Star Crusades Nexus: Book 03 - Heroes of Helios (32 page)

“I see,” said General Rivers finally, “It looks like we have a war whether we like it or not.”

The story of Spartan took a drastic turn over the course of the exploration of the Orion Nebula. Most in the Alliance assumed he was dead, or at the very least captured by the enemy following the mysterious Rift Incident in T’Kari space. There were some though that waited and prayed for his return and for his inevitable vengeance, small groups that knew that if the legendary warrior were ever to return, the face of the entire sector would be changed forever.

The Rise of Spartan

Spartan opened his eyes and saw that once more he was in the interrogation room. This time, however, there was a man present. He tilted his head to the right. It couldn’t go far, but he could see the shape of Khan tied down on the flat panel beside him. As he moved, he could feel the metal strap on his right arm wobbled slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was a degree of movement he hadn’t expected. The man approached and leaned in close to his face.

“Spartan, hero of the Alliance. Are you ready?”

Spartan recognized the man’s face instantly.

“Typhon, you bastard!”

He tensed his muscles slightly and felt the metal move.

This is a chance. You have to take it!

The man looked at him with merciless eyes, the face of a man he knew he had seen die already in the flames of Terra Nova in the last days of the Uprising. At a short distance away in the background was one of the machines. This was the smaller yellow one, a model he only recalled seeing twice before. It was thickly armored and like the others appeared to have no weapons.

“We have no more time for your games, Spartan. This is your last chance. Our forces are poised to strike at the heart of your worlds from a thousand hiding places. Give us what we want, and your planets will be spared.”

He summoned as much saliva as he could manage and spat into the man’s face.

“You’re no man. You’re just another of these machines’ creations.”

He pulled with his right arm and felt the metal break.

“When I make it home, I will bring destruction to every one of your allies. Their worlds will be turned to ash, and I will place your head on a pike!”

With a single firm wrench, he snapped his arm out from the manacle and found it completely free. Typhon was caught completely off guard when Spartan leaned forward and smashed his fist into the man’s cheek. He staggered back while Spartan tore at the straps and metal fittings. His damaged limbs and injuries sent pangs of pain through his body, but adrenalin mixed with desperation kept him going. Before he even realized it, he was up and on his weak legs. The yellow machine lumbered toward him, evidently expecting an easy fight.

“Khan!” he called out to his friend who still lying prone and not moving.

There was no response, so he looked about for something he could use.

I’ll have to take care of this myself.

Spartan felt strong though and grabbed at the tools and equipment until finding a metal fitting. It was nothing fancy, but it was almost a meter long and heavier at one end. He ducked past the machine’s first strike and brought it down on the back of the arm. It clanged with a dull thud but did no immediate damage. Spartan was nothing if persistent and lifted it again to bring it down another four times, shattering the joints. He had the satisfaction of seeing the arm clatter down to the ground. The machine floundered about and called out in some strange machine language. Spartan took the opportunity to limp to Khan and smash away at his manacles. Nothing happened, and for a second, Spartan experienced an unfamiliar feeling of desperation, then he realized they were simple lock straps as used in fighters and transports for the crew.

Where the hell did they get those?

He pulled on the quick release buttons, and they popped off with a clicking sound. The straps must have been pulled down tight because Khan seemed to grow nearly twenty-five percent at the release of pressure. Spartan had no time for pleasantries. He could feel the air moving and ducked down to avoid the second arm of the machine. It struck hard at him. The metal limb crashed into the wall behind and tore a chunk out that dropped to the ground. Spartan turned about and faced off against the machine. It was larger, metal, and more powerful, yet the two were mismatched in all the wrong ways. Though the machine was strong, the mind behind it seemed completely inept in the art of violence. Spartan, on the other hand, was a monster, consumed by desperation and rage. He reached down; lifted up the shattered limb he had broken off earlier, and raised it above his head.

“I…have had…enough of you!” he roared.

The wounded, broken, and aged figure of Spartan seemed transformed at the single chance of freedom. He charged at the stupefied machine with every remaining ounce of speed and power he could muster. The robotic foe even managed to strike Spartan, yet with all the man’s anger, it appeared to have no effect. Even as blood sprayed from a new wound to his chest, he continued to rain down blow after blow until the yellow machine lay smashed on the ground.

