Slaves of Hyperion (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 6) (13 page)

Don’t I have something scheduled for later?

His thinking about the Marine Corps and the fleet reminded him of the Admiral and his promise. He brought up his notes on his datapad device and found the last
message about visiting the ship designers with the Admiral. He’d managed to put it off for over a week, but any longer and there would be repercussions.

How long have I got?
He wondered before groaning upon seeing he had less than two hours.
Damn, what can I add to a discussion on shipbuilding?

An image formed in his mind of the Santa Cruz, the ship he had probably spent the most harrowing of his time on. The more he thought about the ship, the less he could remember any details he thought might be of use. What could he add when it came to engines, armour, cabins or facilities? He sighed at the thought of being stuck in a room where he was forced to talk about such things. A noise distracted him, and it took a few seconds to realise it was the Jötnar sat opposite him talking.

“
Spartan?” she asked, evidently not the first time.

“Uh, yes?” he replied.

“
Spartan, what do you think
then
?” asked Osk.

Spartan turned to see her showing him an image of a heavily modified L48 rifle of the type Spartan had used extensively in the War. The grip and stock were much larger than normal and seemingly altered for use by the oversized hands of the Jötnar. He had to force himself not to laugh at the completely different levels of conversation between the juvenile and the mature Jötnar. But it gave him a thought, and the more he considered it, the more he realised how they changed over time. Then he noticed her looking at him, waiting patiently for his response on what must be an important issue to her. He looked at the weapon for a few seconds, leaned back and looked at her.

“Very nice, I’ve not seen this version before, and L48 if I’m not mistaken, but heavily modified. Who’s working on these weapons?”

Khan leaned over the counter with a large glass of a dark red liquid. He threw back a mouthful before speaking.

“Our own engineers,” he said with obvious pride.

Spartan raised an eyebrow, both impressed and surprised to hear the Jötnar had come on so far that not only did they understand the use of the equipment, but that they were now actively involved in the manufacture and modification of weapons.

“Jötnar engineers and Jötnar females. Things are changing for your people.”

“Indeed. Commander Anderson had negotiated much of the old site for our use. We’ve been very busy!” he replied and threw back half the contents of the glass.

Spartan’s mind was rushing ahead as he imagined hundreds, perhaps thousands of these creatures, working away in the hot underground environment of Prometheus. Anderson must have pushed hard to allow them to use the space, especially as large parts of the complex were being used to manufacture Alliance equipment up to the size of small ships.

“What about the Alliance shipyards and factories?” he asked.

Khan looked confused at the question.

“Jötnar are working in them as well.”

Spartan said nothing for a while as he sat there with the two Jötnar. The situation on Prometheus was confusing to him. It seemed the Jötnar had been allotted space on the planet as well as equipment and facilities. Perhaps as part payment, they were working with Commander Anderson and his Alliance engineers. The thought of the facilities brought back the report he said he would look at. It had been days ago, and so far
he’d tried to read it several times before going to sleep
. Unfortunately, a
t almost eleven hundred pages, it was just too much to digest along with everything else
he had to deal with. He opened it up and skimmed through the table of contents. There were columns of unintelligible technical points, but one caught his eye. It was ‘Biomech
Internment Schedule’.

“Hey, Khan. What’s happening with the Biomech camps on Prometheus?”

Khan looked back to him with an expressionless look.

“The old ones are locked up. Young ones are being trained by other Jötnar.”

“Trained?” replied Spartan, now intrigued by the idea.

“Yes, trained. Some for warriors, others for work in factories, making food, helping Alliance build things.”

Spartan looked back to the report and read a little further. There were many tables of figures with most outlining the numbers of surviving Biomechs and their internment camps throughout the Alliance. Prometheus was the home to over ten thousand, but other sites were holding just as many. A quick scan of all the ships, stations and colonies brought him to a staggering figure. He looked back to Khan.

“Do you know many Biomechs and Jötnar are left in the Alliance?”

Khan shrugged.

“No. When a Biomech understands Jötnar, they can join us. Then they are Jötnar, like me. Gun said we have more Jötnar on Prometheus than all the marines,” he explained and then grinned to Spartan. “So says Ko’mandor Gun.”

Spartan looked back to the document and read further. The bit that gave him a sick feeling was when he reached a section on the early Biomechs. Two new terms were being touted, and it concerned him. Rather than the universal and easily understood Biomech
,
they were now being known as mutations or experiments. Both implied something dangerous, and the recommendations in most cases were destruction or testing of the specimens. It was the easy language of those that treated the creatures with a casual disregard.

Bastards,
he thought with disgust.

“Hey, you two want to go to this meeting with the Admiral? He wants to talk about ship designs.”

To his surprise they both nodded furiously in agreement. He was a little confused and unsure as to what to say. If it were anybody else, he would have assumed they were joking, but humour was an art the Jötnar were still learning to use.

“Uh, okay. Finish your drinks and we’ll head over there.”

