The Great Betrayal

Chapter FIVE

The realization of the ancient Helion prophecy would focus attention on a hundred worlds. One of the most peculiar would be the old worlds of Sol. Long abandoned by those with the money or means to do so; the worlds of Sol were a shadow of their former selves. Their natural resources had been squandered over millennia of abuse, and of those areas still populated, many had long ago turned to crime. Earth itself, the cradle of humanity was a desolate planet with poisoned oceans, polluted skies, and a populate that had been forced to shelter in massive shielded cities dug just below the surface. Long ignored by the prosperous worlds of Alpha Centauri, Earth would return to significance in ways that the citizens of Helios or Terra Nova could never imagine.



The Lost World





General Daniels surveyed the strategic map inside the heart of ANS Conqueror with great interest. This part of the ship had been extended and improved as part of the massive repair work undertaken following the ship’s last unfortunate incident in orbit around the planet. A dozen other officers manned the computer units at the mapping unit that filled the center of the room. The walls were made of smoked, semi-transparent aluminum, and one of the sides was open and led directly into the CIC of the ship. He could make out the form of Admiral Lewis as he managed the fleet. A middle-aged Captain Hardy approached and saluted. He was the liaison officer between the Navy and Marine Corps, and the critical link between the vast forces now in position around the planet.

“Sir, all ships’ captains confirm the fleet is in position. We have forward elements from the 8th and 17th ready to drop.”

He nodded at the Captain and then looked back at the three commanders of the battalions. Of the three, the only one he knew particularly well was Gun, the Colonel of the 17th Marine Battalion. In the middle of the group of officers was the young Lieutenant Colonel Diego Koerner, another veteran of the last year of the Uprising and the commanding officer of the 8th Marine Battalion, the force that had already seen action in this part of space. The wildcard was Colonel Horst Brünner. He was by far the oldest and looked like he was in his early seventies. He wore a white mustache and looked every part the upper-class officer of Terra Novan ancestry.

“Well, there we have it. Zathee forces are reeling from chemical weapons, and the Animosh are leveling airstrikes on the urban areas. I have the authority from Admiral Anderson, commander of the Orion Sector, to contain this situation. You have seen the plan and made your preparations for operations in the capital.”

He tapped a button and up came a schematic of the areas under dispute. There were four large red spots on the map; each centered on government buildings, precincts, military bases, and landing platforms. A fifth in the center was larger and darker than the rest.

“You will note the entire planet is one massive urban area and technically a giant city. Our numbers are limited though; we will perform surgical strikes at key areas in and around the capital.”

He pointed at an area almost a hundred kilometers in diameter.

“This is heart of the planet, the place that will decide the future of both the planet and the rest of the Helion colonies.”

“General, what about the other colonies?” asked Lieutenant Colonel Diego Koerner.

General Daniels lifted his finger slightly as if remembering an important fact.

“Narau forces are operating a blockade of any military vessels moving between the colonies and Helios. This conflict is being contained, and if we are smart, we’ll be successful here. According to Alliance Intelligence, the other colonies are agitating, but it hasn’t moved to full-scale insurrection…yet!”

He held his chin in his hand for a moment before launching into the details of the operation. The assembled officers waited patiently and double-checked the details with those on their secpad.

“Now, let me summarize the overall plan. We have a multi-pronged operation that will stabilize this situation and return Helios to its people. First, we need to find and evacuate key Helion personnel that are on the run. Without them, the uprising will be without solid leadership. Second, we need to protect the civilians, and third, we will assist the government in exile at defeating this coup.”

All three of them had gone over the details of the operation a dozen times, but General Daniels was leaving nothing to chance. He wanted to ensure they knew both their own objectives as well as the overall strategy. In his experience, it was critical that everybody involved knew the plan from a high level. It was all too easy to get caught up in individual details and then ignore the big picture.

“Phase One is the rescue operation, and it will be conducted by Captain Carter of the 8th Battalion.”

He looked at the young man with a thin black mustache. He was by far the youngest and most junior of those present, yet he stood up smartly and with an air of supreme confidence about him. Lieutenant Colonel Diego Koerner had selected him, as being his most experienced and dynamic officer. He’d had little time to check the man’s dossier, but from what he’d seen, there were few better at such a risky operation. He nodded at the man and then returned to his briefing.

“The Captain’s forces will land at the besieged Animosh precinct that has been taken over by Zathee rebels. Some of the survivors of the Helion government are trapped inside and completely surrounded by Animosh forces.”

