Lords of War (Star Crusades: Mercenaries, Book 1), Page 3

  He clicked his fingers.

  “Now do it.”

  The man nodded and then continued ahead in the corridor. Colonel Black moved closer to him, but spoke in a quieter voice than that of the General so that nobody else could listen in. They were walking at a fast pace, and the sound of mechanical warriors fighting was getting louder and louder.

  "This facility, is it true what we’ve heard?”

  The man smiled as though he knew a great secret.

  "Colonel, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

  General Daniels heard what they were saying.

  “The engineering stations in T’Karan and Prometheus are already putting the newest military models into production. If only we'd had the designs in the war. CTC has some very original ideas, not including the big one, of course.”

  Daniels lifted an eyebrow at that part. He knew exactly what the man was talking about, but even in the present company, he kept quiet. They were now inside the area, a hallowed piece of ground in the heart of the ship. It was a hive of activity as all kinds of people moved about with computers and pieces of equipment. The General shook his head.

  “We are not here for the tech or the new project. We are here for the mission.”

  He looked up to the ceiling of the arena.

  “Victory in the war had its benefits, and the knowledge we’ve taken from this place is definitely one of them. I'd still like to know how CTC managed to wriggle their way in here. That took some serious wrangling. How you run this place with such a small Alliance garrison nearby still amazes me.”

  A large group of civilian engineers entered the arena and into position to watch from the other side. Their cultured overalls and lack of military discipline easily identified them. None bore the markings of the Alliance military, and that intrigued him. He could see symbols of CTC on some of them, along with the Special Weapons Division insignia.

  Can it be true? Is he really going to get this to work? After all that happened, how did he do it?

  He looked down to his shattered arm. The doctors and engineers had done an incredible job, but it had never felt quite the same. Advanced machinery, fused with synthetic bioengineering, had given him back full control, yet somehow he felt less than he was before. It made little sense to him because his capabilities had increased over time, due to the increased strength and power of his muscles, limbs, and even eyesight.

  Keep on track, the mission.

  Behind the civilians were two Jötnar, the large, three-metre tall synthetic creatures. They towered over the human and were a permanent reminder of the many legacies of the Biomech War. Both of them wore armour, but this was the cruder gear now produced for the civilian market on Hyperion, one of the worlds where they had settled deep inside Alliance territory. He could see the CTC insignia on their armoured plates.

  “Well, where is he? Time is short.”

  The man indicated to the reserved position at the front of the viewing area.

  “He will be here right after the test. He assures me this is part of why you are here.”

  General Daniels considered causing a fuss, but there was something about the attitude in the arena that intrigued him. There was a genuine aura of excitement, and right now he couldn’t tell if that was by accident, or if it had been arranged just for his benefit. He hadn’t even noticed the shape of a robotic fighting machine being dragged away by a very battered looking CES engineering suit. They were twice the height of a man, heavily constructed, and designed for military engineering. This model was stripped of armour and had certainly seen better days. The operator moved one step at a time, dragging the shattered robot away and out of sight.

  “Very well. Immediately after the test, and not a moment later. My time it limited as it is.”

  The two men in smart suits sat first while a third wearing the armour and uniform of Alliance Marine Corps waited at the end of the row. He was protected from head to toe in PDS Alpha armour, and at his side hung down an L52 Mark II carbine. The General had a pronounced limp, but he still easily slid across into his seat and waited for the event to begin. As General Daniels sat there, even though he’d made the trip, he could still not believe he’d actually travelled out this far, all to see just one man. He shook his head and looked around.

  The arena was vast and easily big enough to house a battle between hundreds. He already knew this entire place had been constructed for more nefarious means, but now, instead of slave warriors, soldiers, or pit fighters, the men and women of the Alliance had created a new spectacle; one where metal machines would do battle. Scores of personnel waited in the raised seated positions in silence.

  “Captain, are you sure he is here?” asked the General.

  The officer moved along the row and sat behind him.

  “Yes, General, he is here.”

  The man looked almost nervous at answering the question.

  “I have seen him.”

  He pointed to the machines.

  “It is time.”

  The four fighting machines paced around each other like metal sentinels, each testing their motors, actuators, and weapons. All were massive, at least four metres in height, bipedal, and protected by thick slabs of armour. There was a common design style that utilised short legs, a low centre of gravity, and a broad chest. They were painted different colours, and a mixture of patterns and shapes marking them out. The metal warriors had the look of heavy siege machines or engineering equipment, yet moved with surprising speed and grace.

  “Ready…” said a figure hidden out of sight.

  Each machine stopped until they were standing in a wide circle and facing inwards. One by one, they lowered their arms and stopped moving. It was now easier to see the dull blades running down the outer edges of their thick arms and their unusual collection of weapons. On the right were two machines, both painted in bright blue and slightly taller than their opponents. They carried the markings of the Alliance Marine Corps.

  “Vanguard MK III suits,” said the engineer, “We’ve been working on them for six years now. Lighter, stronger, and fully capable of extended combat operations; networked with the latest CTC tech and carrying modular weapon systems. A marine can live in one for days without extra food, water, or ammunition. One of our latest designs from the Prometheus Research Lab.”

