Machine Gods (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 2)

by Michael G. Thomas

  Platforms hidden from view, to activate and control a Spacebridge, that seems familiar, he thought, considering the Anomaly discovered in the middle of the Uprising. It had also been operating with similar platforms stationed around it.

  “I think you might be right,” he said. “Perhaps this Helios will provide the answers we need on constructing, maintaining, and managing our own Spacebridge Network.”

  From his position on the combined bridge and CIC, he could see the rest of the fleet assembled and waiting to go. ANS Victory was the assigned flagship of the force, for no reason other than she was the newest of the enlarged third tranche of Crusader class warships. Even more importantly, she was commanded by the redoubtable Captain Jane Parker, former executive officer of ANS Devastation, and hero of the battle for New Charon. ANS Crusader may have been the namesake of her class, but Victory was the most powerful ship in the fleet. It was an impressive force but not too massive. He counted the other craft, confirming in his head that all of them were present.

  It’s hardly the fleet we used at Euryale, but it should be more than enough.

  There were no great troop transports or battleships in this force. In fact, the most substantial warships were ANS Victory and the other five Crusader class warships. They were there to provide the muscle, as well as carry half a battalion of marines onboard each ship. They were not alone though; there were also the much smaller T’Kari vessels as well as the same number again of civilian transports. He was forced to remember the meeting he’d had with Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Rivers. The force was a token in numbers to both wave the flag and also demonstrate the strength of the Alliance. Any more vessels, and the expedition would look more like an invasion fleet.

  “Well, gentlemen, this is it. Are we ready?”

  Around him stood the highest ranking individuals in the fleet. As each of them nodded in agreement, he examined them carefully. There were many new faces, but some he recognized. There was Brigadier General Daniels, the recently promoted Marine officer in charge of the ground element of their force. Slightly younger than the Admiral, he was one of the most experienced military commanders in the expedition, and if he remembered correctly, an old rival and friend of Spartan.

  Spartan, he thought back to the old Marine officer. What are you up to, and where the hell did you go?

  Next to him waited Captain Jane Parker, the new commander of ANS Victory. As always, her cropped red hair made her stand out just as much as her pale blue eyes. Admiral Anderson wasn’t fooled, and he was well aware of her reputation aboard ANS Devastation. It was rumored that she ran a tight ship, with no room for arguments or negotiation. Anderson turned his attention to the space distortion as the Rift started to take form. It was unlike any he had seen before. It was a more a storm in space, as opposed to the almost mirrored glass effect seen on the stable Rifts used by the Alliance.

  They had better keep it stable.

  “Admiral, the T’Kari have activated the Rift, and it is clear for entry,” announced the ship’s XO.

  Admiral Anderson nodded but said nothing immediately. Unknown to the rest of the crew, he had been privy to one final briefing with the T’Kari scouts and the highest-level commanders in the Alliance military. He recalled the schematic they’d shown him of the T’Kari control mechanism for the Rift. They’d explained how each of the races had coded their own Spacebridges to Helios via unstable Spacebridges, a system that granted maximum security for each of them. Without the race specific control data, the Rift would destroy anything entering it. According to T’Kron, the codes were the most prized secret of their race, an heirloom that each of the races guarded with their lives.

  They’d better hope this thing is working then, he thought, imagining the carnage that would occur if his ship entered an unstable Rift.

  He’d traveled through the Spacebridges enough times now to know how much he disliked using them. There was always the doubt in his mind that something might go wrong, or that it might close down with him halfway through. Even so, he’d been one of those behind their development, and he couldn’t deny the benefits they’d given them all.

  “Can you put them on the main screen?” he asked, with a commanding tone to his voice.

  The main display running along one side of the room transformed into a forward view from the ship. Part of the bow was visible, and it formed a slightly curved frame from the space distortion itself. They all looked into the spherical shape and the wild patterns and shapes that flickered across its center.

  “Very well, proceed. Send in the scouts,” he ordered curtly.

  The officers in the CIC worked like a well-oiled machine, and in less than a minute, the two T’Kari ships moved toward the Rift. Admiral Anderson watched them carefully as they moved closer and closer until they finally reached the distortion.

  Here goes nothing.

  It all happened as if in slow motion, each of the craft touching the tear in space, and then vanishing in a brief flash of light. There were no noises, ripples, or shimmer from the Rift, just the emptiness that had been there before. Not that there would have been a notable effect from inside the ship out in space. Even so, Anderson was concerned. He looked at the rest of the force, and the final two T’Kari scout ships waiting in the center of the fleet. Nothing happened.

  “Uh, Admiral, we’re not getting a signal.”

  Anderson looked at Captain Parker.

  “What do you mean, ‘no signal’?”

  The Captain of the flagship appeared unfazed at his comments and pointed to the Rift.

  “A short burst transmission confirming their arrival is the last thing we received. Then silence.”

  “What about their status indicators and the beacons they took with them?”

  Captain Parker raised her shoulder and shrugged.

  “Nothing, Admiral. Either they are unable, or they are unwilling to respond.”

