Teresa looked over to Sergeant Lovett and could see his face tightening up already. He saw her looking and did his best to smile back. She turned back to the General to see a three-dimensional model projected to his side, showing the planet. It looked much like Earth from space but slightly greener and with far less definition to the large land masses.
“Hyperion is a large forest world. It has higher gravity than you’re used to and a thicker atmosphere. You will need breathing gear and lighter loads than normal. It is a world richly abundant with plant life and contains an almost impenetrable atmosphere, thicker than any other inhabited planet in the Alliance. There is a good possibility we will need to send drones to the moons but no immediate requirement to land ground forces. There is also a strong likelihood we might need to send units to the moons around us.”
The large number of moons flashed on the moving model, drawing attention to them.
“You have all been trained to operate on low or zero-g objects, so keep it in mind. As for Hyperion, well, it is a mist-covered pea soup of a planet. Comms are difficult, and orbital scanning is nigh on impossible. If we want to scout the planet, we will need to drop recon birds into the lower atmosphere.”
The model changed to the layout of the ship and the complement of marines on board.
“First and Second Company will prepare for planet fall within the next hour. Third Company and the Engineers will be held in reserve. Any questions?”
Teresa didn’t bother looking around and simply thrust her hand up. The General nodded in her direction.
“Sir. What are we expecting to find?” she asked.
General Rivers nodded and tapped several buttons to zoom in to the planet’s surface.
“That is a dammed good question. In short, we have no idea. Maybe nothing. Alternatively, we could end up with a Zealot training facility, underground factories or simply a black market trading post. All we know is that Hyperion is the perfect place to hide something, and that we have no current trace of the ship.”
He paused and saw another hand lifted up. It was a short black marine from the Third Company.
“General. What about the planet itself? How much do we know?”
“Yes, Hyperion is infamous in folklore for its unusual atmosphere and climate. There are no known hostile life forms on the planet, but in the last hundred years traders and scientists have left invasive species. I have reports on seventeen seeding operations by Confed Bio-Teams to seed the oceans and some of the landmasses with a variety of non-destructive species. According to my report here, they should present no obstacle to our operation. In answer to your question, son, I don’t think there are any monsters down there!”
Laughter spread quickly through the hall, but he noticed at least some of it was nervous. The rumours of beasts on Hyperion were well documented and could be traced back to the first unmanned landers that explored parts of the planet. It was rich in life, but nothing had ever been confirmed to match some of the myths of the last generations. Hyperion had been named thus, due to being one of the closer planets to largest of the two stars, Alpha Centauri A, and showed as the brightest object in the sky of its close cousin Terra Nova. The system itself was a complex one that included the binary stars plus the large collection of thirteen planets spread between them.
General Rivers looked to his group of assembled officers and marines. He had given this kind of briefing many times before, but rarely had he found himself with so little to actually say. He’d never visited the planet and, and for some reason, he’d never wanted to although he couldn’t understand why.
Hyperion, what secrets are you keeping from me?
As he considered the planet below, he smiled to himself at the bizarre notion of naming the planet for Hyperion, the lord of light, and the Titan of the east. The reality was that the planet was a dark, wet and mist-covered world. The exact opposite of what its name suggested. The noise started to quieten, and he changed the display back to the view from orbit.
“We might not be assaulting a city or boarding a battleship, but this planet could easily swallow up an entire battalion. Remember, a group of skilled enemy terrorists managed to board a modern liner and destroyed her with the apparent loss of fifteen hundred souls. We have a job to do here, and I expect nothing but utmost professionalism from every single one of you.”
He was about to continue, but one of his aides approached and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
“General, the ship’s scanners are picking up something. Apparently, it is heading our way. The Captain wishes to see you in the CIC.”
General Rivers turned back to the assembled marines.
“Good hunting!” he said finally and then turned, and immediately making for the door. One of his more junior commanders marched from the side to take his place. In that brief moment, Sergeant Lovett stepped closer to Teresa, a look of hope in his eyes.
“What was that? Do you think they found something already?” he asked.
Teresa shrugged.
“I have no idea. Focus on your job, Lovett. If we can do anything for them, we will. Got that?”
He nodded slowly, but Teresa could see his mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts wandered to the planet below, and she imagined a dozen scenarios based on the terrors she had experienced through the War. The last image before she looked back to the commanding officer was of the dreaded Biomechs looming out of a mist-shrouded jungle. Her spine shivered at the very thought.
* * *
General Rivers marched into the CIC as quickly as he had left it. He moved directly to the centre of the room where the Captain was stood and busily discussing something with his executive officer. He spotted the General’s approached and turned to face him.
“Sorry for interrupting your briefing, General, but I thought you should see this.”
The video feed magnified the small vessel so that it stretched out to several metres in length. General Rivers marched to the main screen and examined the craft in detail. For a moment it looked as if he was ignoring the Captain. The rest of the CIC was buzzing with activity as the two-dozen men and women managed the ship, the automated drones and monitored the planet below.