  General Daniels looked at the machines and smiled. He’d heard these speeches from engineers a hundred times before. The reality of brochure specifications and actual combat and logistics were often two entirely different conversations.

  “And sleep?”

  The engineer nodded.

  “Of course. We’ve designed them so they can enter a partial rest state, but the external sensors and weapons can be placed on semi-autonomous mode.”

  The engineer had clearly missed the amused sound to his voice. He let it go and looked back to the machine. He’d seen Vanguards hundreds of times before. He’d even fought from inside the confines of their armour, but these were clearly improvements. Today they eschewed ranged weapons and carried pneumatic rams, instead of right arms and huge weighted club hammers in the other. Facing them was a yellow and a green machine, both in a much rougher state than the blue warriors. They were narrower in build, and most of their motor systems were hidden behind smooth plate sections.

  Odd, they look more like...

  “Five seconds…”

  The bright yellow machine swung its arms about and twisted at its chest, readying itself for the battle. Its paint was splintered and worn, but it moved with greater speed than the machines of the Marine Corps. Patches had been welded or bonded back where it had been damaged in the past, and a black emblem had been crudely scraped away on the upper shoulder. Its arms were thicker than the blue machines, and its fists were little more than large weighted chunks of metal. To its left was the green machine, equipped exactly the same save for its left arm. Instead of the giant fist, there was a shielded plate the size of a landing craft’s boarding ramp. Colo
nel Black leaned in close.

  “Those two are demonstrator models. I don’t know what for exactly.”

  The General nodded but said nothing. He was now actually curious to see what would happen. He was very familiar with the performance of the Vanguard armour, and these seemed upgrades rather than radical reworking of the technology. The other two machines were something else, and as they started to move, he realised why.

  They move like the Biomech machines.

  “Fight!”

  The two Marine Corps Vanguards went forward, the piston rams punching out multiple times as they did so. They moved at a fast walk, their bodies staying upright and level, while continually moving just centimetres as they lifted up onto their metal toes. The motor drives were easy to hear, but they were certainly more refined than the previous models.

  “Impressive, much more agile than production Vanguards,” said Colonel Black.

  General Daniels grunted in agreement.

  “Hardly a paradigm shift, though, is it?”

  The two challengers approached. At first there was little to choose from them, but then the area exploded into a display of speed and agility none of the officers had ever seen. The green machine broke into a run, sliding to a stop directly before the two Vanguards. Their piston weapons smashed away at the shield, each impact leaving a penetrating mark on the plating. The machine took the strikes while putting more pressure against the shield. All three were already caught up in the struggle.

  “What is that one doing?” Colonel Black asked.

  The second of the machines had moved off to the right. It was moving slowly and carefully watching the other fighting machines. It almost stopped, but still swayed and adjusted itself, much like a human waiting for something to happen.

  “I have no idea,” replied the General.

  He had leaned forward a little to watch more clearly. The green machine was faster, and no matter how many times the Vanguards hit it was easily able to absorb their attack. It pushed the shield out and took the strain on its arms. The pistons were forced back with each impact, but the movement absorbed a great deal of the force before they moved the shield back to the original position.

  One of the Vanguards tried to flank it, but the green warrior slipped back two paces and struck the manoeuvring Vanguard in the head with its shield. The heavy metal mantlet struck with a loud thud, and with speed the Vanguard could never hope to match. It lifted again, and might have come down, if it were not for the second Vanguard. Both moved in and proceeded to strike into the green machine; only one in a dozen impacts actually striking its armoured body.

  “The speed and agility of the green one is very interesting,” said General Daniels.

  He watched with interest as each attack was countered with subtle adjustments and movements, the kind of changes only a man with full control of every sense and muscle could accomplish. Angles that deflect or bounced off attacks, while the machine fought back to keep both in the fight. That was the point at which the yellow machine broke out into a run. This wasn’t the slow movement of a Marine Corps armoured suit; this was more like a man lurching away in a hundred-metre dash. One of the Vanguards spotted its approach, locked its stance, and called out to its comrade.

  “Left flank.”

  One was too busy fighting the green machine to change posture, but the other hunkered down and readied itself to beat off an assault.

  “Here is comes,” said the Colonel.

  The machines moved closer, but the green model took a single step back. With a quick twist, it brought the shield out to its side so that it became a diagonal ramp leading over its own body and then lifted it a metre from the ground.

  “No way!” muttered one of the civilians, “They cannot be serious?”

  The yellow machine jumped half onto the armour plate and then propelled over the tops of the two Vanguards, aided by the green machine pushing the shield up high in an aggressive shunt. The sound of talking engineers and excited personnel dropped as everybody in the area watched the machine fly through the air. To General Daniels it felt like hours, but when it hit the ground with a thundering crash, he came to his senses.

  “To me,” said the waiting Vanguard.