  Anderson felt a familiar chill running up his spine.

  No signal? What if something on the other side destroyed them? This Helios Gateway could be no less than a tunnel into the heart of a star.

  “Could they have traveled somewhere that could have destroyed their vessels?”

  Commander D'Vani, the Chief Engineer shook his head and answered for her.

  “No, Admiral. The signal we received was an automated response that was triggered upon arrival and after running a series of almost instant diagnostics. There is a partially damaged feed packet, but the computer is having a hard time with it.”

  Admiral Anderson shook his head angrily.

  Damned typical, he thought angrily as he started to pace. It was an old and annoying habit, yet he found it hard to think when simply standing still. Finally, he stopped and pointed to the communications officer.

  “Get me T’Kron!”

  The young officer wheeled about in her chair and motioned with her hands as she established a link with the waiting T’Kari ships. The images of their commander appeared.

  “Admiral,” T’Kron said through his translator unit.

  Anderson took a short breath and glanced back at the main screen and the Helios Gateway. The sound of voices from the officers in the CIC increased in volume as the situation turned from a holding pattern to one of possible danger. Alarms sounded at multiple stations, yet Admiral Anderson blocked them all out. They were something for the ship’s crew to concern themselves with. As he looked back to the communications screen, he did spot the weapons indicators that showed the warships weapon systems were being charged up as a matter of course. He closed his eyes briefly, took in a breath, and looked into the eyes of T’Kron.

  “We’ve lost contact with your scouts. Do you have anything that can help us?”

  T’Kron seemed unconcerned, but he did turn and speak with somebody in the background before answering his question.

  “No, Admiral. Something must be stopping their signal. They must be in trouble. We must send in the fleet to help them.”

  Admira
l Anderson shook his head once more, “No, T’Kron. Two scout ships is one thing. I cannot risks thousands of crew and marines on two scouts. I need more information before we send in more.”

  T’Kron tilted his head slightly to the side and spoke in his own tongue. The translators did nothing, and he could only assume he was speaking with his own people. He spoke in an agitated tone, and the shapes of two, perhaps three other T’Kari could be seen moving about. Voices in the CIC caught his ear, and he turned to look directly at the Captain of the ship.

  “Admiral, the T’Kari ships are breaking formation,” announced Captain Parker.

  “I think they’re heading for the Rift itself.”

  Anderson turned his attention to the main screen and watched as the two ships used their maneuvering engines to break formation. He brought down his fist on the nearest console unit. The heavy impact shocked the young ensign that was working nearby. He looked back at the communications screen and the face of T’Kron.

  “You need to maintain your position, T’Kron. If there is something that could risk the fleet on the other side, I need to know before I send in more ships.”

  Instead, the alien shook his head, a gesture he must have learned from his human contacts.

  “No, Admiral. My people are few, and these Exiles are my brothers. We have watched this place for generations. I will not leave them to their fates. Either I go after them, or they will be lost and abandoned by my people, and by yours. No, you can join me, or wait and see if we return.”

  He moved away from the display and concentrated on his own crew before returning for just a few seconds.

  “My Exiles are revered amongst the T’Kari. The consequences of leaving them to die alone could be…uh…problematic.” Then he was gone.

  Anderson was angry, yet with no way of forcing T’Kron to listen to him, he felt compelled to act. He turned his attention to his own forces that were waiting in a perfect stationary formation of warships. Strung out behind the Alliance ships was the slightly larger formation of transports and science vessels. The only movement to be seen was that of the two T’Kari ships breaking formation and being followed by two pairs of lightning space superiority fighters. Anderson looked at them, knowing that any decision he made would risk the lives of thousands of men and women. There was also the chance that leaving the T’Kari to go on alone would cause a long-term problem for the two peoples, and one that could make New Charon, or T’Karan as they called it, untenable.

  You idiot, T’Kron, if this causes casualties, I’ll have your head!

  With that last thought, he reached for the intercom unit and connected directly to the commanders of every single ship in the fleet.

  “This is Admiral Anderson; prepare to move through the Rift. All ships to battle stations.”

  Captain Parker looked confused. She spoke to her XO and then turned to Admiral Anderson.

  “You want us to go in? Without sending drones or scouts in first?” she asked.

  Anderson nodded slowly.

  “Yes, there is one thing worse than losing the T’Kari out here, and that is losing them because we refused to act. Do it.”

  The Captain moved from her position in the center of the room and nearer to the Admiral. Though slightly shorter, her presence was commanding, and she refused to back down, not yet.

  “Admiral, I must protest. We could be sending the entire fleet into a star. We must obtain more information first!”

  Admiral Anderson shook his head and beckoned for General Daniels to come away from the screen he was watching. The three of them stood in silence as more reports came in from the fleet.

  “I agree with the Captain. The fact that we’ve just lost contact with two T’Kari ships is information enough, is it not?”

  Captain Parker’s attention was on something else. She was watching the Rift on the mainscreen. It flickered and flashed as the two T’Kari ships made their final approach. She lifted her hand and pointed to the distortion.

  “We’re too late!”

