Sons of the Gods

by James Von Ohlen

  Armored vehicles fighting at long range, men fighting hand to hand, and ships firing at targets they couldn’t see both in space and on the seas passed his mind’s eye. The action was slowed to a crawl and notes scrolled by, detailing what exactly each unit was doing and the physics of the technology involved with each observed action.

  A highlight of the combat data streams was the capture of a UN prototype unit based on technology that had itself been captured from the Veldt Planetary Defense Forces. Several suits of combat armor and the weapons fielded along with them. Crude by Veldt standards, but still far more effective than standard UN units. Surprisingly, there had actually been a few small improvements. While not game changers, the suits were lethal enough that they would be dangerous to face on the battlefield, even with gear produced at the height of Veldt technological achievement.

  Several design points were highlighted as being worthy of further investigation. Veldt scientists suspected they could take the technology and improve on it in the endless cycle of progress.

  There was a very large data stream detailing the development and deployment of an anti-matter rifle by the UN. It was the one infantry weapon they had that could trump just about any other. The weapon came in varying sizes and served general purpose uses such as anti-infantry and anti-armor. Torsten began to lose interest as the physics of the weapon’s method of operation was being described and moved on.

  Further technical data flowed on the things he saw and that he found of interest. Though the data could be accessed at the speed of his thoughts, Torsten found that an hour or so had passed as he had concentrated on it. He shut the data streams off and turned back to his immediate surroundings.

  As he rifled through the contents of the footlocker, each individual item was outlined in his view through the clear lenses of the halo unit. A belt with a small black box on it came to life in the outline. Identified as a personal protection force field generator.

  Details followed stating that it had been intended as a form of protection akin to a bullet proof vest. The belt contained a computer unit that could track incoming projectiles such as bullets and some beam weapons and project a force field to intercept them, neutralizing the threat. The power was limited, but provided adequate protection against non-military level threats.

  A data stream suggested that such was unnecessary in pre-war Veldt based on crime statistics gathered over the last one hundred years in which they were available. Torsten figured it might come in handy later and laid it on the table next to his food. Personal effects of no real interest remained.

  Pictures of a man, presumably Mr. Hammer, and his family. A pocket knife with a message engraved on the blade. “Thanks Mikey. I won’t forget.” A few old books and a data slate loaded with a good sized library that might be useful for perusal later if he felt nostalgic. Otherwise any book he wanted could be haloed into his head for immediate digestion by Modi.

  Curious, he checked for data streams on Modi through the halo unit. None found, came the response. A suggested data stream titled “Hand to Hand Combat in Zero Gravity” popped up. Torsten dismissed it then searched for Modi again. “Advanced Lovemaking Techniques” popped up this time. A clear redirection based on the former user’s reading preferences. One eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. Maybe I’ll check that one out later, he thought.

  But there was no data on Modi or the Modi Collective. Something like that would have been difficult to keep a secret based purely on the number of high profile minds involved.

  He had no reason to suspect treachery or deception on her part, but only a fool would have blindly accepted everything he was told. And given the nature of the Modi collective, it wasn’t surprising that regular soldiers wouldn’t have access to data on her.

  On them he corrected himself. If what Vidar had said was true, she was the product of hundreds of minds working together.

  He continued looking through the room, opening the locker and finding a sidearm. Well preserved, he thought. For a relic. It was a slug thrower of old design, using a purely chemical propellant. The ammunition wasn’t even caseless. He turned it over in his hands. He couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship that had gone into its production. A .44 revolver, unknown manufacturer. Eight round cylinder, he noted with satisfaction. All loaded. He placed it on the table, along with the personal force field generator.

  As long as he was gathering old weapons, he might as well grab the knife too. He went back to the footlocker and picked the knife out, laying it next to the revolver. Looking through a few more rooms as he finished eating, Torsten found nothing else he could see an immediate use for. He finished his meal and pocketed the halo, force field projector, pistol, and knife.

  As he emerged from the officer’s barracks he found Ed talking to Modi. Both turned to him and smiled broadly.

  “What news?” Torsten asked.

  “We’ve just reactivated several of the facility’s power stations. Things will begin to get easier for all of us. We’ll be able to recharge the gateway faster for future use. And soon we’ll have access to a mechanic’s bay and the vehicles stored there. Armor, gunships, transport vehicles. It will be quite a bit of work to get them up and running and you’ll have to repair a lift to get them to the surface. But they will prove invaluable to our future efforts.” Modi spoke.

  “That’s good, but doesn’t really make me want to grin like an idiot. Is there something else?”

  “The gateway is ready.” Ed answered.

  ONCE ready and assembled, they simply walked through the gate. When it was activated, there appeared to be no immediate change. No black hole opened to swallow them and no opening in the air showing the other side of the gateway appeared. Just wavy air sitting in the circular frame. Like some heat source was on the ground. They had been told that how it would appear would largely be determined by the occipital lobe of the individual observer, but most would see the same thing.

