Anderson must have been made to expand this place, Teresa thought.
Back in the War, the enemy had carved out a number of secret research bases, right under the nose of the authorities. These had been the backbone of their efforts to strip organs and tissue from human captives to create Biomech monstrosities. It had been just the start of the horrors they would encounter, and she had never forgotten what she’d seen.
“Outer doors activating.”
The surface hangar hatch opened up and released a great cloud of dust into the air. These weren’t dust particles of dirt though; the surface of the planet burned hot, and the cloud of super-heated dust could have easily torn away the outer plating of any craft unfortunate to be close enough. The cloud obscured most of the multiple defense turrets fitted around the plated doors, but only a fool would try to bypass them without proper authorization.
“Just a few more seconds,” said the pilot. “Entering Alliance authorization now.”
The codes varied depending on the vessel, and this particular one was for the Alliance Navy. It took nearly thirty seconds for the code to be assessed and compared to the ship status and description. Even as they waited, the turret tracked the craft and aimed at the center of Mauler. It was obvious to all inside that they could be dead in a microsecond if the inhabitants of the base doubted their intentions.
“Prometheus Research Facility access granted.”
The Alliance Mauler was one of the most advanced and dependable vessels in the Alliance inventory, yet even a Mauler would be vulnerable to such a blast. It waited for a moment to let the entrance clear and used its reversed engines to maintain height. Pintle mounted lamps lit up the ground below the Mauler and showed nothing but rocks and marker lights. After what must have seemed like an age, the craft lowered itself gingerly toward the wide entrance and then moved inside. The thick doors slid into place behind them, and the craft went down into the vast tunnels that had been burned into the bedrock of the planet. It was one of the smaller access points to the base and one of the most heavily guarded.
Back again, she thought.
Prometheus looked just as Teresa remembered it. The world was hard, impenetrable, and pounded by heat and meteorites on a regular basis. From space it looked like a barren rock, but she knew better than most what lurked inside. The memories of her time on the planet filled her with an odd mixture of dread and nostalgia.
“Welcome to Prometheus,” the pilot announced.
Teresa was sure she could pick up the sarcasm in the man’s voice. There was little to like about the place, but it was hard to argue about the value of the site. They moved through the tunnel and into a massive landing area that she suspected could easily house a vessel the size of a heavy cruiser. The Mauler lowered itself until finally dropping down inside a ring of blue beacons. Within seconds of making contact, the doors hissed open and thick, warm air blasted inside. Teresa uncoupled herself, moved to the doorway, and looked out.
“Colonel,” said a familiar voice.
She moved onto the ramp and stepped down to stop in front of the tall T’Kari.
“T’Kron?”
He smiled at her and replied through his translators.
“I am here at the request of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”
General Rivers.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, “I thought you were with reinforcements for T’Karan?”
“That’s a good point, T’Kron. We were hit coming through the Spacebridge. Only one ship made it through.”
It took a moment for his translators to do their work, but once done, his expression changed from a relaxed smile to a tense look.
“That is bad news. My exiles are spread thin at the moment. We do not have the forces for T’Karan on our own.”
Teresa raised an eyebrow.
“You think the Biomechs will try and take the colonies in T’Karan?”
T’Kron nodded.
“Yes. Even with the Jötnar barracks on Luthien, it will be difficult. The Prophecy speaks of a great devourer that will swallow Helios and then every world. Helios has already put out the call, and all available ships are heading for its defense.”
Teresa had seen the reports, as well as the lists of ships from the many races that had been sent to bolster the world’s defenses. At first she had given little thought to the general strategy of the enemy, but as she listened to T’Kron, her mind began to explore other alternatives. He continued to speak before finally stopping and watching at her. She noticed him and apologized, looking at him sheepishly.
“I’m sorry. Where were you?”
T’Kron was unfazed by her lack of attention.
“You were thinking of the enemy? You have other ideas for them?”
Teresa was used to their speed of thought and well-trained and logical minds. Even so, she was still surprised to see that her thinking process was so transparent to them.
“Yes. I have concerns.”
T’Kron indicated for her to walk with him a little further along the vast hangar space.
“Tell me, please.”
Teresa looked at the ship being built and recalled the awful creatures and carnage that had occurred on this uncomfortably hot planet.
“The Biomechs. We know they are a hybrid race of biomechanical creatures that were treated almost as gods on their worlds.”
“Yes, that is true. Before they made contact with us, the Helions and the others, they ruled over many domains. Their experiments in biomechanics repulsed all of us though. Before our terrible war, we learned that all of them were hundreds, and some even thousands of years old.”
“So what is their end game?” asked Teresa.
T’Kron didn’t quite understand the terminology and had to check his own records before answering.