“Spartan?”

Khan stumbled onto his feet and looked about dazed. He was in much better condition than Spartan, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Yeah, I’m here, old friend.”

Khan looked down at the machine and started to laugh.

“That didn’t take you long, did it?”

Spartan grinned, trying to ignore the searing pains now starting to spread through his body as the adrenalin surge began to subside.

“We don’t have long. Do you remember the way to this room?”

Khan nodded happily and reached out to rest his hand on Spartan’s shoulder.

“Spartan, I can remember more than that. Through that door, we can reach the landing pad and their transports.”

Spartan didn’t look particularly impressed.

“Think we can do it?”

Khan looked about the room. After finding nothing, simply bent down and tore a metal leg from one of the tables to use as a simple club. He swung it once and caught the light fitting by accident. It exploded and sent fragments of hot plastic around them. Spartan shook his head as he watched. Khan stopped and then rested it on his shoulder.

“Who cares? I’ve had it with this place. Today we either make it, or we die. Agreed?”

Spartan nodded, and for the first time in weeks, perhaps months, he felt alive. His blood was pumping, and the memories of Teresa and his son Jack flooded back to give him even the smallest glimmer of hope.

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

The three machines watched the screen with emotionless glances. The red machine with rusted, heavily worn features around its feet and joints tilted its thick helm toward the other two.

“Didn’t I tell you? He is magnificent.”

The others said nothing for a few seconds. Finally, the dull red model nodded toward the shape of their smashed yellow companion. Spartan and Khan had left the room, but not before Spartan had finished off the wounded Typhon.

“I thought he was supposed to take him as a prisoner?”

The red machine tilted its head, though with no eyes or face, it was unable to demonstrate amusement or emotion of any kind.

“We can make another. It does not matter. Spartan is the one.”

As if on cue, the two broke out into a wide passageway where several Biomech servants were caught by surprise. These were wholly biological, yet weak, smaller, and even less substantial than the races of the T’Kari or the Helions. They tried to stop the prisoners, but a few simple yet brutal hacks sent them to the ground. Even a single Biomech warrior was torn apart by Khan. Nothing would stop them now. The red machine nodded with obvious satisfaction.

“Excellent, the first phase of the plan is complete. Make sure their route is clear. I want them back with their people within the month.”

It then turned from the screen as if it showed no interest anymore. Instead, he looked at his two comrades.

“Our time is nearly at an end. Return to your fleets and move them into position. We strike at the opposition of Helios.”

It was a simple time measurement and would occur when the two largest planets in the star system of Helios aligned with their star. They already knew this. It had been planned now for many years, and none of the three could quite believe that their time had finally come. They touched their torsos with their mechanical arms and turned to leave. One machine stopped and looked back at his leader.

“We have waited too long for this. Goodbye, brother.”

With those final words, they left the control room, with its myriad of displays and computer equipment. Only the red machine stayed in the room, alone, and without guards or company of any kind. He moved back to the display to watch the escape of Khan and Spartan.

Soon I will be dead, and you, Spartan, yes, you will be the Hero of Helios.

He thought for a moment, imagining the future he had dreamed of now for millennia. He imagined the burning of enemy worlds and the opening of the great seal, the Black Rift in space that imprisoned his dying race. On the screen, the two prisoners had already made it to the landing deck where a variety of captured fighters and machines waited. He smiled to himself as they made for one of the battered looking Confederate bombers. He accessed the memory store in his armored suit that showed him the footage of the raid on a human convoy in the middle of their war over two decades earlier. He had personally supervised the destruction of four capital ships and thousands of humans. It was the bomber that amused him the most though. Its last mission had been a bombing run on this very ship that he now occupied. Now its crew were long dead, and it would serve a greater purpose, though this time it would be for him, not the Confederacy or even the Alliance.

Yes, Spartan, after all of this bloodshed, you alone will be the savior of my people. As your Alliance burns to ashes, my people will be reborn.