The General placed his hand over the red shape on the map. An aerial image of the site showed the precinct was the size of a shopping center and flanked at each corner by large towers. It was the largest structure in the area, apart from a large domed building on the opposite side of the street.

“We’re in sporadic contact with them via an Alliance operative that is inside there. At last count there were over two hundred Zathee and a dozen Helion officials, including the Helion Vice President. There is more than just the precinct though.”

He moved the image to show the domed structure.

“Underneath this building is the crossover point for six major road and rail systems. Whoever controls this key location can slow the flow of weapons and troops. Right now, the Animosh are using it to move their forces underground and away from the street levels. If we block it, they will be forced to move overland and in plain view of our aircraft. We must secure this underground location for as long as it takes.”

He nodded in the direction of Lieutenant Colonel Diego Koerner.

“This is an aerial assault operation and will be conducted by your recon elements under Carter. It will be a high-speed smash and grab operation, right under their noses. They will secure the precinct structure, evacuate the officials, and then hold the precinct and transport hub until elements from Phase Two to link up with them. ”

He turned his attention to the vast bulk of Gun. Colonel Brünner seemed to pretend that Gun wasn’t there, and General Daniels made a mental note to examine this further.

“Colonel Gun, you will have the honor of leading the ground operation itself.”

He let that sink in for a moment and watched for the reactions of the other two Battalion commanders. As he suspected, only Colonel Brünner seemed to have any issues with having a former Biomech in charge of such an operation. Even so, the man said nothing, but he suspected he would be hearing about his decision to use Gun via other channels. Colonel Brünner was certainly well connected with High Command.

“Phase Two will, in my opinion, be the riskiest of the three phases. I’ve therefore decided to hand it to our renowned expert in direct action.”

Gun smiled at this, especially when he mentioned the phrase ‘direct action’. He couldn’t think of a better description for his preferred method of battle.

“This will be a major show of force, and the Colonel will land the entirety of the 17th on a broad front in the capital city. The Zathee have been alerted of this, but there is still a chance some will not have heard the news. You will act as a buffer and engage any forces attempting to strike the civilians. Nearly two thousand marines will secure a dozen strong points and box in the Animosh and any Helion troops still fighting for the generals that instigated the coup.”

He looked at Gun and noted the change in Gun’s face. He was now serious, and it reminded him of the grim determination he’d seen on his old friend’s face many times before.

“Spartan relied on you in the past, and now I will. You will need an iron will to maintain this line against any aggressors. Without you, our foothold will be temporary, and we could be forced to abandon our operation. I need temporary landing zones cleared for the next phase.”

Gun grinned.

“I’ve never let Spartan down, and nothing will change with you, General.”

The battle-scarred Jötnar was greatly out of place alongside the other officers. They may have been wearing the same uniforms, but there was no hiding the great monster of a warrior standing in their midst. General Daniels nodded in response to his words and then turned to Lieutenant Colonel Koerner.

“Colonel, you will command the relief troops for Phase One. Using the ground secured by your own recon units, the rest of the 17th will land armored vehicles and bring in the heavier equipment. Once assembled, you will send in an armored column in support for Captain Carter and the rest of your forces at the precinct. Your remaining units will support Colonel Gun on the ground, wherever he deems it necessary.”

He looked back at the map and tapped it. The image changed to show the ground taken by the marines, as well as the precinct sitting directly in the middle of the Animosh defenses. It was clear Carter would have his work cut out holding this position, but there was nothing else he could do. It was the center point for the entire operation.

“Yes, General,” Koerner answered smartly.

Then he turned to Colonel Horst Brünner.

“Colonel, the 4th are only recently reformed. As you know, I have decided to keep them on standby as a mobile reserve. You have the largest number of Vanguards and Jötnar assault units in the regiment and will need to be ready if the call comes. The Helions are a paradox, and we barely understand their people, let alone the many factions and cultures. I want options if things head south.”

Gun didn’t seem particularly happy about this and turned to look at the man. He wanted to say something, but Daniels spotted him trying hard to keep quiet. Though he had his own battalion to command, there were no more than a score of the Jötnar spread over more than fourteen hundred marines in his battalion. Brünner, on the other hand, was in command of the newly designated Heavy Battalion, and that included over a hundred of his kin under his command, marines that Gun felt personal responsibility for, even though they were now technically equal to any other citizen in the Alliance.