  The voice was rasping, and clearly a man under great pressure. Even so, it was too late to stop the yellow machine from hacking at the back of the Vanguard’s legs. The heavy metal hammer hit with a resounding thud. After the third impact, one of the leg joints snapped off, and the damaged Vanguard dropped to one knee. Even though it was immobilised, it continued beating off the attack from the yellow machine. General Daniels finally began to smile.

  “More like it. I’ve seen Vanguards come back from worse.”

  The Vanguard lifted up on its broken stump and stabbed away at its attackers. The second Vanguard tried to turn around to face the onslaught but was hit across the side by the metal shield from the green machine. It staggered and collapsed to the ground. The yellow machine jumped up, crashed down onto the fallen shape, and lifted its arms to attack.

  “Yield,” said the Vanguard.

  At the same time both limbs of the machine dropped back to the ground. The yellow fighting machine simply spun about, dropped down from the fallen Vanguard, and moved in on the damaged and hobbling Vanguard. The two met like a pair of bulls and crashed together in a loud impact. The yellow machine wrenched the weighted club from the Vanguard, and it tore off sending sparks in all directions. It leaned down to the torso and ripped open part of a panel to expose a marine inside.

  “Enough!” said the young woman.

  The green machine leapt over wreckage and landed alongside its comrade. The entire arena was silent as they watched the broken shapes of both sets of Vanguard armour. There was no sound between them, but they stopped at exactly the same time and turned in to face each other. The green machine lowered its arms, and to the audience’s horror, the yellow machine tore into it. One blow after another until it was on the floor pooling fluid and smoke.

  “What is this?” Colonel Black demanded.

  He was already on his feet as the front of the yellow machine began to open. He was busy looking at the smashed machine, hoping against hope that the driver had survived. Though he could not see how this could be possible. He moved around the wreckage and bent down to inspect the coloured fluid. There was something resembling bone fragments, and he bent down to touch them, only to find they were actually some type of ceramic layer.

  At the same time, a small group of technicians entered the arena with a large trolley. Atop this unit were a substantial control unit and a cylinder, perhaps two metres tall and a metre in diameter. The yellow machine stopped near the unit and looked towards the General. The petal shaped plates continued opening until the shape of a man could be seen inside. He pulled at straps and dropped out of the machine and to the ground. A light mist drifted out from the interior, and for a short moment the man was surrounded by the white cloud.

  “General Daniels,” said a familiar voice.

  The General was already on his feet and walking out into the arena. He stopped in front of the machine’s pilot and waited for a second for the mist to clear. The figure was that of a man, similar in height to him but broader at the chest. He wore CTC overalls, unkempt dark hair, and a short beard that just covered his chin and upper lip.

  “Spartan.”

  There was no look of pleasure on his face, just one of recognition of the Alliance’s most famous hero. General Daniels raised a questioning eyebrow and looked around at the arena.

  “Interesting place you’ve got here. Mind if I ask why you’re trashing Alliance property? Haven’t you had enough practice of that already?”

  Colonel Black moved to the General’s flank and looked at Spartan, assessing him from head to toe. He looked hard but could see little to show where the veteran warrior had received a replacement hand. If anything, Spartan looked leaner and tougher than at any time he could previously recall.

  “That
’s a low blow, General, even for you.”

  He looked serious, but Daniels was sure he could see something of that mischievous smile hidden under that beard.

  “If you must know, I’m testing this equipment,” said Spartan.

  The technicians activated the cylinder. It hissed open, revealing the form of a pale female humanoid inside. She pulled off a semi-transparent web that ran across her forehead and then stepped out alongside Spartan, shaking her head.

  “You said you wouldn’t do that again.”

  Her voice dripped with the accent of one of the Anicinàbe. She was of a similar height to Spartan, but her body was thin, perhaps too thin, and her skin semi-translucent. The men and women nearby looked like muscular monsters compared to her.

  “I know,” said Spartan, “It was...necessary.”

  The Anicinàbe sighed and then looked to their visitors.

  “I am Kanjana, daughter of Thayara.”

  General Daniels angled his head a little, trying to recall the name.

  “Thayara, as in the Anicinàbe female that sided with the Biomechs, and Spartan during his...episode?”

  He looked to Spartan for an answer. He gave him a barely discernible shrug.

  “Indeed. The same. Kanjana came here seven years ago to visit the site of her mother’s death. She is now one of our best engineers.”

  Kanjana ignored the others and concentrated on the General. Her black eyes made it hard to identify what she was thinking, but he could see the questions already forming on her face. She looked back to Spartan.

  “He carries the same scars as you.”

  Spartan sighed.

  “Inside and out.”

  Kanjana then turned her attention to Colonel Black. The younger man was still much older than her, but unlike the General or Spartan, he was untouched by injury, as far as she could tell.

  “You’re not here for the warrior programme, are you?”

  General Daniels looked to Colonel Black and gave him a nod. The officer reached down and pulled out a battered looking secpad, handing it to Spartan while giving Kanjana a slight smile. The small unit was the standard mobile communications and computer system used throughout the Alliance. There were many different models, but all were designed to access the Alliance Network at different security levels. The bearded man looked at the device, but didn’t immediately take it.