The Great Betrayal

Chapter TEN

What was the leadership behind Echidna during the Uprising? The War was over and the Alliance spreading its light from world to world, yet few understood what had actually happened. The Zealots were a holdover from the days of the Great War and the many religious persecutions. The military leaders of the Echidna Union seemed to share one thing in common, a desire for advancement no matter what weapons were used. There were even rumors that the icons themselves were payment for the technology of the Biomechs, a contract that only a handful of people would ever known about.



Holy Icons





Spartan inched around the corner of the passageway so that he could check out the next bend. The slow pulsing of the red warning lights had been running for more than ten minutes, and yet there was still no sign of any level of security.

“Where the hell are the guards?” asked Khan.

Spartan threw him a sideways glance, raising a hand to tell him to stay silent. He looked back around the corner and watched the shape of one more Biomech machine. As before, this looked like one of the senior machines, like the ones that had captured and tortured Khan. He felt a pain in his left hand but tried to ignore it; the hand was now long gone. He rested the T’Kari rifle on his broken arm and took careful aim. This machine was almost totally stripped of any color, because of disinterest or perhaps age. Even so, it was as big as Khan and moved on two massive legs. They seemed oversized compared to the smaller torso. In front and behind marched a dozen T’Kari, each in fully enclosed armored suits and rifles at their shoulders. Their feet made an odd sucking sound as the magboots attached and detached in rhythm on the floor.

“We have company,” Spartan whispered to his friend.

One of the T’Kari stepped forward rather than using the lack of gravity to move effortlessly. Spartan tried to reach out, but the female had already stepped out from the cover and into the passageway facing the approaching machine. Spartan took aim with his borrowed rifle, but Khan pushed down on the barrel. Spartan looked at him and his shaking head.

“No, she must have a plan.”

He looked back and watched carefully. He could now make out the shape of the Biomech with greater certainty. The legs were substantial, yet he noticed there was no discernible head. The torso was egg-shaped, and six or more spindly arms hung down loosely around the body.

“What is it?” asked Khan.

Spartan looked at the thing, but he could honestly find nothing useful to Khan. The female T’Kari walked halfway toward the party before lifting her hand and saying something in the T’Kari language. Those around the Biomech looked confused and then started arguing with her. The machine took a single step forward before the female T’Kari turned around and pointed in the direction of Spartan. One of them must have spotted something because they spoke quickly and excitedly. The machine twisted and faced in the same direction, with two arms pointing out toward and right at him.

“The bastards, they’ve betrayed us!” growled Khan.

Without magboots, their mobility was limited. Even so, Spartan moved out from cover and took direct aim at the machine.

If I can kill one of their masters, maybe they’ll go a little lighter on us? he thought optimistically.

Before he was able to shoot, the group of T’Kari turned on the machine, and three opened fire with their rifles. The others attacked it with whatever tools or weapons they could find. An arm was torn off, and a T’Kari spun out into the passageway with blood spurting from a deep gash to the neck.

“Nice!” roared Khan, and with a kick he floated off toward the machine.

Spartan took aim, but in the bloody melee there was no opportunity to open fire. He was forced to close the distance like Khan, but by the time they had arrived, another T’Kari lay dead and the machine was smashed to ruin. Spartan stopped in front of the female who had once more opened her helm to reveal her face. She looked at him and then to her people. Her words streamed out, but Spartan very quickly recognized his name.

“Uh, Spartan, how does she know who you are?”

He shrugged in reply.

“How the hell would I know?”

Khan tapped his shoulder, and he looked back to see the group of ten T’Kari plus the two they had already found. The female nodded to him, and then in a shocking move, all twelve lowered themselves to a single knee, as if he was some kind of savior.

“I think they like you,” laughed Khan suspiciously.

“Yeah, weird, right?”

He sensed they might be able to help though, if properly motivated. More sounds from behind them in the next passageway encouraged him to make a decision, and fast.

“Follow me!”

Spartan pulled himself out of the corridor and into yet another wide passageway. By his count, this was the seventh storage area inside the station. It seemed like Spartan and Khan had been on the station for days, yet he suspected it was an hour, probably a great deal less. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected it was closer to thirty minutes. They reached the end and came to a crossroads. The female T’Kari pointed to the right-hand entrance for them all to go through.

“Where do you think it goes?” asked Khan.

Spartan raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Come on, let’s see what she has to show us.”