Don’t say it, Daniels thought, as he watched the scarred warrior. Perhaps in the past he might have spoken, but over the years Gun has learnt something of diplomacy. Good.

The man simply nodded in acknowledgement, refusing to utter a single word of complaint in the presence of the Biomech. Daniels could see what was happening but decided that was a battle for another day.

“I thought you were some kind of spiritual leader for your Biomech friends?”

It was a low blow, but Gun seemed to take it in his stride.

“I still am, ask any Jötnar.”

“But your council, isn’t it now disbanded?”

Gun gave him a wicked smile.

“The council, but our tribal system remains, as does my place. We are now Alliance citizens, no different to you, as promised by the Senate. Most of my kin still live on Prometheus, Hyperion, and Luthien, and they are all colonies of the Alliance, as those of Carthago and Kerberos.”

“But you are not the...”

“Colonel,” cut in Gun, “you know nothing of our people, or what we have done for you. My people still consider me the first...because I am.”

Those last words made the other men laugh, and it bizarrely managed to calm things down a little. Admiral Lewis had been wondering at what point the deconstruction of the Jötnar political system would be brought up. It had been gradual but necessary if they were to become a full and active part of the Alliance. The benefits to the Alliance were already being felt as hundreds of Jötnar signed up to join the Marine Corps. As he looked at Gun, he did wonder if the Jötnar would ultimately replace normal humans, due to their natural size, strength, and toughness. That was for another day though; it would be generations before they would need to consider this. At least that was what he hoped.

“As you can see, gentlemen, we have a busy day ahead of us. Remember, we have specific objectives to achieve. Triple-check your briefings; the enemy is a violent regime that has turned on its own people. They are a ruthless people with the full force of the state security forces, known as the Animosh under their command. We estimate their numbers at a little over thirty thousand operatives in the capital alone. We are also aware that they utilize over a hundred combat drones.”

General Daniels took a short breath before giving them the final piece of information.

“There are also rumors that citizens from the pure blooded ethnic groups are volunteering to form citizen militias to help the Animosh. This is unconfirmed. Remember, this battle will be fought and won by the Zathee themselves. They have millions on their side, along with local knowledge. If we do our job, the Zathee will be able to finish theirs.”



* * *





Spartan drifted from the bomber and pulled himself to the ground of the station. He kept as low as possible and was pleasantly surprised to find the pressure and breathable oxygen indicators in his suit were both showing as green. He looked up at the cold figure of Khan and shook his head at him.

“Khan!” he whispered, as quietly as he could manage. A pair of emotionless eyes looked down at him.

“Follow me.”

There was a series of deep incisions in the floor of the hangar, much like pits in a garage, and he was able to move inside and out of the line of sight of anybody in the station. Khan pushed back and drifted down from the bomb bay toward Spartan. As soon as he was free of the craft, he found himself spinning uncontrollably. Spartan reached up, grabbed his foot, and dragged him into the blackness. With a hiss, his visor slid open to reveal a beaming smile.

“Can you believe it? We’re on a Biomech station!”

Khan showed no signs of amusement.

The bomber itself now sat in the center of one of the smaller hangars and attached to four long spindles extending from the sides, top, and bottom of the spacecraft. It would have been impossible in a building with normal gravity, but this section was like any other part of space, and the outer hangar there so that it could be safely pressurized.

“They must have people here, otherwise why bother with the air?”

Khan shrugged, but he was thinking about something.

“Why have people here? Maybe it’s being used to store prisoners, like the ship we were on.”

The mere thought of the ship they’d escaped from sent a sickening feeling through Spartan’s body. He looked down at his stump of an arm; doing his best to hide the bile he felt building in his throat.

“Bastards,” he muttered.

“There’s something else it could be,” suggested Khan.

Spartan was breathing quickly and tried to calm down for a few seconds before speaking.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember the inside of the T’Kari Raider, all those pods and the clones. What if this station is being used to store more like that?”

Spartan nodded but didn’t look convinced.

“Who knows?”

A sound from their right caught their attention and both fell silent. It was a clanking sound, and instantly took Spartan back to the ship. It was the sound the Biomech machines made when they walked, an odd mixture of servos, gears, and motors. Unlike the machinery used by the Alliance, the Biomech machines had a smoother, quiet sound, and it was unmistakable to him. The sound became louder, along with the clunk of large metal feet. Just as each foot moved, there was an odd suction type noise as the mag seals on its feet activated and deactivated in sequence so that it could move about ion a zero gravity environment. Then it appeared above him.