The ship’s XO, Commander Petersburg, moved a dozen images of similar vessels up onto the adjacent display. General Rivers looked at him, but he was unfamiliar. He made it his job to know those that worked around him, but all he knew of the man was what he had read in the man’s dossier. Though experienced, the man had served on the Confederate Navy in Alpha Centauri and managed to avoid a single battle in the War. There was no suggestion he had deliberately avoided combat, it happened to many a good officer, but it was still a clear mark on his record. As far as General Rivers was concerned, the man was an extremely efficient career officer, and that could be just what the ship needed right now, a measure of direction and discipline.
“Captain, it’s a Centaur class lifeboat, and standard issue on most large civilian ships. Shall I use the tugs to bring it alongside us?”
General Rivers seemed intrigued by the vessel and moved even closer to examine the marking and scorch marks on the hull before finally turning to face the man.
“That’s no civilian ship. I’ve seen the same craft before but not in this sector.”
Captain Cornwall moved to the General and looked back to the XO who simply shook his head in confusion. He turned back to the General who had seen the exchange between them.
“Where have you seen this?”
The General nodded. “You recall the fighting at the Titan Naval Station, right back at the start of the War?”
“Only by reputation, General, both myself and my XO were in Alpha Centauri at the time. We were going through our own problems at that point. Why? There would have been many craft like this one on almost any station or ship in the Confederacy.”
General Rivers moved the image to one side and brought up a series of grainy images from the epic battle around Prime. It had been one of the most violent in
cidents in the first year of the War when the main station had been overrun and held hostage by the Zealots. He moved through the images until coming to the Battleship CCS Victorious.
“The ship the Zealots captured? Didn’t Admiral Jarvis assist in crippling her?”
“Assist? No, she fought the Victorious in a long and bloody duel that resulted in her destruction. What I’m more interested in right now though is this.”
The image changed to a different shot of the battleship as she was wracked with hundreds of flashes and sparks. They were the obvious signs of the death throes of a ship. He enlarged a shape near the stern of the ship to show a small craft, and it looked identical to the small transport that was approaching them.
“That my friends isn’t a lifeboat, it’s a standard T9 armoured transport, the same kind of boat we use for transporting marines. Yes, it is based on the model used as a large civilian lifeboat, but you’ll notice the improved armour modifications here and here. Plus, look at the front. The armour has been roughly reinforced. This boat is used for transporting Biomechs, and I would put money on that lifeboat out there being used for the same job,” he added and pointed his hand off to the main screen.
The XO put the two sets of images next to each other. Side by side they shared a number of similarities, but it was clear they were not identical.
“Okay, what do you suggest?” asked the Captain.
“I know somebody here that’s got more experience with Biomechs than anybody else outside of Terra Nova. Get Sergeant Morato up here on the double.”
The XO moved his eyes to check with the Captain before walking away to use his communications gear. The Captain looked back at the live video feed of the distant boat.
“Okay, General, I assume you have a plan?”
General Rivers simply smiled back.
“A simple one. We drop a squad of the Alliance’s finest on her and search every corner.”
The Captain inhaled through his nose as he tried to imagine the interior of the craft. He’d seen images from the War but as yet had never encountered the enemy at first hand, only ever the Union ships.
“And if we find Biomechs?” he asked.
General Rivers seemed to relax a little. His shoulder dropped a fraction and his breathing slowed. He looked directly at the Captain with a look of satisfaction.
“Then we do what we always have done. We board her, draw our weapons and make them forget they ever thought about causing us harm.”
* * *
Five days had now passed on Terra Nova, and Spartan’s brain felt as if it would explode. Meetings with everybody from civil rights groups, city architects and a dozen different military officials had filled his schedule. The only good thing was that he’d been able to spend some time checking the news and border reports to start getting a better picture of how things were in the Alliance. It was clear the damage to most of the colonies was massive. A Mixture of war, piracy and mass population relocation had left many moons and worlds stripped bare. The casualty figures were in the millions, and thousands were still unaccounted for. With the collapse of Confederate control on Carthago, the planet had gone through its own short uprising that resulted in Union soldiers using atomics on three cities. Only Terra Nova seemed to have escaped the mass damage, but even there at least one in ten of the population had vanished.
“Spartan, what has changed?” asked Khan with an unusually serious tone.
He took a long gulp from the glass and rubbed his forehead.
“What do you mean?”
Khan pulled his head back as if confused at Spartan’s lack of understanding.
“Your vote, for the changes in military.”
“Oh, I see,” he replied, now understanding the question. He still found it intriguing that the Jötnar, a race of creatures with a sometimes childish curiosity, could be interested in administrative details. Spartan was convinced they were becoming more sophisticated with every passing month.
“Well, the vote passed easily, and the changes to the military will be phased in over three months. At the same time, they will start looking at replacement ships and equipment to cover our losses in the War.”
