“You’re right, Sergeant, my mistake,” he said, trying not to look at the crevice further ahead.
Even so, the more he tried to avoid it the more his eyes refused to leave. It was about a metre tall, but what set it apart from anything else in sight was that the upper part appeared to be man-made. The lines were straight, and there were carved portions at intervals. The Sergeant was still trying to work out if the young man was being sarcastic or not when his interest in the subject finally got the better of him.
“What is it?” asked the Sergeant.
Wictred moved a few more metres and thrust his oversized arm into the gap. The rest of the squad moved out and into position, watching in a mixture of interest and surprise.
“Wictred?” asked Jack, now worried that he seemed to have got his armoured forearm trapped inside the rock.
His friend groaned as he exerted himself, pulling hard at the rock. With a dull crump, the bottom part split and fell away to create an opening nearly two metres wide. Jack almost jumped forward, half expecting the entire thing to fall apart, but instead his friend did something even stranger. Wictred thrust his head inside before leaning back and looking at Jack and the Sergeant. He smiled in that wicked way that only his kind could.
“You’re gonna want to see this!” he laughed and stuck his head back inside the gap.
The Sergeant looked to Jack. He just shrugged and clambered over the rocks to reach Wictred and find out himself.
* * *
When Teresa arrived on the main observation deck of the Prometheus Seven Space Station, it looked like something from an old Wild West novel. A dozen marines stood at the flanks of Admiral Anderson, along with a handful of Alliance dignitaries. Facing them was the battered, scarred and fully armoured bulk of Gun and his small entourage of four Jötnar. As she entered the room, the Admiral saw her and sighed in relief.
“What’s going on, Admiral?” she demanded.
Gun lifted his arm and blocked the Admiral, reaching out to grab her. She ducked sideways and yanked his arm only for him to go limp and kick out at her legs. He managed to clip her, but not before she ripped out his blade from his belt and levelled it at his belly. He started laughing loudly at her.
“So, time with Spartan hasn’t slowed you down...” he leaned in closely, “yet!”
One of the marines made the display of camaraderie between her and the Jötnar as some kind of violence and lifted his weapon at Gun. One of his henchman, a slightly shorter juvenile Jötnar, smashed it aside and threw the man to the floor before stamping on his elbow, instantly snapping the bone like a dried out twig.
“Stop this!” cried out the Admiral with both hands in the air.
Gun looked similar to Khan, but his many scars and marks indicated he was one of the first of the Biomechs to be freed from the shackles of the Zealots’ control. In fact, he and a small group had never been mentally conditioned, and from his first meeting with Spartan, he’d fought for whomever he thought deserved his help. Teresa stood alongside him, facing off against the Admiral and his party. The statement was both simple and clear; Teresa wasn’t going to abandon the Jötnar.
“The only person stopping anybody is you, Anderson. I thought you were our ally? Our friend?” he said sternly.
Admiral Anderson pointed to the Rift, and the dozens of ships waiting to enter it and start their journey to the riches and prizes of New Charon and beyond. Most of the ships were civilian, along with a smattering of transports and the odd military escort.
“That Rift is taking us to a place that ten years ago was no more than a dot in the Orion Nebula. Now we have soldiers, miners, corporations and workers all heading out there to make their fortune. I have been given express orders that no paramilitary forces are to be granted access. Only Alliance forces have permission to enter with firearms.”
Gun snorted under his breath and looked over to Teresa. She shook her head.
“Anderson, you know we never travel unarmed. Our race is attacked openly by Alliance citizens on planets and on ships.”
The Admiral nodded as if well appreciating the problem.
“I know, Gun, trust me, I do. I have pushed the Defence Secretary to allow marine security units to accompany your transports if you still wish to travel. They can protect you from any possible dangers.”
Oh, crap, he’s done it now! Teresa thought.
One of the older looking Jötnar stepped towards the Admiral and opened his visor to reveal a hideous face with multiple cuts along one side of his face. He lifted his left hand and pointed to his injuries.
“I took these on the surface of Euryale, fighting for your people in the Uprising. My name is Olik, and I need no man or woman to defend me.”
He moved closer to Gun, placing his hand on his leader’s shoulder.
“Everything you said about this Anderson is wrong. You said he helped our people, our first females, and taught us engineering and industrial skills. Is this not the man?”
Gun grunted but said no more. Teresa looked back to the Admiral and noticed what seemed to almost be a smile on his face.
“Teresa, I understand your corporation has been busy in New Charon? Anything of note to report?”
Teresa seemed confused and shook her head slowly.
“No, nothing yet, why?”
Gun listened to them both, but he already recognised the scheming tone in the Admiral’s voice. He’d encountered it many times in the past, when it seemed like this one man was the only official that seemed to have even a moment’s thought or consideration for his people.
“Strange. I heard rumours that Alliance forces were spread thin and that more APS operators had been called for.”
He paused, but Teresa still hadn’t quite worked out what he was saying. For the first time, Gun reached the conclusion before she did.