Another one of those things!

It took a great deal of self control not to hurl himself out of their dark hiding place and up into the hangar, so he could strike a blow against one of the hated machines that had caused him and Khan so much pain and suffering, and over so many months.

“Spartan, isn’t that the one?”

Spartan watched with interest as the shape went past. He could make out the coloring of the thing, and it seemed to be a dull yellow where any kind of paint was still intact. Most of its metalwork was worn down to the original material and was simply a matted gray that reflected little.

“No, this one is different and smaller. Watch how it moves.”

They both stayed as low as possible while high enough to get a narrow view of the machine. It was bipedal and about two and a half meters high. Unlike the machines on the ship, this one was equipped with four arms, and two were equipped with a selection of large tools. It moved up to the side of the bomber and turned to face the right-hand door nearly halfway along the length of the spacecraft.

“What’s it doing?” asked Khan.

Spartan watched and for a moment had no idea what was happening. Then the angular piece on one of the right arms started to spin and gave off a high-pitched screaming sound. It leaned toward the bomber and placed the tool directly onto the metalwork. A great blast of sparks flew from the outer skin, and in seconds the machine had ripped through the outer layer and was pushing its two tool arms inside the aircraft. Khan had lifted his head up enough to watch, but Spartan grabbed him and pushed him back down.

“There’s more of them!” he said, almost in a panic.

Two machines came from the other side of the hangar, but these were smaller eight-legged ones. Spartan kept low and watched them move by following their shadows on the wall. It didn’t take him long to recognize the form. He moved back down and faced Khan.

“Remember those eight-legged things on Hyperion?”

“The robotic fighting machines?”

Spartan nodded.

“Yeah, those things. Well guess what’s just arrived?”

Khan clenched his fists, gnashing his teeth as he listened to their approach. They were a powerful foe, and one he had a great deal of experience of. On Hyperion, one of the Alliance’s newest colonies, the Biomechs had attempted to build a portal. A large force of marines and Jötnar had defeated them at great cost. Khan himself had fought the machines in hand-to-hand combat and remembered the adrenalin and excitement, as well as the carnage when fighting them. Khan pulled Spartan close to his face.

“If they have those machines here, then they are expecting trouble.”

Spartan considered this for a moment.

“Us?”

Khan raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Are you serious? They would fill a station with machines, just in case we stopped here?”

As Khan explained it, Spartan did his best to hide his embarrassment.

Of course it’s nonsense to think they would take such measures for two people. It’s far more likely they’re here for something a little more substantial.

“You think they are part of an assault force. Yeah, makes sense.”

The two were quiet and listened to the sound of the machines moving about above them. Neither enjoyed skulking about in the dark. It was the exact opposite of their preferred method of combat. Spartan was the classic marine, always wanting to close with the enemy and engage them with every weapon to hand. Khan was the epitome of the Jötnar, a powerful monster of a man with the intelligence of a marine and the body of a Vanguard. It wouldn’t have taken much to get them out of their hiding place and into action. But neither was armed and both were feeling the effects of their deprivations on board the Biomechs’ ship. Spartan flared his nostrils slightly and then moved up very slowly to take a look.

“I’ll tell you something, old friend. We aren’t leaving this place until we have some answers.”

He started to pull himself away further, but Khan grabbed him.

“And some weapons, decent weapons.”

The Jötnar’s expression had changed already and into something more resembling the old Khan Spartan remembered. It had taken them a long time to make it out of that hole, but finally they were free, and neither was going back. He reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find something, and I promise you, we’ll have our revenge.”

He almost spat at the ground but quickly remembered they were in a zero gravity situation. It was best avoided, so he kept his thoughts and anger deep down and inside.

It’s time these machines were taught a few things.

Spartan was already watching those above them and must have spotted something because he was out of the dark gap in the floor and moving through the air. He turned his head and looked back at Khan.

“Come on, we have an opening.”

There wasn’t a second’s hesitation on Khan’s face, and just like a hundred times before, he was following Spartan and expecting to run into trouble at any moment. They were past the bomber and heading toward an open area to the rear where four oval doors were fitted. Each was large enough for a Biomech machine to move through, and one had been left open. They drifted toward the door, reaching the railings that ran around the frame. Spartan pulled himself to the right, but Khan landed by accident directly in the middle. He should have moved but just stood there, gazing at the object on the other side of the open door.

