Slaves of Hyperion (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 6) (17 page)

The marine looked up to the General, half expecting him to order a retreat. Instead, the veteran commander simply shook his head and nodded in the direction of the sound. All that changed was that he reached down and pulled out his Marine Corps issue pistol and pulled back the slide.

“We’re ending this, now!”

The marine nodded, and with that the entire party continued on and towards the sounds of screaming and violence. General Rivers felt his pulse quickening and although he might hate to admit it, the thought of getting back into action made him feel alive again. It was only when he rounded the last bend to reach the double width access corridor, could he appreciate the carnage and violence the machines had caused. At least a dozen shredded bodies lay strewn about the floor. Heads and limbs had been torn off, and all that remained were three metal machines, like some monsters from ancient myth. Like mechanical spiders, the things were larger than a man but featured no discernible head. Their eight limbs were thicker than a man’s legs, yet more fully articulated and ended in scythe shaped toes. At the sight of the marines and Pontus, they stopped and froze completely as if they had been switched off. The nearest of them was bathed in red blood, presumably one of its many victims.

“Let me leave, and they will come with me. Resist, and they will carry on their fine work aboard your ship. Your choice, General.”

At the last words from Pontus, the three machines lifted up four of their eight legs and extended their razor sharp talons towards the General and his men.

“What the hell are these things?” cried one his men only to be berated by Captain Carlos. He leaned in towards the General.

“Sir, what do you want us to do?” he asked.

General Rivers looked to Pontus and then the blood splattered machines that waited for their order to continue on with their violent rampage. What he wanted to do was to lift his pistol and blast the things apart. His gut instinct reminded him of the failures on their ship and the hundreds of men and woman that had already died. He lifted his pistol and pointed it to the forehead of Pontus. The man looked back, and his expression changed from surprise to amusement. Pontus could see the General was torn between what he should do, and either through malice or just simple amusement, he decided to play one final card.

“Oh, one last thing General. Either you or your Captain will accompany me to the surface. Now, release me!”

General Rivers glared at the man, his right hand twitching with desire to blast the hated enemy. The machines nearby moved towards the marines. It was very slow, almost creepy in nature, but they were drawing the confrontation to a head.

“You have sixty seconds to make your decision, General. Or my metal friends here will send a coded signal to our ground base to use our weapon against your pitiful little fleet.
 

The young engineer from the CIC spoke into his left ear.

“Sir, before I left, we detected additional signatures from the planet that matched the last weapon impact. It is likely they can do it again.”

That wasn’t the news he wanted to hear. Now he was stuck in a small space with a dozen armed marines, three robotic machines, and a psychotic terrorist facing him. Sparks from one of the malfunctioning display terminals on the wall snapped him out of it. With just seconds remaining, he needed to make a decision.

Do I let him this bastard go and let him take me with him? Or do I end this now, and put a bullet in his skull?

He looked at Pontus and tried to work out if the man was bluffing? Could he trust this man to keep his word, and was he prepared to die? The more he looked into the man’s face the more he knew this man was happy to die. It might even be what he really wanted.

Bastard!

* * *

Spartan was in the greatest battle of his life. The area was more than a bit like that of a professional fighting ring, and its walls seemed to be carved out of solid rock. The only light came in through a narrow hole in the distant roof, bathing the floor in a pale blue sheen. A dozen bodies lay around him, and yet four more Biomech gladiators stepped in for him to fight. It seemed nothing he did would stop the unrelenting hordes of enemies.

“Die!” he roared and rushed forward to the nearest creature.

In his right hand he carried a great axe, and in his left a small metal buckler. He reached the first and smashed its weapon out of the way to leave the creature’s head exposed. In a quick movement, he twisted his hip and brought down the axe with such force that the monster exploded in blood and gore that drenched him from head to toe. He pulled the weapon from its body to reveal nothing but a pool of blood and gore. A loud roar and buzz made look up to see a great black shape rushing for him. It made a terrible buzzing sound and stopped him in his tracks. He shook his head and shouted only for his voice to seem weak and muffled. He opened his eyes to the sight of the flashing light, and the buzzer on his video comms unit droning continually. For the briefest of moment, Spartan almost struck it with his fist.

 
He’d been in the middle of a dream, a violent reimagining of one of his gladiatorial contests back from before he had been a marine. The tone was loud, and the slowly increasing internal lights made him lift his hand to his face.

What the hell is going on now? Somebody forgot a meeting appointment?

He looked to his left and could see the blinking unit next to his bed. A bright red light flashed several times a second to remind him somebody wished to speak. He slid over the bed and lowered his feet to the floor. The coldness made him jump as shivers ran up through his muscles.

Here we go again.

Spartan tapped the button, and the black, featureless face of the unit changed to that of a naval officer. He rubbed his tired eyes and tried to focus.

“Lieutenant, Admiral Churchill here. I need you in the Defence Committee room in fifteen minutes. We have a major situation developing.”

Spartan shook his head, partly out of confusion and also in surprise. He was after all merely a low ranking officer. Strategy and operational planning were not something he was ever involved in. His brain went into overdrive as he considered the kind of problems that could occur on Terra Nova that might require his special skills. Perhaps somebody had been kidnapped, or a terrorist was threatening to blow up a building?

“What is it, Sir?” he asked, his voice still dreary.