“We have never worried too much about this. Mere survival against the Machine Gods was enough.”
Teresa shook her head.
“No, we know they attempted to dominate your race, along with the others. There’s no reason to think they do not want to finish this. The question is, how?”
“I might have a few ideas about that.”
Teresa recognized the voice and turned about to see the gruff old figure of General Cornwallis, the Chief of Defense for the Alliance Marine Corps. She only met him briefly before, but his voice and upper class accent were hard to forget.
“General, what are you doing here?”
A number of other senior officers gathered around them while others continued on along the designated pathways to the central hub of the base. He spoke with a junior officer and sent him off on an errand before continuing to speak with her.
“General Rivers’ strategy is to split our forces, with half defending our key territories here and in T’Karan while and the remainder are heading to Helios. I’m here to assist Admiral Anderson in implementing this new plan.”
“Teresa Morato?” asked a brusque voice.
It could easily have been that of a large man, but when she twisted her head, she spotted the oversized shapes of a large group of Jötnar lurking about near a shuttle. One of them had broken away and was heading toward her.
“Olik?” she asked with surprise.
The older looking Jötnar approached close enough to reveal a hideous face with multiple cuts along one side of it. She was sure a number of the marks were new. The last time she’d seen him, he had been fully armored; he looked much smaller without all the metal attached to his body.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Olik moved to the side of the General and nodded rather than saluted, much to his annoyance.
“Colonel Morato, may I present your Jötnar platoon.”
He turned and bowed in as grand a manner as he could manage. A number of the Jötnar nearby saw him and struck their chests in mock salute.
“Are you sure you want them in your unit?” asked the General.
Teresa extended her hand to Olik, but as he reache
d for it, she slipped past and struck him in the cheek with a strong punch. The impact shook his head, and he spat out a tooth to the ground while she nursed her throbbing fist. General Cornwallis stepped back and lowered his hands, trying to calm things down.
“Colonel, what the hell are you doing?”
Olik began to laugh. As his voice became louder, so did that of the other Jötnar. Four more of them moved to greet her, but this time it was just the gabbing of arms or pulling each other in tightly. The General looked to T’Kron who gave him the most curious of smiles.
“They are an unusual race, are they not?”
The General shook his head and then walked away, only turning to say one last thing as he left.
“Colonel, we have an urgent meeting with the Admiral in fifteen minutes. I will see you there.”
With that, he wandered off, still shaking his head. T’Kron moved closer to the Jötnar and tilted his head slightly before introducing himself. Olik extended his hand but did no more than shake the Jötnar’s fist.
“T’Kron, I have heard much about you from my brothers. We have bled for each other on the battlefield. It is good to meet you.”
“And you, Olik, your kin are famed among my people. Your mercenaries have never failed a mission.”
The group moved on while Olik and Teresa discussed news of Hyperion. Their short walk took them far away from the landing platform and to the side of the massive space dock. Teresa couldn’t help but be impressed at the sight of the ship in the background that was being worked on. Finally, the entire group stopped to gaze at the gleaming metal. As far as she could tell, it was close to completion. T’Kron noticed her looking and nodded with interest.
“You like the ship?”
“It looks different to normal,” said Olik.
T’Kron pointed to the prow of the ship where a battery of tubes were fitted. Teresa looked at its outline but couldn’t place it. Most of it looked similar to a civilian liner, yet more storage segments were being fitted out with weapon mounts and additional sensor suites.
“Anderson told us about the Tamarisk, a civilian ship that was equipped with armor and hidden weapons.”
Teresa nodded. She was of course far more than a little acquainted with the idea. She had been part of the rescue mission led by Anderson, back when Spartan and General Rivers had been imprisoned on board the planet.
“Tamarisk, that was a good ship.”
Olik looked at the shape with fascination.
“I’ve seen this ship before. Isn’t it one of the ancient T’Kari transports?”
T’Kron seemed pleased.
“Yes. We have worked alongside Alliance engineers and technicians to create a new type of ship for use in the Alliance. These are medium size, high-speed transports that are quick and cheap to replicate.”
“With what purpose in mind?” Teresa inquired.
T’Kron looked at her and then pointed at the weapon mounts.
“Admiral Anderson proposed the specification over a year ago. They are a…well…a creative solution to a problem.”
Teresa knew immediately what the Admiral was doing, and also to what problem T’Kron was referring. The President had little interest in raising taxes to build more ships or expanding the fleet. The cost of running the existing Heavy Strike Groups was already proving more than most colonies wanted to support, and if he pushed any harder, he would simply be forced out of office and replaced by whomever offered to lower public spending.
This is his solution.
T’Kron pointed back at the waiting vessels.