  As if they had never been there, the two T’Kari ships vanished. Unlike the previous two ships, the transmissions continued to be sent and were displayed in small windows on the main screen. The three senior officers watched in interest as the feed cleared slightly to show a large dark object surrounded by a red color. Admiral Anderson grimaced at the sight.

  “Tell me that isn’t a star!”

  Then the image cleared up as quickly as it had arrived. The outer hull of the nearest T’Kari ship filled the screen. Admiral Anderson started to relax, that was until the ship moved away and revealed a vast open red star system filled with objects. The quality was still poor and digital interference left odd artifacts and tearing throughout the image. At first the large shape to the left looked like a celestial object, and just as he could make out the shape, the video feed froze and then vanished.

  “What the hell was that?” he snapped, “Bring it back!”

  The CIC burst into activity as the situation changed in a matter of seconds. The technical crew worked on the communications traffic while the rest did last minute adjustments to prepare for whatever might lie on the other side.

  “Crew to your stations!” barked the XO in a gruff voice. The sound echoed throughout the open space via the wall mounted public address system; it would be repeated throughout the entire vessel. “I want fighters in the air. All ships open your gun ports and prepare for battle,” he added.

  The image from the corrupted video feed returned to the mainscreen. It filled a third of the unit, yet drew the attention of anybody that looked upon it. It showed three T’Kari ships arrayed in a line and facing toward a large pentagonal shaped object. A bright line ran from this shape and intersected the T’Kari vessel. What caught all of them by surprise was that the T’Kari ship had been cut in two by whatever the line was.

  Gods! Anderson thought bitterly. When will this all end?

  He looked to the crew and noted they were concentrating on their jobs, all but him, Captain Parker, and General Daniels. What can I do?

  A corrupted video feed displayed on the main screen. It was T’Kron.

  “Admiral, we have encountered the Helions. We need your assistance, they are…”

  The image vanished and was replaced by static. Anderson closed his eyes and exhaled, fully knowing the ramification of his next words. He nodded toward Captain Parker and General Daniels.

  “We have no choice. We have to go forward!”

  Captain Parker looked at him and nodded slowly. She understood the difficult decision he had just made, but not even she could quite imagine exactly what they would find.

  Here we go, he thought, as the vessel shuddered slightly. It was the feeling provided by the main engines as they powered up. The crew was already strapped in, and two Navy officers beckoned to the commanders to take their place before the engines fully activated. Admiral Anderson needed no persuasion and moved to the left-hand side where he was helped into a side-facing seat. By the time General Daniels was in position, the engines were on full burn and the ship moving towards the Rift.

  “Admiral, this is the right decision. We have an obligation to the T’Kari on both sides of the Rift.”

  Anderson nodded.

  “Yes. It isn’t the T’Kari that worry me though,” he answered before Daniels could say any more.

  He looked about the CIC and at the men and women of the Alliance Navy, most of who had never known war; certainly not like the kind of struggles he and the General had experienced. He had watched ships explode after being struck by multiple nuclear warheads, had recoiled in horror as vessels were exploded by the colossal power of particle weapons. Even worse, he had seen the carnage at first hand when two capital ships had been forced to fight long duels with railguns that left hundreds dead or maimed.

  It’s my crew, he thought ruefully to himself. If we have to fight, then we’ll fight like Admiral Jarvis.

  “Admiral, thirty seconds!” called out Captain Parker.


  Anderson simply nodded; watching as the shape of the Rift loomed ever closer. In front of him a holographic model of the fleet appeared directly over the central table unit. It was positioned so that the commanders could monitor and coordinate the actions of multiple warships in military situation. The Rift flickered and flashed. The Admiral held his breath as ANS Victory, the flagship of the Alliance-T’Kari Helios Expedition moved through.

  So it begins.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Great Uprising went by many different names over the history of the Alliance. While technically a civil war, there were many colonies that managed to avoid the fighting entirely. To these people, the Uprising was a common term. Those more closely associated with the terrible bloodshed on Proxima Prime, Kerberos, Euryale, and Terra Nova referred to the period as the Civil War or the Proxima Emergency. The least remembered name was the Revolutionary War, a term only ever used by the few surviving members of the Echidna Union.

  Reports of the Proxima Emergency

  Jack still couldn’t believe they’d passed the final test and returned from their passing out parade. He’d been training for nearly a year, and now that the basic part of the process was over, the relief had drained almost all of his will from his body. An entire day had passed since then, and every single marine was looking forward to some R&R. Not Jack though. He’d just received news of a critical private video communication from his mother. That had been an hour ago, and he was still waiting for it to be vetted and cleared before he was allowed access to it.

  “Come on, Jack, it can’t be that bad, otherwise somebody would have been down here already,” suggested Wictred.

  Jack smiled back at his friend, but it did him no good. Not knowing was far worse than any bad news, and he was expecting the worst. He looked at the data file and checked the information stamp that all digital media was equipped with. He instantly recognized the signature of his mother, Teresa Morato, but also two other imprints that marked it as having been read before reaching him.