They went down the much smaller passageway, a hexagonal shaft with observation windows on two sides. As they moved along, it gave them a wide view of different parts of the space platform they were inside. From the shape of the structures, the Rift generator plants, and number of moored vessels, it was clearly something much more than just a control station. They had already spotted at least a dozen massive hangars. As they pushed on, Spartan wondered what else might be aboard this place, other than storage rooms filled with tubes that contained creatures and machines of many configurations. The female T’Kari beckoned to one of the larger doors. As he approached, it automatically opened. He pulled himself inside, and Khan watched him go in before moving to follow. There was something about this particular section that stopped Spartan in his tracks.

“Just look at this place,” he said quietly.

Khan moved in right behind him and moved his head slowly, taking in the detail. He counted hundreds of cylinders, and that was just in the one room, each of them stacked five high. He counted at least five more rows of the same. Spartan stayed with the two T’Kari, but his curiosity forced him to move closer. It took only a few seconds to reach the nearest of the pod type devices. Tubes ran above and below the unit, and different colored fluids ran continually.

Khan leaned forward until his face touched the dull transparent plastic. His reflection appeared far worse than he would ever have imagined. The face looking back at him was pale and tired. He was surprised at his transformation during his captivity.

“Man, do I look bad!” He stared at the pod.

“What is it?”

Khan looked back to Spartan and shook his head bitterly.

“It’s Biomechs again, just like me.”

Spartan wasn’t as shocked as Khan. He had seen this technology on several occasions before. Leaving the two T’Kari, he pushed off from the ground and drifted toward the first pod. Khan grabbed him and pulled him close to the misted transparent front. The face inside was definitely a synthetic and close, if not identical, to those created in the middle of the Uprising. The female T’Kari pointed at the pod and then to Khan. He shook his head, but it wasn’t at all clear if they understood what he was trying to communicate.

“No, I am free. These are Biomechs warriors.”

The female spoke with her comrade and then moved back to her group, her boots making that odd sucking sound. Khan turned his attention to Spartan who was turning his head to get the scope of the place.

“This place is a storage site, like a forward base of operations.”

Khan nodded in agreement.

“For where though?”

Spartan raised an eyebrow at his question.

“Remember the Rift this place is right next to? My guess is they are waiting here to send these troops into battle against a station or colony. ”

“Ours?”

Spartan moved his head from side to side.

“Maybe. Remember how many Biomechs were unleashed in the Uprising. We wondered how the Zealots managed to get so many, so fast. What if the Biomechs had given them a force to start with, and then the tech to create more?”

“Why though? If they have the troops, they could manage on their own.”

Spartan wasn’t quite sure what the answer was to that particular question. All he knew was that no matter where he traveled, he seemed to come across machines and Biomechanical creatures that had been built for one purpose, the total destruction of an area. Then it dawned on him. He pulled Khan closer to his face.

“They aren’t looking to conquer. How much territory did the Biomechs themselves ever take in the War? The creatures were just tools, weapons for their war. I have an idea.”

“Really,” muttered Khan. He had no idea where Spartan was going with this line of thought.

“I think these Biomechs aren’t as powerful as you might think. They want people, races, and empires at war. They want struggle and weakness.”

“But why?”

Spartan had been thinking on this problem long and hard. There were many things to consider when it came to the wars against the Zealots and their masters. The more he discovered, the more complicated the entire thing became.

“You remember the machines on the ship; they were ancient creatures, cocooned inside advanced machine bodies. If you were thousands of years old, wouldn’t you want to stay that way?”

Khan said nothing and returned his gaze to the dead face of the thing inside the pod. It saddened him to see what amounted to as a cousin inside these chambers. His kin might be reproducing naturally now, but they would never forget their roots; one based on blood, deception, and science. Spartan watched him and glanced at the waiting T’Kari before continuing.

“They do not have the numbers, so they use others to keep themselves safe. They send this technology against all of us to keep any of us from turning our attention from our own troubles and back onto them.”

Khan thought about it. It wasn’t something that had really occurred to him, but the more he considered it, the more it made sense.

“Interesting, so they wait behind their Biomech warriors and ships, and send agents throughout worlds to start wars and spread destruction while their own worlds stay fat and safe.”

Khan turned around to face Spartan. His face had changed to bitter anger.

“Remember our interrogation, Khan? I don’t at all, but I do recall part of what they passed on about their world. They are powerful, and they see themselves like gods. But they are ancient, and there are no more of them.”

“The leader, the one who opened up his armor?”

Spartan smiled grimly.

“Yeah, their bodies inside are broken and old. The massive one that tried to arrive on Hyperion was probably one of their commanders. Their robotic bodies get bigger and more powerful I suspect to match their position.”

Khan’s lip curled up again.

“Then I say we get home, build up a fleet, bring fire to their worlds, and end this once and for all, unless we want the cycle to go on forever.”