“I think what the Admiral is trying to say is that you requested more people, and they have now arrived,” he said, pointing his hands at his small group.
Teresa looked to Gun, and a slow grin started to form on his face. She looked back to the Admiral who was doing his best to give nothing away.
“That’s right. Gun and his people have been deputised under the Private Military Contractors Bill. They are to provide area and ship-based security for non-military operations in New Charon.”
Admiral Anderson looked disappointed.
“I see. Well, then I have no legal grounds to stop you from your legitimate business. I will leave you to it.”
He turned, but Teresa caught a hint of a wink as he moved away, leaving just her and a group of bemused but happy-looking Jötnar. As soon as the door shut, Gun moved closer and brought his hands together with relish. He looked to the Rift and back to Teresa.
“You see. I knew Anderson wouldn’t let us down. Now, let’s get ready. I have three ships and a thousand Jötnar who are itching for some exploration. Do you have some work for us?”
Teresa nodded as she looked to the Rift.
“If the reports of the discoveries in New Charon are true, then everybody from Old Mars to Terra Nova will want in on the action. From today onwards, you and your ships are official APS Private Military Contractors.”
Olik looked at them both and scratched his head.
“APS Corporation? Does that mean we get paid?” he asked hopefully.
Gun punched him in the chest and knocked him back almost a full metre.
“No, Olik. It means I get paid, and then I pass some of it back to whoever does their job. Understood?”
Olik nodded glumly. Teresa indicated for him to come closer. He bent down so his head was the same height as hers. She leaned in and whispered in his ear.
“I see you’re running a tight ship here.”
He stood up straight and roared loudly, looking to his group.
“All we need is to find Spartan and Khan, and somebody to fight, and it will be like the old days.”
The Jötnar continued with their shouting and howling, but Ter
esa simply stared out into space and to the Rift. She knew that something unexpected had been found out there, and deep down her gut told her it wasn’t going to be good.
* * *
The squads of Alliance marines were now all spread out and busy examining their preselected targets while being closely monitored by General Rivers. He stayed near the shuttles and communications array, protected by his two squads of marines. It wasn’t that he was avoiding combat, quite the opposite in fact. He wanted to be ready the minute any of his people found something of note. In front of him were a number of devices that projected a three-dimensional map of the area, as well as each of the marines and their units. It provided him an improvised command and control site for his entire force. Information from the aborted landing seventy kilometres away by Colonel Daniels’ force had showed a number of trails, each of them heading towards the new LZ. They were linked somehow, and he intended on finding out how. Stood next to him were two officers, both watching a pair of displays intently. They showed a top down view of the moon as it whisked passed slowly.
“Lieutenant, how are the drones doing?”
The officer, a middle-aged officer with reddish hair looked over to him.
“General, we’re sixty seconds out from the Colonel’s LZ. I have three birds in the air, and they will be circling from seven hundred metres and up.”
General Rivers nodded and looked back to his own displays. He tapped the icons hovering over each of the squads to check on their status, but so far, only Jack’s squad had uncovered anything more than ruins and rocks.
“Sergeant Ajax, Sitrep?”
An image of the man’s face appeared on his system. It was being recorded directly from inside the man’s PDS suit and showed a man that had been exerting himself, yet he was completely calm and collected.
“General. We’re inside the structure located by the APS scouts. Proceeding inside.”
“Very well, exercise care inside. I don’t want any accidental discharges.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The image vanished, and General Rivers moved his hand over the three-dimensional terrain until reaching Spartan’s own team. They were a different colour to the others, yet each suit was broadcasting a clear IFF signal so that he could identify friend from foe. They had already covered more ground than any of the others but were now stationary. He tapped the icon above them to reveal the video feed of Spartan.
“Spartan, sitrep?”
The feed blurred for a second as Spartan turned his head. The video showed the team of Jötnar moving cautiously as though they expected some great beast to burst from the ground and attack them. Not that he could blame them; their own world of Hyperion was known to be one of the most dangerous places in the Alliance. Anybody venturing into the jungles with Jötnar guards, armour and weapons could expect to never return.
“General, we’ve reached what looks like a granite wall. It is covered in badly damaged glyphs and markings. Like this one, Sir,” Spartan explained, completely forgetting he was not in the military. Old habits died hard with him.
The image on the camera was clear and showed images of planets and machines. General Rivers definitely recognised the style, if not the content itself. Spartan looked over to his second-in-command.
“General, Khan is convinced the markings are similar in style to the material he saw inside the ruins with the tech expedition seven years back on Hyperion. There is a section to the right that appears weakened, and we’re planning on going in.”
The General looked at the images of the glyphs that Khan and Spartan were sending him. He was no expert, but they were clearly no accident. Somebody or something had carved them directly into the rock.
“I see, how do you want to proceed?”