  How they would return had been outlined by Modi. Once Torsten’s crew had killed Anhur and seized his battle station, the gateway would be reactivated. They would be unable to see the portal from their end with the naked eye, and so would have to rely on sensors to find it. It would lead them directly back to the room containing the gateway. They would then be able to begin loading equipment onto and off of the battle station. There had been nervous glances exchanged, but nothing said.

  As always, Torsten took the lead. His halo unit protested and advised against such actions, citing the high casualty rates of officers who led from the front lines. His breathing and heart rate increased and the suit suggested a mixture of combat drugs that could be injected to increase his efficiency. He looked them over and declined the injections. There was no way he wanted anything that might possibly cloud his thinking at a time like this.

  He activated his optical camouflage and clutched his rifle at the ready. Loaded and safety off. Advancing in a shooting stance and at slow pace. Modi had tried to give him a neural imprint of what passing through the gateway would be like, but she couldn’t find any. The last operatives to pass through had never returned and the data from the Spec Ops parties that had boarded enemy ships and seized them had been lost in an EM attack.

  In place of the data, Modi had tried to describe what would happen to the assembled team of six men.

  “You’ll walk into the wavy air and your surroundings will blur for a second as you pass through the wormhole. Then you’ll be at your destination, which should be a storage hangar on the UN battle station. The area should be wide open so we don’t put you halfway into a bulkhead and halfway out.” She had sounded cheerful, even a little happy as she had spoken to them. That was easier when you weren’t the one about to jump through an experimental wormhole and into a firefight with who knew what.

  Sure enough, his vision began to blur as he approached the plane of what appeared to be hot air rising form the ground. Thermal sensors showed the shifting mass of air to fluctuate wildly between absolute zero
and several hundred degrees. As he looked at it he hesitated for a second and Modi’s voice sounded in his head.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just a side effect of the distortion of space. You won’t feel any extremes of temperature as you pass through.” Musical tones reassured him. Alright then, time to sack up, he thought.

  The blurring turned everything into a gray soup and before he could blink he found himself in an unlit hangar. A steel box stretching in all directions. Optical sensors and an array of passive detectors showed him the room, mapping it out for him in his vision. No biological signatures, his suit reported to him. Atmosphere, but cold and artificial gravity at one earth standard. He quickly scanned, rifle still held to his shoulder and cleared all directions. He moved to a good covering position and waited a few seconds.

  Three more figures appeared, outlined in his vision and identified as friendlies. Names hung in the air next to them. Styg, Eric, and Ragnald. They moved professionally and quickly, clearing the area around them and moving to cover where Styg deployed his heat lance. A few seconds later Ed and Pier appeared. Pier was already brandishing the heavy heat lance he had been assigned to carry while his rifle was securely locked in place behind his shoulder.

  A blinking light in his field of vision alerted Torsten that he had a pre-recorded message waiting for him. He opened it and heard the voice of the God of Vengeance.

  “Our transmissions will be coded and targeted to your exact position at all times.” Vidar spoke to Torsten. “But we don’t want to risk prematurely alerting your prey. Direct communications will be held to a minimum. Do not broadcast beyond your unit unless absolutely necessary.” The silence afterward showed Torsten they would only speak to him if need be from now on.

  He ordered the men of his crew into position with hand signals and then activated the hivemind capability of the suits they wore. Modi had said she had made a few tweaks to the suits when they were being repaired by the nanobot treatment. Nothing immediately jumped out at Torsten as different, but perhaps things looked a little sharper. Movements felt a little easier. Maybe the halo was less intrusive. He would take her word for it.

  As one, the unit began advancing, navigating through the maze of stored supplies crowding the hangar. A vision of the warehouse turned refugee camp in Fort Pleasant passed through Torsten’s mind. Followed closely by the carnage that had taken place there. Not Anhur’s doing, but something he and his kind would pay for nonetheless.

  Several times they were forced to move in single file, each man holding his weapon at the ready with his right hand while placing his left hand on the left shoulder of the man in front of him. The hivemind negated the need for such tactics, but an extra layer of caution was unlikely to hurt.

  They reached a sliding door that would allow three men to pass through side by side and paused. Ed pulled the face off of the control panel and the nanocoating of his gauntlet flowed and reshaped itself to a data interface key sized correctly for UN units. A nice trick, he thought as the decryption units in his suit began searching for an access code.

  A few seconds later the door opened.

  The distantly familiar form of a bronze knight greeted them as it passed by the door, carrying a box. Scanners showed it was a sentry robot, designated UN security unit mark IV. Schematics passed by the vision of each man in the unit without interfering with what they were seeing. Each man aware of what was being communicated to him and overlaid on his visual data on some level other than conscious thought.

  The security unit stopped and rotated its torso towards them, likely drawn by the action of the door opening. Torsten leapt forward and slammed his elbow into the bronze knight’s head, trying to disable it before it could alert anyone to their presence while making minimal noise.

  The bronze knight fell against the wall and dropped the box it was carrying. Electronics scrap scattered over the floor as the robot attempted to push itself back to an upright position. On some level Torsten realized his attack may have been unnecessary as the bronze knight was unlikely to be able to detect them. Better safe than sorry though.