Spartan nodded slowly in his direction.

“My thoughts exactly, old friend.”

Spartan hadn’t actually considered the cycle idea, but it did make sense. He began to wonder what might have happened if the Confederacy hadn’t won in the Great Uprising. Would something else have then attempted to tear whatever was left apart?

Like sending us out to Orion to find new people to struggle against?

That made him feel a little uneasy. The Biomechs, the Zealots, and their myriad of enslaved supporters created an enemy that was difficult, if not impossible to identify, let alone to fight.

“Typhon and the others, they must have been indoctrinated to operate as intermediaries between the Biomechs and those fighting on the side of Echidna.”

“Yeah, notice how this whole Echidna thing just seems to be a way of getting people to treat a machine creature as something like a god. Why didn’t we see that, Spartan?”

There was a short pause while the two considered that point. In the end, Spartan rubbed his forehead and smiled.

“We will persuade our military and the T’Kari, plus anybody else we can find, to work together. It is time to stop them, permanently.”

Khan heard something at the doorway and leaned over. It was the two aliens moving closer to speak quietly together.

“What about them?”

Spartan considered for a moment.

“Well, so far I’ve only seen the occasional machine on this station. It could be almost entirely automated. There are quite a few T’Kari, so they must be slaves, like the ones we came across on the Raider ships. I say we get them all off this station and back to T’Kari space with us. They might have useful information if we’re going to turn on the Biomechs.”

“Did you see the T’Kari ships docked on the lower coupling?”

Spartan nodded.

“Yeah, you can just about make them out back there, through the side observation ports. Why? What are you thinking?”

Khan’s lip turned up with pleasure.

“I think we should get our friends out to one of them. They understand the tech. If we can get on board, we must be able to steal one.”

Spartan seemed happy at the idea, but he was aware of the potential for disaster with this plan. The Biomechs could have easily disabled the ships or simply placed a few guards to protect them.

Well, it’s not like we have many options, is it?

He pointed at the pods around them. They seemed insignificant in size, compared to the hundreds and hundreds of the devices.

“What about all of this?”

Spartan suspected his friend would want to free them, but it wasn’t going to be likely. Each of the Biomechs would have been programmed over a period of months, possibly even years as they were prepared for their missions. The process of integrating Biomechs into the Alliance had proven almost impossible, and the majority continued to fight even once their programming had been purged. It had been different for Khan and the others, as a traitor had altered their coding at an early stage for his own nefarious reasons.

We would need access to this place for months if we wanted to turn them.

Spartan tried to work out how he could break this news to his friend, but Khan already appeared resigned to their fate and had an idea of his own.

“We steal a ship and blow this place.”

For a second, Spartan thought his friend was joking, but there was nothing but determination on his face.

“Yes, it’s about time they felt a little of our wrath. Come on!”

They both headed the T’Kari group but would have stopped if they’d seen their expressions beforehand. The female had already moved out to the doorway and was watching the shape of a vast spacecraft approaching the station through the nearest of the three observation ports. In space, the Biomech warship had seemed large, but at this range seemed positively massive.

“Uh, Spartan, this could be a problem.”

Spartan coughed, a cold feeling now gnawing at his stomach.

“No…this isn’t a problem. This is an opportunity. Follow me, I have an idea.”

The battered shape of Spartan whisked off down the passageway as he pushed and pulled his way at surprising speed. Khan followed right behind, and the T’Kari moved as quickly as their magboots would allow. They spent almost ten minutes working their way through the innards of the station, pausing only to check with the female T’Kari on directions. Finally, they reached a wide blast door with symbols running around its frame.

“This is the place,” said Spartan.

Khan looked concerned.

“The docking ring for the ships? What if they have guards?”

He clenched his fists around the chunk of metal he was still holding to use as a club. Spartan noticed the movement first through the thin circular observation window cut into the blast door. He moved closer and tried to work out what was happening, but then it became clear.

“A rotating section. The ring must be spinning around the axis of the station. The smaller ships are docked directly onto the ring. That’s weird.”

Khan lifted his right shoulder in a slight shrug.

“Compared to that thing out there, the T’Kari ships look like shuttles. We do the same thing with landers on the platforms around Hyperion.”

Spartan looked down at the rifle he’d taken from the T’Kari. It was longer than any rifle he’d used before and looked in poor condition. Corrosion showed on the metalwork, and it was heavily worn and marked along the barrel and receiver. Khan spotted him looking down at the weapon.

“Yeah, I don’t think their gear gets much in the way of practice.”