The image changed so that it displayed Spartan’s point-of-view. Directly in front of him stood Khan and two other Jötnar. Each was carrying one of their glaives. The device was a common polearm weapon, consisting of a single-edged blade on the end of a pole; it was favoured by the Jötnar for its simplicity and intimidation factor in battle. The metalworking skills taught to them by Confederate, and then Alliance engineers, had allowed them to incorporate the hardest alloys with fine edges that were tough enough to break even the strongest stone.
“Uh, Spartan, What are you doing?” he asked curiously.
Khan heard his message on the Team channel and looked into Spartan’s visor and grinned. Spartan knew that Khan loved nothing more than violence and smashing things with tools and weapons, and the glaive was one of those tools that generally resulted in destruction.
“General, we are doing what we do best.” He then spun around and lifted the weapon above his head. Spartan laughed.
“I think we know what happens next, General.”
All three of the Jötnar smashed their weapons into the weakened section and tore open a space big enough for a Jötnar to enter. Before they could do any more damage, another part of the wall collapsed and with a great rumble, a chunk almost four metres tall collapsed to the right, leaving a gaping wound in the stone structure. Dust flooded out and covered the entire team.
“Talk to me, Spartan,” said General Rivers.
Spartan waited patiently until the dust cleared to finally reveal a large open room. Specks of light in the tall ceiling sent shafts of yellow to the ground and highlighted dark shapes along the floor.
“What the hell?” he said, stepping into the breach and inside the open space. The rest of the team followed him inside and pushed on forward. It was still poorly lit, and they were forced to activate their lamps. As each one came on, it illuminated yet another long row of shapes. Spartan approached the nearest, bending down to examine it closer.
“They look like beds,” said one of the Jötnar in surprise.
Spartan took a deep breath and brushed his armoured hand across the dust-covered shape below. Underneath, through coloured clothing, it showed the face of a woman. He almost fell over backwards, but Khan grabbed him as he lost his footing.
“Who are they?” asked the General over the comms system.
Spartan straightened up, took a deep breath and moved closer, pointing his lamp directly at his subject. The woman wore a dull red breastplate that was scored from a thermal impact of some kind. A symbol of a curved weapon, much like a scimitar, was barely visible directly in the centre. Her face was white, completely colourless. He moved his hand slowly and made contact, only to feel the hardness of her features.
“It’s a casing, not alive,” he sad quietly and looked up at the other shapes.
“What about them, are they the same?”
Khan was already checking the shape of a similarly dressed man.
“Same here. It’s like they have been turned into stone,” he said in wonder.
Spartan wasn’t convinced.
“Stone, or maybe these are just shells.”
He pushed his hand to the face of the woman, and the outer layer cracked open like old porcelain to reveal the bones of a long dead woman. Spartan took a step back and lifted his head. The lamp on his also armour lifted, following his gaze as he scanned through the massive hall.
“There must be hundreds of them in here, each of them lying down and protected by these fragile coverings.”
The other Jötnar spread out and checked the other bodies, but apart from physical size, they all followed the same pattern.
“General, they all have their armour and a pattern of a weapon. I’m sending you all the data now. I think we’re going to need a research team down here.”
“Understood. Can you see anything else?”
Spartan looked around again, but the wide-open space appeared to contain no more doorways, hatches or shafts. There was nothing but dust, rubble, the arched ceiling supports and the hundreds of encased bodies.
“Negative, General, this is it.”
Khan tried to lift one of the figures, but it crackled and splintered in his armoured forearms. He looked back to Spartan with a gu
ilty expression.
“They’ve been here a long time.”
Spartan nodded at him.
Yeah, I don’t doubt it. What I want to know is who the hell are they?
* * *
Jack took the lead with the marines following in a loose column. Their suit-mounted lamps filled the derelict structure with dull orange streaks that emphasised the rocky outcrops with hard shadows. Once a few metres inside, he was able to perform a full three hundred and sixty degree turn to examine the inside.
Impressive.
Though most of it was now in ruins, there had clearly been a number of substantial arches, most of which now lay in heaps on the ground. Only a third of the area was traversable, as the rest had fallen in to create what looked more like a ribbed tunnel than a large domed interior.
“Jack, what have you got?” asked General Rivers over the comms link. Although the commanding officer was able to watch a video feed from each person there, it was still difficult to gauge depth and dimensions from such a small and grainy image.
“It’s definitely man-made and old. Same kind of architectural structure as the stuff found on Hyperion, I’d say.”
The Sergeant of his marine squad pushed forward to stand alongside Jack. He looked directly at the man-made sections of the area so that General Rivers could get a good view.
“I think I should take over from here,” he said grimly.
Jack lifted his hands submissively.
“Sure, go ahead, I’m sure you’re familiar with this kind of site.”
The marine looked at him and moved ahead along the tunnel. He tapped the marine-wide audio band so that all the unit commanders could hear him.
“This is Sergeant Ajax. We’re moving into the tunnel. Will advise.”
“Understood, Sergeant, be careful down there,” came back the General.
Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1) Page 17