Khan nodded, showing he was following the conversation.
“Is this good?”
Spartan took another sip and considered the question.
Good point, my friend, is it good?
“Well, I agree with most of what they are trying to do. We definitely need to fix the problems in the military that made it so easy for us to fight each other. I’m not happy with the reductions in numbers or equipment, and I’m not really happy at the merger of the Army and Marines. There will be lots of arguments over this.”
This part Khan seemed to understand well.
“Yes, warriors are a proud people. Removing the Army will not be popular, I think.”
You’ve got that right, thought Spartan.
He recalled the arguments in the Senate just hours before the final vote. With one decision, the Confederate Army was disbanded. All militia units were officially struck off, even those with outstanding war records. In their place, a small number of part-time Marine Reserve units would be established. Each of these would train personnel with one session a month. Almost all the Regular Army units were to amalgamate with current Marine Corps units, and several extra units would be established. The end result was an enlarged Marine Corps with heavier equipment and more closely tied in with the Navy. Gone were the days of large Army formations stationed on planets. Local security was now the job of the local police and intelligence forces.
Don’t I have something scheduled for later?
His thinking about the Marine Corps and the fleet reminded him of the Admiral and his promise. He brought up his notes on his datapad device and found the last message about visiting the ship designers with the Admiral. He’d managed to put it off for over a week, but any longer and there would be repercussions.
How long have I got? He wondered before groaning upon seeing he had less than two hours. Damn, what can I add to a discussion on shipbuilding?
An image formed in his mind of the Santa Cruz, the ship he had probably spent the most harrowing of his time on. The more he thought about the ship, the less he could remember any details he thought might be of use. What could he add when it came to engines, armour, cabins or facilities? He sighed at the thought of being stuck in a room where he was forced to talk about such things. A noise distracted him, and it took a few seconds to realise it was the Jötnar sat opposite him talking.
“Spartan?” she asked, evidently not the first time.
“Uh, yes?” he replied.
“Spartan, what do you think then?” asked Osk.
Spartan turned to see her showing him an image of a heavily modified L48 rifle of the type Spartan had used extensively in the War. The grip and stock were much larger than normal and seemingly altered for use by the oversized hands of the Jötnar. He had to force himself not to laugh at the completely different levels of conversation between the juvenile and the mature Jötnar. But it gave him a thought, and the more he considered it, the more he realised how they changed over time. Then he noticed her looking at him, waiting patiently for his response on what must be an important issue to her. He looked at the weapon for a few seconds, leaned back and looked at her.
“Very nice, I’ve not seen this version before, and L48 if I’m not mistaken, but heavily modified. Who’s working on these weapons?”
Khan leaned over the counter with a large glass of a dark red liquid. He threw back a mouthful before speaking.
“Our own engineers,” he said with obvious pride.
Spartan raised an eyebrow, both impressed and surprised to hear the Jötnar had come on so far that not only did they understand the use of the equipment, but that they were now actively involved in the manufacture and modification of weapons.
“Jötnar engineers and Jötnar females. Things are changing for your people.”
“Indeed. Com
mander Anderson had negotiated much of the old site for our use. We’ve been very busy!” he replied and threw back half the contents of the glass.
Spartan’s mind was rushing ahead as he imagined hundreds, perhaps thousands of these creatures, working away in the hot underground environment of Prometheus. Anderson must have pushed hard to allow them to use the space, especially as large parts of the complex were being used to manufacture Alliance equipment up to the size of small ships.
“What about the Alliance shipyards and factories?” he asked.
Khan looked confused at the question.
“Jötnar are working in them as well.”
Spartan said nothing for a while as he sat there with the two Jötnar. The situation on Prometheus was confusing to him. It seemed the Jötnar had been allotted space on the planet as well as equipment and facilities. Perhaps as part payment, they were working with Commander Anderson and his Alliance engineers. The thought of the facilities brought back the report he said he would look at. It had been days ago, and so far he’d tried to read it several times before going to sleep. Unfortunately, at almost eleven hundred pages, it was just too much to digest along with everything else he had to deal with. He opened it up and skimmed through the table of contents. There were columns of unintelligible technical points, but one caught his eye. It was ‘Biomech Internment Schedule’.
“Hey, Khan. What’s happening with the Biomech camps on Prometheus?”
Khan looked back to him with an expressionless look.
“The old ones are locked up. Young ones are being trained by other Jötnar.”
“Trained?” replied Spartan, now intrigued by the idea.
“Yes, trained. Some for warriors, others for work in factories, making food, helping Alliance build things.”
Spartan looked back to the report and read a little further. There were many tables of figures with most outlining the numbers of surviving Biomechs and their internment camps throughout the Alliance. Prometheus was the home to over ten thousand, but other sites were holding just as many. A quick scan of all the ships, stations and colonies brought him to a staggering figure. He looked back to Khan.
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 68