Spartan grimaced and looked back to the tiny window. He could make out the ring walkway and the dozen or so airlocks that led off to the ship docking ports. He cradled the weapon and looked over to Khan and the waiting T’Kari. One of the aliens pointed at the ship, making a gesture with his hands of a ship taking off. Spartan assumed that was what the T’Kari was trying to say anyway.

“You ready?”

Khan nodded, and Spartan could only assume the others would follow.

“Right, let’s go!”

He struck the door seal button, and it hissed open, revealing the walkway that moved past them to the right. It was like a massive treadmill, and he used the grab rail to move out to it before placing his feet on the ground.

Weird!

Khan did the same and was quickly followed by the others. In seconds, the entire group was on board the massive rotating ring that reminded him of the habitation rings of other stations. It was wide, easily big enough for ten warriors of Khan’s size to stand abreast. Trolleys with equipment dotted the sides, and storage racks were filled with spares and supplies.

“Spartan!”

He turned. Khan was pointing at the T’Kari. The entire group had broken into a run and was heading for one of the airlock sections to the right of the ring. Spartan tracked their movement with his head before reaching a pair of flashing red lights. The airlock door opened; at the same time two more that flanked it opened up. Out rushed five T’Kari, each clad in black armor and with their weapons raised. Two dropped to one knee while the others stayed upright, but all pointed their rifles at the escapees.

Typical!

Spartan took aim with his rifle and waited. The argument seemed to go on forever before the female T’Kari stepped between them. One of the black armored figures opened fire. The blue pulse of energy burned a hole the size of a man’s fist in her chest, and she staggered back, falling into the waiting arms of her comrades. The argument turned to a firefight, and two more T’Kari fell before the black figures moved out unscathed, taking up positions behind the trolleys.

“We need to sort this out, and fast!” shouted Spartan.

Khan was already halfway there with his metal club raised when the black armor clad figures spotted him. Another door opened at the other end, revealing the form of two more of the Biomech soldiers. One walked on four legs, the other looked much like the serpent monster Echidna. They were covered in black metal plates, and red dots glowed where their eyes should be. The four-legged one was Khan’s size while the other stood at a height of nearly half as tall again. The taller called out in a machine-like tone.

“Screw this!” muttered Spartan and without thinking opened fire. His shot hammered into the armor of the serpent-like machine’s chest, burning a hole into it. It was nowhere near enough to stop one of these machines. Another dozen black-armored T’Kari surged out of the gap and formed up in front of the Biomech machines as a living shield.

“They’re insane.” He looked to Khan. He’d reached the firefight between the two groups of T’Kari. Like some ancient demon, he swung his metal club and with each strike downed one of them, even as their gunfire burned into his thick flesh.

We need to get out of here!

He ran as quickly as he could after the rest, ever nervous that off to his side was the group of reinforcements, as well as the two Biomech machines.

They aren’t taking me prisoner, not again.

He reached Khan. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds. The surviving T’Kari fanned out around the now sealed doorway and trained their guns on the approaching machines and their black servants. Khan spat blood on the floor and looked to Spartan.

“What now?”

He pointed at the sealed door that led out into the airlock chamber and to the waiting T’Kari destroyer size ship.

“We get through that door and out of here.”

“How?”

Spartan lifted his rifle and took aim.

“Just like the old days, my friend. We keep shooting until we win!”

Khan was a bleeding mess, but it was impossible for him to hide the massive grin showing on his face. He lifted his metal club and brought it down repeatedly on the door. Spartan blasted it with his rifle. A handful of the T’Kari watched in astonishment as a small hole appeared. One said something loudly, and then three of them were joining their fire to Spartan’s.



* * *





The interior of the transportation hub was in a much worse state than Jack could ever have imagined. He assumed most of this had occurred when the rebels had initially overrun the site in the first few hours of the revolution. As they crept through in two lines, he noticed the charred remains of a civilian. There was no sign of any weapon near them, but the deep wound in the alien’s back suggested they’d been killed while fleeing, or cut down in a deadly crossfire. Sergeant Stone stopped and lifted his fist. All the marines behind him dropped down. Even the four Rams following the unit stopped and waited like four-legged statues.

Where are they?

They had been inside the structure for nearly a minute, and apart from bodies, they’d not run into a single one of the enemy. A metal flap on the side of one of the Rams lifted up, and another of the hexrotor drones buzzed off ahead of them. Outside it was silent, but in the quiet confines of the structure, its angry buzzing sound was easy to hear, even without the sound amplification of the PDS Alpha armor. Gunfire ripped behind them as the heavy weapons of the rest of the unit hit around the streets, keeping away any reinforcements above ground.

“Keep moving,” announced the Sergeant after what felt like a massive delay.

