed out from the dome along with what looked like a single glowing red eye. The entire dome rotated so that the eye could view a complete 360° arc. Every few moments it stopped and the lens made an almost silent noise as it moved forwards to alter it focus, at least that is how it looked.

  “Intruder detected. Return to your holding area, you have five seconds before lethal force is authorised,” came an automated voice directly from the unit.

  The Governor pulled a small device from his pocket and pressed a button. The red light switched off and the unit retracted back inside the dome.

  “These units are everywhere on the site. If one tells you to move you had better do it fast. In the last eighty days we have had thirteen attempted escapes and one hostage taken. Every single person involved has been terminated by the sentry system. Listen to the Eye and do exactly as it tells you!”

  Satisfied that the prisoners had heard his message he beckoned for one of the guards to approach. He moved forward and clicked his feet smartly.

  “Sir.”

  “Take them to their quarters and introduce them to their duties.” The Governor promptly turned and disappeared off into the blackness.

  The guard cleared his throat before addressing the prisoners.

  “You will follow me to your wing, a lovely new structure built by the loving hands of your predecessors. Now...follow me!” He turned towards a narrow corridor to the right. As he moved forwards the lights flickered on to bathe the area in a bright white light.

  As Spartan moved forward there was only one thing on his mind. It wasn’t the quarters, their jobs or even the terrible fate that awaited them all. It was plain and simple, he was thinking of the trigger device held by the Governor.

  * * *

  Admiral Jarvis, the senior Confederate Commander in the Proxima System stepped carefully over the cables and tools that lay strewn across the floor. To her side stood the imposing figure of Lieutenant Colonel Blake, the Commander of the 5th Reconnaissance Battalion and the senior Marine Commander from the Santa Cruz. His ship had returned from Kerberos two weeks earlier and a large number of his marines were already on the station and assisting with the defences and getting the systems up and running. Admiral Jarvis had been on the moon of Kronus for over an hour now to survey the repair work on the Titan Naval Station and assess its readiness in case of further emergencies. As she walked through the station she was surprised to see a number of the weapon systems had been remounted and showed as live. Behind her and the Colonel were a small group of marines, each of them in their standard Personal Defence Suits (PDS) and armed with L48 rifles. They were covered from head to toe in the sealed tactical armour and were marching smartly behind her in a small column. They had been handpicked from the men and women of the Reconnaissance Battalion, the elite unit of the Marine Corps units currently in the System. Though they marched with precision they were by no means operating as just a ceremonial guard. Their weapons were all loaded and each one of them constantly checked their surroundings, looking for potential threats, including the ever-present problem of improvised explosives and booby traps. Their armour was painted in mottled grey urban camouflage and two of the marines wore heavily scarred and marked armour. It was a matter of pride to not cover up or repair damage, providing it di
dn’t affect the integrity of the suit. The Admiral stopped for a moment and surveyed the scene around her.

  “Colonel, I still can’t believe this station fell to the Zealots in the first place. We had ships, marines and weapons here, it should have never happened!”

  “You’re right, Admiral, it shouldn’t but the insurgents have managed to infiltrate our colonial forces from military bases through to command staff. Not only did they seize army compounds on the surface, they managed to take a battleship as well. They are better trained and motivated than any of us could have imagined.”

  “Perhaps, still, it shouldn’t be possible to get this far.”

  Multiple warships as well as the large military garrison with its formidable surface-based weapon systems had heavily protected the station. The design was in such a way that it should be able to hold off an entire capital ship on its own. With support ships and escorts it should have been impregnable to any organised force. The fact that lightly armed civilians attacked the station, successfully overrunning it for a matter of weeks, still astounded her.

  What was more incredible to her though was that since the battle, the crippled and almost totally destroyed station was now back in use. The last time she had seen it up close had been through the view screens on her ship as it was being torn apart by battle. The video displays had shown the fighting on the surface as the marines fought their way through the strong defences and heavy weapon emplacements. A number of marine landing craft had crashed and burned in that operation, one that had cost hundreds of lives on both sides.

  “We’ve come across over a dozen infiltrators in the last week. Some must have stayed hidden after the place was abandoned, the rest must have got here as stowaways. It’s cost us another nine men trying to clear them out.”