“Khan, get back!” muttered Spartan, but his friend was captivated.

Spartan glanced over his left shoulder at the bomber. There was no sign of the Biomech or its machine siblings, only the aged spacecraft and the cavernous hangar. He noticed the markings from the days of the Confederacy, and for the briefest moment felt a pang of nostalgia for those days. There had been no Alliance, no Biomech war machines, and no alien races back then. The walls of the hangar were fitted out with scores of racks and mounts from which hung a variety of tools from simple hand tools to complex and unrecognizable heavy devices. A sound from near the bomber drew his attention. As he watched, a pair of humanoid shapes moved around the craft.

Dammit!

“Khan, with me!”

There was no time for contemplation or thinking. He pulled at the rails and swung inside the doorway and into the next section. Khan needed no encouragement, and both slipped inside just as the two figures emerged from the side of the bomber. Spartan observed them carefully and was surprised when the two forms stopped near the front of the craft and began speaking to each other. Both wore spacesuits but of a totally alien form of manufacture. They were about the same height as Spartan but more slender in build.

“Who are they? More Biomechs?” asked Khan bitterly.

Spartan detected an odd tone in his friend’s voice, and when he looked at him could see the interest he had in these creatures.

Why is he so upset? Is it because he feels an attachment to them if they’re synthetic as well?

Spartan shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so. Look at them; don’t they remind you of somebody?”

Khan’s lip curled slightly as the realization dawned on him.

“T’Kari?”

Spartan nodded.

“Yeah, the suits are different, but they move the same, and listen to them speak.”

The one to the left was busy chatting away, and although it was impossible to understand what they were saying, it was quickly obvious they were speaking the language of the T’Kari, or at the very least a dialect of theirs.

“Do you remember any of their language?”

Khan almost laughed at the question, and Spartan nodded apologetically.

“Yeah, well, it was worth a shot. These must be captured T’Kari. You remember what the others said?”

Khan barely moved his head in silent acknowledgement. Spartan looked back at the two, almost feeling sympathy for them.

“They were taken from their homes in Biomech attacks and forced to serve the machines. They must be holding hostages.”

The large Biomech emerged from the shattered side of the bomber and pulled at the metal framing to extract itself from inside. It caught on part of the metal as it moved, and several chunks tore and split before it was out and attaching itself to the floor. The body language of the two potential T’Kari transformed in an instant. They stood up straight and watched the machine. It moved close to them and swung one of its arms at the nearest. It struck with a low-pitched thud, and the alien was sent spinning about in the weightless environment before striking the wall. Spartan shook his head and reached out to hold Khan back.

“No, we can’t…not yet,” he said as quietly as he could.

The Biomech machine stopped and looked straight at him. Spartan felt his heart drop but kept completely still. Khan did the same, and it looked like it might have worked. It was nonsense, of course; the Biomechs would certainly have access to finely tuned sensors. After all, even the Alliance Vanguard Marines had access to that level of equipment, and the Biomechs were centuries ahead in most regards when it came to science and engineering.

“What about that?” asked Khan.

Until now Spartan hadn’t even looked inside. He looked behind him for a brief moment, gazing at the hundreds of cylindrical shapes fitted like shelves in a warehouse. At first it took him back to the T’Kari Raider they had been on where the enemy had been transporting clones to his own worlds. But this was different, and he was shocked to see the layout was almost identical to the ones he had seen back at the start of the Uprising. He had been on board a ship where the foul Biomech creatures had been created. These cylinders looked exactly the same as those used in the harvesting sites; a place where living prisoners were mulched down and used to create new and terrible monsters. He looked back to Khan, and he could see a change, one that he hadn’t seen for months.

“I can’t, not anymore,” Khan said.

He leaned out of the doorway, pried a bar from the wall mount, and then kicked at the wall and toward the Biomech. He bared his teeth at the thing as he moved silently to it. Spartan watched him go and was instantly reminded of the bond between them. Khan, after all, was related to the Biomechs and all their plans. By all accounts the final stage of manufacture. It seemed they had first started by cloning key individuals, such as the human leader Typhon, to help spread dissent through the Confederacy while doing the same with dozens of other races. Then came the foul creatures, those that left cities as burning pyres, and the very last stage was the completely artificial, synthetically manufactured monsters that included him. At the same time, these machines had managed to encourage every race to side with them from the Zealots of the Confederacy to the T’Kari Raiders in New Charon. It was a long and complicated link, and one that Khan was less than happy about. The warrior spun about. He hurtled toward the machine with shouts of anger bellowing from his lungs. Spartan didn’t hesitate and pulled around to the left to find a tool.