They each lifted up from the ground and moved on. Wictred looked like a giant inside the confines of the hub. They progressed into a wide-open circular area that ran under the vast dome. The helmet overlay showed the lines of tunnels and roads beneath their feet as well as the position of the other marines.

“Okay, people. The lowest levels are secure. There’s one tunnel here that needs to be blocked. Animosh forces control it, and they are bringing in more troops to overrun this place.”

He looked at the two files of marines.

“We don’t have time to play. The drones count over a hundred Animosh and at least three combat drones down here.”

Jack tried to slow his breathing. No matter how hard he tried, the image of the machine ripping and hacking into the bodies of friend and foe alike filled him with dread. He thought of Vadi, the synthetic warrior who was fighting so valiantly with the marines at the precinct.

Get a grip, you idiot. You have work to do.

“The entrance is two hundred meters that way. Fix bayonets and get ready. We’re going to rush this place and stop them cold, understood?”

The marines nodded in the affirmative. They were outnumbered five to one, and according to the information coming in from the drones, the Animosh and their machines were spread out both in the tunnel and also on the levels and platforms around it. They were clearly in the process of consolidating their position, prior to bringing in more troops.

“Right, follow me!” cried Sergeant Stone.

He ran off ahead of the marines, and without even considering the consequences, the marines chased after him. They held their rifles and carbines low and ready, with their bayonets fixed. It almost felt like being out on yet another run to Jack. They moved fast, and the air regulator was pushed hard to keep a solid supply of oxygen to his lungs. The armor felt heavy around his legs, but he pushed on. Then he spotted two Animosh scouts waiting at the end of the path. The Sergeant ran past them as though they weren’t there, and the following marines shot them with subsonic silenced rounds from their carbines.

Poor bastards, Jack thought, as he ran past the bodies.

Wictred moved past him and threw himself at a weapons mount that was only half assembled. It was based around a large platform and fitted out with a pair of large caliber guns. He smashed it from its mount and kicked the single worker who was still trying to fix the mounting. His metal boot crashed into his victim’s head. He looked at the weapon as the other marines surged past. With a single pull, he ripped out the gun from its mount and cradled it in his arms. Jack stopped and looked at his friend who was already checking the unit. He turned his head and grinned widely at Jack.

“You have to get the biggest gun, don’t you?” he laughed.

Wictred nodded and rested the unit on his left arm.

“Why not?”

More marines ran past, and Jack waved at Wictred.

“Come on, you fool. We have to keep moving.”

Everything seemed to slow down to Jack as they worked their way down the path and toward the platform and entrance to the tunnel. It took nearly a minute for the two to work their way back to the front of the squad. By the time they were near the Sergeant, they were past the last bend and moving down to the platform. Flood lamps shone down from both sides and cast a vivid yellow hue on the ground. Flickering light rippled around when a dozen Animosh spotted their approach. Their crates of weapons and supplies offered limited protection as they rushed through the middle of the surprised Animosh. Five were busy unloading gear, and Wictred and Jack crashed into them with their guns blazing and stabbing wildly with their small arms.

“Die!” roared Wictred. He pulled the trigger on the gun mount he was still carrying like some valuable prize. The weapon shuddered, and his body shook as the great gouts of flame cut two Animosh to shredded chunks of blood and armor.

“Keep moving!” shouted Sergeant Stone with a hint of amusement.

Stone brushed past and covered another thirty meters to the platform. Some of the marines returned fire, but most of them chased after their Sergeant. The tunnel ran along the platform, much like the old-fashioned railways still used on Alliance colonies. Three large vehicles waited on the track with tons of supplies sitting on them. Sergeant Stone leapt from the edge onto the first one, landing on its flat bed at the rear. Four of the guards tried to stop him, but he embedded his bayonet deep into the first’s chest and then ripped his pistol from his thigh, firing at the rest.

“Duck!” Jack cried, landing next to the Sergeant.

Without checking, the Sergeant ducked down as a blade swung over his head. Jack cut the enemy down with carbine fire, as a door opened on the vehicle. More Animosh streamed out, but Wictred arrived and blocked their path like a metal giant. He struck down two with the gun; the others panicked and tried to run. The powerful weapon seemed to terrify them with its close ranged brutality. Some were cut down as they fled. It roared like a tank’s secondary weapons. The small number of survivors threw down their weapons and surrendered on the spot. It was over before it really began.

“Okay, marines, lock the prisoners in one of these cars. Stack their weapons and establish a perimeter. I want combat Rams in the tunnel at both ends, and two to stay here to guard the platform. Everybody else will follow me into the tunnel. It’s time we drove these bastards back!”