Read Battle for Proxima Online
Authors: Michael G. Thomas
“There is one other point, and this is likely to be contentious. As you will no doubt be aware, the enemy has been taking away our citizens, some of whom have been thrown into appalling conditions in the deep mines and factories of the enemy. The worst fate of all is the harvesting our citizens for years to obtain organs and biological material. The information obtained from the horrific camps and facilities on Prometheus is shocking. It confirms that the enemy have been creating their biomechanical slaves using our own citizens as the raw material. It would appear that they have multiple sites at different stages of production. Those on Prime have been modifying and adjusting complete bodies into violent creatures. The site on Prometheus was creating life forms with completely artificial bones and flesh, just using the brain and nervous system as a control unit. All are horrendous, but they leave us with a conundrum. Those Biomechs fighting against us are simply the enemy. They have been programmed and built to hate us. They will never stop, never surrender and show us no mercy. We will show them the same. There is another group, however. I would like to show you this footage from Prometheus.”
One of the secondary monitors changed to show a video feed from Prometheus, where a large hangar-type space filled the screen. In the open area were thousands of capsules lined up in columns. A dozen people walked around them, checking on their status. Every few seconds a series of blue sparks rattled along the ceiling and occasionally touching the sides of the tubes. General Rivers, in full dress uniform, took his place and pointed a stick at the display.
“These are the tanks, the place where the new breeds of Biomechs were being created on Prometheus. These models have only recently been discovered and they represent a marked change in design. Unlike the previous models, these are fully artificial Biomechs. Synthetic creatures if you will, the latest version that doesn’t require donor body parts. The brains are laboratory grown, along with the nervous system. These parts are created separately and then placed into the fabrication tube where over a period of weeks the rest of the creature is constructed. It is my understanding that this development only occurs on Prometheus, where there has been massive amounts of research and experimentation. From our assessments, over four thousands civilians have died in these experiments to streamline the process in manufacturing artificial life. The mind is programmed to the level of a human teenager and when they are hatched, for want of a better word, they are fully formed and ready to fight. I have seen and faced these creatures and can attest to their design and abilities. They are tough and one hundred percent loyal to their cause.”
He waited, knowing full well that his next comments would have to be very carefully worded.
“It is possible to remove the indoctrination part of their programing, so that when they are hatched they are essentially neutral, no different to you or I. They are no different, regarding problem solving or morality, than any man or woman. The first wave of the Biomechs has already been born and they have no programing other than their basic motor skills. There are another few thousand waiting to be hatched on Prometheus, and we have to decide what to do with them.”
Admiral Jarvis took over. She sensed the mood in the room was already changing.
“While the General was fighting for his life on Prometheus, a small group of these neutral Biomechs helped his team. Only one survived and it has proved completely loyal and dependable. After speaking with the command staff, and the civilian government in exile, it is our decision to allow these Biomechs the opportunity to redeem their name. Remember, these creatures are newly born and have committed no crime. The creature that helped our people has chosen his own name. This will make it clearer.”
She finished by pressing a button, altering the video feed of the tanks to a group of Biomechs stood waiting patiently. Each of them wore minimal armour, more clothing than metal, but it made them look more like warriors than bestial monsters. The group of five were similar in height, each roughly three metres tall and big in every direction. The one at the front looked to its side and then towards the camera pointed at him.
“I Ko’mandor Gun,” he said with a growl, lifting his right arm on which he still carried his multi-barrelled Gatling gun. He then turned to those stood next to him.
“These are my Jötnar brothers. We pledge service to Confederacy,” he said sternly.
The room erupted as the military personnel started chatting and shouting at the news. It was the first time many of them had heard a Biomech make a sound and the first time any had heard one speak. The ramifications of these abilities were only just starting to dawn on them.
“I know this will be hard for some of you to understand. We have Biomechs in our midst who speak to us and offer friendship. The Confederacy has been weakened, almost crippled, and the war has cost us dearly. Ko’mandor Gun has already proved his worth. We owe the capture of Prometheus to him and the sacrifices of his people. We have agreed to a deal with the Jötnar, their preferred name. In exchange for fighting alongside us, we will grant them a colony and citizenship in the new Confederacy.”
The room once again exploded into shouting and it became impossible to hear the sound from the monitors. Marcus pulled himself close to Spartan.
“I told you they would never go for it. Biomechs fighting alongside us! Most people will see this as a betrayal.”
“Then it is our job to show them they are wrong,” replied Spartan.
Lieutenant Colonel Blake lifted his hand for quiet.
“Please control yourselves!” he snapped, the room quickly fell silent. On the screen, the General was talking but they had already missed the first part of whatever he had been saying.
“...will be a hard campaign to clear every single colony of the taint of the Union. We will not just be fighting to defeat military forces in our homes, we will force them out forever. From the moment we start combat operations, this offensive will not stop until victory is ours. The Jötnar have been formed into two new combat battalions and have been placed under the command of Marine Corps officers. They will assist in heavy assault operations, as and when they are required. Return to your units and ensure they are fully combat effective. I want all platoons ready for immediate operations with six hours notice. Weapons, armour and vehicles need to be in first class condition. Your ship and unit commanders already have their orders and this will be passed down as required. This campaign will be long and it will be hard, but we will not stop until we are victorious!”
The General lifted up his arm as he finished his speech. The microphone easily picked up the applause he was receiving, presumably from on board the flagship where the footage was being recorded. The camera footage pulled back to show at least thirty people in the foreground clapping. The display faded back to the Confederate Military motif and lights in the room slowly increased in brightness. Lieutenant Colonel Blake turned to the assembled group and the hum of chatter quickly softened until he was greeted with silence.