* * *

The Alliance Naval Architects Department was like no other place Spartan has visited before. The underground rail system had taken them on the short ten-minute journey to the complex deep inside the research and development wing of the Military Academy. Gone were the old fashioned marble buildings, to be replaced by stone and glass. Scores of uniformed personnel watched him as the decorated Lieutenant marched past with two Jötnar in tow. This particular part of the department consisted of a long, wide glass corridor with glass rooms off to each side. They walked briskly to a set of tall double doors at the far end. Once inside, he could see the size of the main foyer, with its dozens of personnel, computers and scale models of scores of different ship designs.

“Where now?” asked Khan who was becoming impatient.

In the centre of the room was a circular desk manned by three women, each of them impeccably dressed in their new style dark blue Alliance uniforms. Spartan approached the desk and beckoned for the two Jötnar to follow. As he reached it, the nearest looked up at him and smiled before spotting the two creatures. Her smile turned quickly to discomfort. Khan started to laugh.

“Looks like she hasn’t met my people before!”

Osk chortled in amusement at her discomfort, and Spartan was forced to interject before it got out of control.

“These are official representatives of our allies, the Jötnar. This is Captain Khan and this is Osk. I am Lieutenant...”

“Spartan?” she interrupted in a clipped and almost artificial voice. She smiled at him and touched her hair with her left hand.

“We’ve heard of your...reputation, Lieutenant. Perhaps you would like a refreshment?”

She stood to go and get him something, but Spartan lifted his hand to refuse.

“Thank you, but our time is limited. Can we see the Admiral?”

The young woman looked disappointed, as did her two comrades who both watched him with interest.

What the hell is going on in this place?
He wondered.

She pressed several buttons on her computer system while continuing to smile at him. It didn’t take long before her face changed to evident disappointment.

“Oh, the Admiral would like to see you immediately in the simulation room.”

Spartan raised an eyebrow.

“Which is where?”

The woman laughed nervously, but Spartan could see it was nothing but clumsy flirting. She lifted her left hand and pointed to a long glass entrance in a dark corner. Spartan nodded politely and made his way to the door.

“If I can help you with anything at all, please come and see me,” she added as he moved away.

Spartan shook his head in amusement at the emphasis on the word ‘anything’. He made it to the door only for a green beam to shine down and scan him and his two Jötnar comrades. It only took a few seconds, and with a low beep the doors opened to reveal blackness. Spartan stepped inside and the Jötnar followed closely behind. No sooner were they inside did the door hiss shut behind and the lights altered slightly. Spartan moved forward and through a generated black wall into a long room. Inside was a sunken space, almost like a small stage. Around it sat a dozen men and women. Some wore military uniforms, others lab coats, and two wore suits.

“Lieutenant, glad you could make it!” said Admiral Churchill with genuine pleasure.

 
The two men shook hands, and Spartan turned to introduce the two Jötnar. The Admiral shook both of their hands, indicating for them to join him to a raised seating area overlooking the sunken stage area. Once sat down, he spoke in almost hushed tones.

“You might have already guessed that I didn’t ask you here to just talk about ship modifications.”

Spartan looked even more confused than the Jötnar at this comment. He moved back slightly in his seat before replying.

“Uh, well, I’m not quite sure what you mean, Admiral.”

“Well, I have been commissioned by the Senate to come up with a new class of ship, a craft that will become a universal warship for use in all kinds of operations. The Navy is to have its capital ships slashed to a total of thirty. That is a fraction of the size we are used to. Instead of battleships, cruisers and transports, they want a more economical class that can engage other ships, land troops and reinforce ground operations.”

Spartan was shocked at the number.

“Thirty ships? I thought we had a Navy of nearly three hundred ships?”

The Admiral nodded.

“Yes, but over half are due to be decommissioned due to age or damage, and that number also includes small vessels like destroyers and frigates. The smaller craft are not the issue; the plan is to rush a new vessel into production in the next twelve months to replace cruisers, marine transports and battleships. Any slower, and we’ll be forced to rely on broken down and failing vessels. Nine ships are being decommissioned this very month. We need replacements and fast. If we build different classes, we’ll face a major capability gap. I don’t need the best, but I need as good as we can get at everything, and fast.”

He looked at the three of them, and each looked as confused as the next.

“The basic recommendations have always been agreed by Navy High Command, a ship of about the size of an Achilles class cruiser with similar firepower. More powerful engines and the capacity to carries up to five hundred marines or a similar sized flight group. A flight deck to handle the landing craft when used for marines or gunboats, and fighters when configured for carrier operations.”

Spartan looked both impressed and surprised at the information.

“That is, well, optimistic. Can you deliver that level of miniaturisation into a single ship in the time you have?”

“We have to. The design will be flexible so that each ship can simply alter its crew and craft on board depending on the mission. So some can be used as pure marine transports, like Santa Maria, while others will operate aircraft and perform as carriers.”

“I assume they can do both with a smaller unit of marines and aircraft as well?”

“Exactly, you understand the plan, Lieutenant. Now, what I need is any advice you can offer as experienced ground troops. What worked and what didn’t aboard the Santa Cruz? I already have information from scores of experienced Navy personnel, but now I have one of the Alliance’s most respected marines and two of our best cousins, the vaunted warrior Jötnar.”

“Yes!” roared Khan with undeniable pleasure.