“Not over the official channel. Fifteen minutes, Spartan, and don’t be late. This is important!”

The signal cut out completely, leaving Spartan alone in his room and wondering what was going on. He looked about, noting it was still dark.

The time?

A quick glance to the clock on the wall showed it was only just past three o’clock in the morning. That might explain the dull ringing in his head. It was certainly more likely than the fact he’d taken a mace impact to the jaw while fighting in the arena. He slid out of bed and to the bathroom to get ready. After starting to wash his face, his brain started to wake up, and the gravity of what the Admiral had said worried him. He wiped his face and grabbed his combat fatigues and gear without even thinking. It took less than two minutes for him to leave the room and make his way to the elevators. Inside, a soldier from the Terra Nova Guards saluted. The decision may have been made to scrap the Army in its entirety, yet this one paradox remained in the capital.

“Where to, Sir?” asked the man.

“Defence Committee,” he replied, much to the surprise of the soldier.

He paused, but upon seeing Spartan’s expression, turned and pressed a button. It was a fast device and took him below the ground a substantial distance before slowing to a halt. The doors hissed open to reveal the main foyer and a number of high-ranking officials from the Navy and Marine Corps. There were also a significant number of politicians, but he recognised none of them. He stepped forward only to find Khan step from out of the crowd.

“Spartan, what’s going on here?” he asked.

Spartan couldn’t work out what was more surprising. The fact that he had been called to such an important meeting, or that Khan had also been brought there. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“Beats me, come on, let’s get in there, looks like they are starting.”

They moved along with the others into the committee room, a place much like the room he had been in to look at ship designs. When they were all inside, the door shut and a high-pitched squeal reverberated through the room. Khan winced at the sound.

“What’s that for?”

“Sensor sweeper, checking for bugs I would think.”

The audience of no more than thirty people quietened down as Defence Secretary Howalt Sones
stood up to speak. Spartan recognised him from the Senate’s debates concerning the future of the Alliance military. His face was grave, and Spartan’s stomach lurched at the feeling he was about to hear something very bad.

“Thank you for all coming so quickly. I will get directly to the point. A situation is brewing in the Hyperion Sector.”

He pressed a button, and the centre of the room lit up with a model of the planet and its moons. Spartan’s pulse, on the other hand, had already increased significantly. Teresa was on board the Santa Maria, and their mission was in that part of space as well.

Please tell me nothing has happened to her.

“I have important news concerning the recent deployment of the Hyperion Taskforce. This powerful group of ships and marines was sent to investigate the disappearance of the civilian liner, Atlantic Star. As you are undoubtedly aware, the force is substantial and consists of five capital ships, including four cruisers and the marine heavy transport ANS Santa Maria. As well as thousands of crew, these ships are carrying three full companies of marines plus a single ASOG. It is much more than a simple reconnaissance mission. They are operating under the command of General Rivers, a man whose reputation is known by you all. They have the ships, equipment and troops to search, investigate and if necessary, destroy any Zealot presence.”

 
The model changed to one of the taskforce. The cruisers were substantial, but it was the bulk of the heavy transport that took up most of the space. A transport was a bit of a misnomer, as she was more an amphibious assault ship with the troops and firepower to get large numbers of warriors into and out of action in a short time.
Defence Secretary Howalt Sones paused as though for effect and switched off the unit.

“As of fifty-two minutes ago, we have lost contact with the taskforce. The last messages received were that the force had spotted a small lifeboat. Less than a minute later, the signals from all five ships vanished. Navy engineers have already confirmed this cannot be caused by the destruction of one of the ships. Even with just seconds left our vessels eject black boxes and transmit distress signals. Something out there blocked their signals completely, and it has stayed that way.”

Spartan almost vomited at the news. Hyperion was almost two weeks away using a ship with sufficient power and waiting at full readiness. Anything could have happened to them by now, and there was nothing that could be done for days. He lifted his hand to speak, but the
Defence Secretary continued speaking.

“Our top scientists are working on this, but so far the list of options I have been given range from one of the many solar storms that can lash Hyperion through to sabotage, engine powerplant failure or mutiny. We will continue to monitor the situation, and I will inform you as and when the situation changes.”

Spartan stood up, no longer willing to wait on protocol.

“Sir, there are thousands of men and women out there, we cannot just sit and…”

The Defence Secretary lifted his hands and spoke over him, using the volume of the sound amplification to drown him out.

“I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant, as does every man and woman here. I have convened an emergency meeting of the Senate to take place in six hours. In the meantime, I suggest you assist Admiral Churchill in his efforts to identify the possible solutions to this problem.”

Spartan looked over to the Admiral and could see him looking right back, shaking his head slowly. He cast his head to the right as if indicating he wanted Spartan to look at something he was hiding. Then Spartan worked it out.

I see, he wants me to meet him, probably right after this meeting.

* * *

Captain George Cornwall couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was already slumped into his chair, but the news that the General had been taken from the ship was almost impossible to believe. Just one hour earlier, the ship had been fine, and the only anomaly was the lifeboat moving towards them. Now they were trapped in orbit by the demands of a madman, a man that had an important hostage and a weapon capable of both disabling and destroying any vessel under his command. He sighed and looked around his CIC. All systems were now back online as well as the secondary powerplants.