  The bronze knight reached for a weapon it carried, instantly highlighted in Torsten’s vision as a threat with a red outline. He pushed the machine back to the ground with a kick targeting its com-array. No need for it to bring friends to the fight. He then pinned it down with his foot, before ripping its arms off and then disabling it with a punch that shattered the CPU housed in its armored chest.

  Consulting predicted layouts of the battle station, the group of warriors assumed a loose formation and began advancing to the end of the hallway they found themselves in. Deliberate in their movements with rifles drawn and held at the ready. Some 150 meters and then there should be a flight of stairs. Up three floors then two more hallways to the bridge where they would likely find Anhur’s quarters.

  Once the War God was dead, they would be free to repurpose his battle station. It would become the first new asset of the Veldt Planetary Defense Forces in about a thousand years. A good place from which to launch a crusade to reunite all of Veldt.

  Part of Torsten couldn’t help but wonder, who would rule such a place? He had never seen himself in the role of king, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow the lead of machines whose perception might be warped by a programmed need for vengeance against an enemy that might be a thousand years dead.

  No matter, he concluded. There will always be men with a thirst for power who will be happy to take the reins. As a figurehead or otherwise. Such things could be sorted when the coming fighting was done.

  The hallway was silent and empty, despite the fact that they had just destroyed a sentry. They advanced quickly, reaching the stairs and climbing so that each man covered the man behind him and the last man took the position of tailgunner, watching for threats from behind. Up three flights of stairs, each step seeming to echo loudly through the stairwell.

  If they were unable to be seen approaching, they would definitely be heard by any sentry. Sound muffling units on each suit could make it extremely quiet, almost undetectable by the naked ear. But the echoing in the hallway couldn’t be countered. As they reached the top, they prepared to breach the door. Each man moved to his assigned position. Torsten counted down from five, each man counting along with him.

  As he reached two, sensors warned of external active scanning. He called a halt to the breaching and reviewed the warning and sensor data in depth. The scan had not come from within the battle station, but from somewhere outside. In the debris field.

  Not good.

  A fraction of a second later a repeating alarm blared to life, and the stairwell was lit by a dark red light. Torsten ordered men to cover the door ahead and the stairs behind. Optical sensors corrected for the change in visual light wavelength and the stairs appeared in their natural tones once more in the eyes of the men in Torsten’s crew.

  A few more seconds passed before an icon in Torsten’s view indicated he had received a coded burst transmission. He opened the message to hear Modi’s voice.

  “Torsten, there has been a complication. Something with a Coalition signature is moving into position to fire on Anhur’s battle station at close range. We can’t tell what the payload will be.”

  Oh. Shit.

  Torsten signaled Ed to breach the door immediately. Their time had suddenly become very short. The whole of the station trembled under some distant impact as Ed hammered the door down, shattering it with a single blow. Torsten leapt through the remains, followed closely by his crew, bristling with rifles at the ready.

  They emerged into a much wider room than they had anticipated, but it was the length Vidar had predicted. On one side, armored windows gave a view of Veldt below and swirling debris from the cloud of dead ships the station was hidden in. On the other side, sloped steel curved upwards towards the dome of the ceiling. Men scrambled to take up firing positions behind support struts.

  Movement trackers indicated a possible threat before Torsten could make out
the shape. Something small and on tracks like an old tank came around the corner at the other end of the large chamber and turned towards them. Sensors identified it as a variation of a sentry robot. Basically a large machine gun on tracks. It didn’t seem to notice them, but still took up a firing position that gave it a commanding view of the chamber. Nothing would be able to pass through the area without falling under its potentially lethal gaze.

  “Why is it doing that? Does it know we’re here?” Ed sent to Torsten. He sent back his thoughts. It seemed to be preparing to face a possible threat in this area, but if it already knew they were there, it would be firing on them.

  “What the fuck is that?” Eric sent, pointing out the window with one free hand. All looked to take in the sight. A large piece of debris, or at least something disguised as such, began moving away from the cloud of wreckage. Very deliberately aiming for their position. When it was no more than several hundred meters away, rockets embedded in it fired.

  Torsten’s crew began running back for the relative safety of the stairwell. Behind Ed, the last man through the opening, the viewing windows shattered. Debris sprayed in near them, storming through the chamber with large chunks of the armored windows. The bits and pieces ricocheted around the chamber for a second, then retraced their paths heading back out of the chamber and through the shattered windows with the flow of the atmosphere being sucked from the station and into the void.

  The artificial gravity held, but threatened to fail for a second. Giving a momentary nausea to several of the scouts. Combat suits suggested that anti-nausea drugs could be dispersed into bloodstreams. Torsten locked out the drug dispensing functions for the next sixty seconds to avoid any unwanted side effects of thousand year old drugs. He wished he had read the manual on zero gravity hand to hand combat after all. The data stream popped up, but he dismissed it.

  He quickly peaked around the edge of the doorframe that had just protected him from the impact of whatever it was that had just hit the battle station. Not waiting to process what he was seeing he pulled his head back. No need to make himself a target. In the next few beats of his heart, he concentrated on what he had just seen.