“These ships are designed to provide a civilian, as well as a military capability. By combining technology from your ships and ours, we’ve come up with something that is more than capable of defending themselves. They have a similar transport capacity to your old smaller troop transports and can carry over two hundred soldiers or equivalent cargo.”
Teresa seemed impressed at what he had to say so far. She started to speak but then put her hand over her mouth, as though stopping herself.
“What is it?” asked T’Kron.
“Well, do we need more transports? The Crusader class is already working just fine. I can see private industry wanting to hire these ships; I assume at a price that will benefit the Alliance?”
“Of course. These ships are very cheap. We will recoup our return in less than three years operation of each vessel.”
Teresa didn’t seem quite so impressed now that she knew more.
“They are not warships though, so what is the point?”
T’Kron walked off to the right of the ship so as to get a better view of the rear of the vessel. He indicated toward the large, yet sleek engine nacelles that were attached just a few meters from the hull itself.
“These ships cannot carry fighters, but they can transport two Avenger drones, with one in each of the flank nacelles. They are as fast and as heavily armed as a T’Kari cruiser, with a mixture of railguns and missiles that can be installed by dropping out the three cargo modules and replacing them with combat modules. This will free up warships and provide additional numbers in times of war.”
He lifted his secpad, one that was Alliance issue she noticed, and slid his hand across it.
“If you would check your workspace?”
Teresa looked at him and then remembered her own device. She pulled it out and examined the schematics that T’Kron had just sent her. The main image showed a top down view of the ship with a ladder type chassis fitted around three large square spaces.
“Those are the module spaces. It takes under three hours to change one of them. So far, we have cargo, troop, railgun, and missile modules. Each one is self-contained and quickly replaced here or at any configured Alliance base.”
Teresa tried to hide a smile, but Olik spotted it. To her surprise, he said nothing.
This was a smart move by Anderson. He plans to increase the size of the fleet through the back door. It is probably too little, too late though.
“When will it be ready?” she asked.
T’Kron looked confused.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when will the first of these ships be ready?”
T’Kron understood and did his best to hide the look of pride from his face.
“The Prometheus shipyards have been very busy, Colonel. This ship is number fifty-two, and one is coming off the assembly line every four days.”
Teresa did the math in her head and was shocked at the number.
“That’s ninety ships a year.”
“What are you calling them?” asked Olik.
T’Kron pointed to three large compartments being moved off to the other side of the massive hangar where a line of machines waited to work on them. It was a production line that made the warship lines look modest in comparison.
“They are called Liberty ships, and each one takes the name of a town or city in the Alliance.”
CHAPTER TWO
The Centauri Alliance experienced a seismic shift in both power and size following its adventures into the Nexus. The new colonies at Epsilon Eridani, Gliese 876, Procyon, and T’Karan increased resources at an exponential rate. Though the worlds of the Seven Star Systems were the least advanced of the known races, they were already becoming some of the most important. Colonists and private enterprise continued what the Alliance exploration fleets had started.
Rise and Fall of Interstellar Empires
The sterile surface of Earth looked nothing like Spartan had expected. Throughout his life he’d come across images, paintings, and stories about the lush surface rich oceans and mighty cities that marked the birthplace of humanity. It saddened him a little to think of what it must have been like before it was plundered and exploited. He didn’t have the numbers to hand, but he was certain the population had at one point exceeded ten billion. Now the population of Earth and Mars combined was less than sixty million.
What a waste of time.
The view from t
he triple-layered windows was out across a low valley. It had probably in the past been green, and fields with grasslands and forests. Now the surface was ashen, with dust, weed, and scrawny looking plants that somehow managed to survive in the mildly toxic environment. He looked down to where Khan and Lieutenant Jenkins waited.
"What was this place?"
Khan shrugged while Lieutenant Jenkins spoke with the other three Earthsec guards. Khan didn’t seem to like the look of any of the group of men, not even the Lieutenant.
"We're on one of the last military bases in what was Europe. We still use it as a transit point for the high orbit platforms."
"Europe?" asked Khan.
Spartan smiled and looked back out through the windows.
"Yeah, Europe. I've heard of the place. Way back, well before we sent the first ships to Alpha Centauri, this world was filled with countries. I think Europe was one of the oldest."
"You're close," said a stern voice.
Spartan looked down to see a captain in the same uniform as the other men. He looked at Spartan with unflinching eyes and no glimmer of a smile. Spartan had met so many men and women like him, and they always left him feeling a little cold. Of all officers, these were the type to send you on those missions with little chance of coming home. It was his words that surprised him most. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Was it a region he had visited or was it somebody he knew?
Marcus, yeah, it has to be.
Star Crusades Nexus: Book 06 - Call to Arms Page 2