Come on! Find something, anything!

The sound of hand-to-hand combat had already started as Khan smashed his own improvised weapon against the armored housing of the machine. It had turned its four arms against his friend, and Spartan couldn’t imagine he would last long against such speed and savagery. The machines would always have the edge in this kind of encounter.

“Khan!” he cried out in a mixture of fear and anger.

There were small items that he didn’t recognize, but on one unit was a series of metal splinters for fabrication work. They were studded, and he could only assume they were for bracing heavy equipment. It didn’t matter; he needed something substantial to swing. He grabbed the largest and rested the weightless bulk on his shoulder like a club. For a second, he looked like a battered and wounded version of the ancient Herakles, the famous human hero. He looked at the fight and then tensed his muscle against the doorframe like a spring.

“I’m coming!”

He pushed back to compress his legs, flinging himself off and back toward the bomber and the direction they had come in from. As he flew at the machine, a series of sparks flashed off the Biomech. Spartan cried out in surprise as Khan tore off one of its arms. He cast it aside like a piece of garbage and swung behind it to carry on striking. Then Spartan was in range and drifting to the right of the Biomech. It seemed to have completely forgotten about him, but as he tried to stab at it with his metal club, one of the arms twisted about and blocked it.

“It’s like that, is it?” he snapped and grabbed at the arm.

Rather than trying to avoid the powerful limb, he used it to drag himself closer to the thing. It flailed with one of the engineering arms, and a serrated edge slashed Spartan’s leg. It was a quick attack, but the cut was deep and nearly ten centimeters along his flesh. He winced and then jammed the metal splinter into the machine’s neck joint.

“You might be a machine, but I know what’s inside you!” he shouted.

The metal splinter was shaped like a large wedge and pushed down the side of the head and into the torso. There were flashes around its body, and the lights in its armored helm went black. Both grabbed at the floor and the bomber, as the machine halted like some dormant statue. The magseals on its feet still stayed active, so it remained upright but to all intents and purposes, dead.

“Good timing,” Khan spluttered.

Spartan tried to smile, but the blobs of blood from his wound were drifting away. He felt a little sick and would have tipped over if it hadn’t been for the lack of gravity. Khan pulled himself to his friend and looked down at the wound.

“I did all the work, and you still got cut,” he laughed.

Neither of them had noticed the two T’Kari that had been watching the fight unfold. In their bloodlust, they had concentrated on tearing the machine apart. The T’Kari had vanished from their thoughts, but now both waited in silence and with firearms raised and pointing directly at their surprise guests. One chattered excitedly to the other before tapping something on its suit. The helmet opened up to show a face they both recognized. It was that of a female T’Kari. She bowed slightly and lowered her rifle.

“Uh, what’s going on?” asked Spartan.

“How the hell would I know?” muttered Khan, doing his best to nod.

More noise came from the right, and all four turned to see one of the eight-legged machines coming into the hangar. It moved with a horrific gait unlike any other machine or creature. Spartan lunged at the T’Kari and lost his footing. As he drifted in the air, he pulled the weapon from the T’Kari and took aim. The weapon was unfamiliar to him but was equipped with a rudimentary iron sight and trigger. He squeezed the trigger, and a blue discharge blasted out at the machine. It tore a hole through the metal but did nothing to stop it.

“Not once you fool, kill it!” growled Khan.

Spartan was spinning now, and he rotated completely around before he could fire again. This time he held down the trigger until the weapon stopped firing. It must have loosed nearly thirty rounds. It was more than enough to leave the eight-legged machine a lump of molten ruin that floated past them in the hangar.

“Okay, Spartan, I’ve had enough of this place. What now?” Khan asked, pulling his friend back to the floor.

Spartan looked to the T’Kari and tried to hand the weapon back, but the one refused and instead pulled out a small pistol from a leg holster. The other alien with its visor still closed, pointed to the doorway next to the massive room full of cylinders. It said something quickly, yet with a stern tone that was obvious even in an alien language. Spartan listened intently, as he had spent a considerable amount of time with their people. He recognized just one of the words. It was their word for exit, and he had seen it written in their own peculiar script at T’Kari research sites and on ships.

“So, they know a way out,” he said both to himself and to Khan.

His friend seemed to positively shake with excitement at this news.

“All right, let’s do this!”