“Thank you. As you have probably gathered, this message is one of the most important you will have ever seen. The strategic situation has changed and so must we, if we are to turn back this genocidal assault on our way of life. The message is being relayed to every Confed ship and military base in the Proxima System. It reminds us that the civilian government structure is in place and has the potential to be stronger than ever before. We are not just a fleet. We are a moving Confederacy. Where we go, the Confederacy goes and with us we spread out values and ideas of the rights and responsibilities of our citizens. The battle plan laid out by General Rivers is complex and will not be easy. I have no doubts that this battalion will be responsible for some of the toughest missions. After all, that is what we are for. We are always first into trouble and the last back out. Prepare your units for assault operations. We can expect to be hitting ships, stations or planets in days, perhaps even hours. Make sure your people are fully competent and ready. We are massively outnumbered, but our single advantage is experience. We have better trained and more experienced marines and soldiers, than any unit in the Union. Dismissed!”
Some of the officers started to file out of the room. Spartan and a few others stayed, each looking carefully at the data and reports coming in on the large screens. Marcus looked over to Spartan, nodding his head in agreement, presumably with the announced plan.
“Looks like we’re going to war then. Operation Perdition has a nasty ring to it. I assume that was Rivers’ idea to scare the crap out of the enemy. I just hope he wasn’t planning on doing the same for our people.”
“Maybe, or perhaps Rivers knows exactly the kind of bloody campaign this is really going to be. You remember what it was like on Prime. They don’t give up and they have numbers and industrial capacity on their side,” replied Spartan grimly.
* * *
Spartan and Teresa sat relaxing in the soft couches in the ship’s recreation room. It was a spacious area and over a dozen marines were sat relaxing or playing games on the various computer systems. There was a pool table in the middle of the room. It was much like a traditional table, but the balls were sealed inside and struck with shortened cues that moved the balls when they reached a few millimetres from their targets. It was beautifully constructed and balanced so that the game could be played with or without gravity, even when the engines were on full burn. On the outside it appeared impossible, but in reality the balls were held in place by magnets and the system was managed by a detailed and responsive computer system.
Sergeant Lovett and Keller were busy playing on it. The sound of the wooden cues almost striking the balls sent the occasional tapping sound throughout the room.
“You’re going down, old man!” whispered Marcus to his opponent, whilst tapping one of the balls gently.
Spartan turned from watching them and back to Teresa.
“Have you heard from your friends on Prometheus? Bishop, Kowalski or Anderson?”
“Not for a while now. I guess they are all busy working on the tech in the base. Last time I spoke with Anderson, he was still working on the Biomechs. Apparently Gun had been causing a bit of trouble.”
“A problem?”
“No, not that kind of trouble. It was about a weapon or something. Anderson wanted to examine it, Gun wanted it for himself to use. You know what he’s like, he does like his guns and knives!”
Spartan laughed though not as loudly as she was used to. It was as if his mind was elsewhere, not really on this conversation.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “Come on, I’m not stupid, tell me.”
“Something isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but the enemy, their plans and their people. It just doesn’t seem to fit together. On one hand you have the religious insurgents, like those we fought on the Naval Station. Then we found ourselves up against the Biomechs and some of the religious organisations on Kerberos.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well, what is the point? What are these groups after and why are they working together? Then, there is this group known as the Core. What kind of name is that? They must be the people who have been sending the control data to the AI hubs in the factories and some of the ships. It’s a clever way of running things, without ever having to be in the same system. I still don’t see why though, what do they get?”
“You’ve seen the news reports from the colonies. Those that have seceded seem to be quite happy to be members of the Echidna Union. You have to admit, their offerings are attractive.”
Spartan looked less than impressed.
“You saw the transmission from the Admiral. The civilians aren’t happy, how could they be? Working, eating and then death! What about ambition, politics, even competition? That broadcast confirmed the entire political system has been removed. Now they have Colony officials, all appointed by Typhon and his cronies. I just don’t get the point of it all. Is it simply a play for the Church to take over everything?”
“Don’t forget the signals and the AI units. Typhon wasn’t just giving orders, he was receiving them from the Core, whatever it is.”
Captain Daniels entered the room, accompanied by a small group of his marines. They wandered over and started chatting to Marcus who was still playing pool. He looked about until he could see Spartan sat in the corner.
“He looks serious,” said Teresa, as she watched the officer approach, they both made to stand up.
“Yeah, he does.”
Captain Daniels beckoned them to sit. Spartan nodded and indicated to his side.
“You look more worried than I am, what’s up?”
Captain Daniels sat down, handing Spartan a datapad with a series of maps and charts for the Fleet disposition.
“The announcement from the Admiral about the new campaign and this new strategy. If you look at the numbers, you can see we are up against it. They have more men, more weapons and more resources. There is even a chance they have enough ships already built to match us, I guess we’ll find out about that soon enough.”
“You’re right, but that isn’t what’s got you bothered, is it?”
“True. It’s the strategy that is getting me. I’ve been double-checking the intelligence you brought back from the Bone Mill. I’ve been looking over your report, as well as the information you recovered on Prometheus. What gets me isn’t the Biomechs, or even the Zealots, it is the one thing that keeps popping up time and time again.”
“The Core?” asked Teresa.
“Exactly!” replied Captain Daniels with a grin.
“This Core faction seems to be the real enemy, the one pulling the strings and the one that seems to always be one step ahead.”
Spartan nodded in agreement. “Yes, I’ve been thinking the same.”
Captain Daniels scratched his chin and gave the impression he was trying to find a way to raise a particular point. Spartan took in a deep breath, expecting the worst.