Kha'Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance
The two marines waited just behind Gun, opened mouthed and speechless. The machines were exquisite designs, each completely different to the next, and each as impressive as a mighty bronze sculpture. Unlike footage they had seen from the War, these were pristine and much more elegant than the worn out war machines of the past. On'Sarax spoke first.
"These bodies perform exactly as specified, thank you, Commander. We will undergo full tests, but I am confident."
Gun smiled at seeing the familiar, yet substantially newer version of On'Sarax.
"The fabrication plant is fully functional. A few more years, and it will be ready to begin work on our comrades in deep sleep."
Again Gun nodded politely, before all eyes shifted to Z'Kanthu. Even Gun seemed nervous as he waited before the gleaming machine. It spoke slowly, as though in a dreamlike state.
"Gun, old friend."
One arm extended out, and the hand twisted the wrong way before straightening out properly.
"It is good to see you once more. I am not as I was, but I persist."
Captain Wilson had worked on the World Ship for years, and even he appeared completely stunned by what he was looking at. Entire areas of the ship had been off-limits for years, but not once had it occurred to him that Gun and the others had been helping them work on maintaining themselves and their bodies.
"You've been working on this in secret?"
Gun shrugged.
"It's their ship, and their facility. Their bodies are ancient, and the fighting in the War left them weak."
He nodded to both of them and then pointed towards On'Sarax.
"What better way to recycle their ancient armour than in the defence of this World Ship.
"Yes," said Z'Kanthu, "We will restore our domain to play our part in the new order of things. It will take time, though. I have been in slumber since my end, and Kha'Dri is still whispering to me."
Captain Wilson licked his upper lip as he listened. He had a thousand questions to ask, but before one of them could spring to mind, the ancient leader of the Biomech rebels spoke.
"Kha'Dri tells me seven of us remain. Is that so?"
On'Sarax turned to him, and a single red light pulsed. They were capable of many forms of communication, and oral transmission was perhaps the slowest. It took just a fraction of a second for them to say all they needed to before looking back at Gun.
"Commander, Kha'Dri sees all. She is now fully active and monitoring this entire sector. She tells me there are three more CTC transports in the vicinity, all heading for the Spacebridge."
Gun nodded.
"Release them. We're in no shape to keep this fight up for now."
"Very well."
Captain Wilson opened his mouth to argue, but Gun silenced him with a look.
"They can do no more here. We need to regroup, repair, rebuild, and ready ourselves for what is to come."
"The Commander is correct," said Z'Kanthu, "I have reports coming in of similar attacks throughout CTC facilities. This is a coordinated action, and part of a long-term plan. There are Alliance starships on their way to the Black Rift. They will arrive within the week. There are no CTC units within a month of this System."
A light on Z'Kanthu's body flashed white and then projected a detailed sector map in the open air between the small group. It showed Alliance controlled space, with colour dots appearing on multiple worlds, moons, and stations.
"There are more reports coming in of violent attacks on Carthago, Kerberos, Euryale, Mars, and Prometheus. CTC is attempting to break away from Alliance control."
The machine hesitated and then spoke again, this time with a subtle shift in tone.
"These attacks are no accident. There are long-range transmission showing signal traffic between Interstellar Empire units and CTC installations."
Even Gun appeared surprised at that.
"When did you hear that?"
Z'Kanthu moved what must have been his shoulder muscles, and groaned as the plate and actuators shifted.
"I communicate through Kha'Dri, and she sees all data traffic in the Helion System. Alliance naval forces are moving back to deal with the threat, and other groups are taking advantage."
There was a pause, barely perceivable, but long enough for the machine to perform trillions of calculations.
"Based on present incomplete data, my projections show a front-line deployment strength reduced by thirty-eight percent, higher in the Marine units. Whether CTC succeeds in whatever its plan is; they are removing considerable military assets from the border with the Orion Interstellar Empire."
It was the second time Z'Kanthu had used the name.
"The Interstellar what?"
The machine spoke, but the audio was much too fast. It took a few seconds before his speech returned to a more normal tempo.
"This regime, they take the name of the ancient Orion Interstellar Empire, more commonly called..."
"The Star Empire."
"Correct."
The two marines nearby listened in stunned silence as their massive, artificially created officer spoke with the ancient machine. It was a conversation that must have left them feeling like schoolchildren. The Biomechs were far more interested in speaking with Gun, though, showing little interest in even mentioning the mega corporation again, or giving the marines a cursory glance.
"Commander Gun, tell me, where is my killer? Where is Spartan?"
Both marines looked on nervously, but Gun could do little more than grin as he answered. He knew the old Biomech well enough to know when he was being intentionally obtuse. Spartan had certainly killed him, but there was no animosity between any of them. The question was, of course, related to what was happening with CTC, and the ongoing unofficial war along the Byotai border.
"He's on that old border world of Karnak, and he needs help, fast. I was intending on assembling a task force before this happened. Now the World Ship is in danger, and we have trouble of our own."
The ancient creatures hesitated, and for a second, it looked as though both had frozen. Unlike the living, when they chose to stop, they would become as still as statues, with not a sound coming from them. When Z'Kanthu finally spoke, it even made Gun shudder with surprise.
"We can secure the rest of this facility and bring it back under Alliance control. We have engineering teams, and my Thegns will provide technical support. They appear to have learnt much since their freedom from their masters....as have you."
Gun lowered his head a fraction, perhaps merely in acknowledgement, but also with a degree of mutual respect. Like the Thegn foot soldiers, he, and his own people were also part of the grand Biomech experiment. The Zealots back in the Great Uprising might have artificially created him, but all of that knowledge and technology had come from their secretive alliance with the Biomechs. In a bizarre twist of fate, Gun shared a common ancestry with Thegn, Biomech, and Human.
"Do not worry about CTC. Their limited forces are already defeated on Kha'Dri, and those that escaped will be dealt with by the Alliance. They won't try and take this place again, not with us now awake and ready for them. If any CTC personnel board Kha'Dri, they will have me to deal with."
Z'Kanthu pushed out his arms and flexed his metallic muscles, while a single red eye glowed. Every extension, twist and turn seemed like the first time he'd ever tried it. This seemed to go on forever until he stopped, and then pointed one hand towards Gun.
"I place myself at your service, Commander. What may we, The Twelve, do for you?"
Gun's mouth opened into a wide grin. He'd hoped that's what the machine would ask, and there was just one thing on his mind. The name always amused him, when he knew full well there were just seven Biomechs remaining. The name referred to another time, back during their rebellion against their kin, but few people knew that.
"Once this place is secured...come with me to Karnak, and bring Spartan back."
The alien Biomechanical creature answered without moving a single servo.
"Your wish is mine to grant. I can offer you technical and tactical support, but I will not lead."
Gun looked positively radiant as he listened.
"Would you like to confer regarding your strategy and logistics? According to Kha'Dri, we can have at least two ships ready to leave by the twenty-third day of this month. With some changes I can bring this to the nineteenth, and include a prototype transport."
Gun considered that for a moment. Before he could answer, Lieutenant Yarmuk approached, his heavy Maverick armour getting the attention of the even larger Biomech machine.
"Commander, we have an urgent distress call from Karnak. It carries the encoded signature of Syala of the Black Widows. It’s fragmentary, but not good enough to access. Apparently, it was sent several hours ago. Star Empire naval forces blocked the Spacebridge during transmission, so just the last part came through."
"Well, what is it?" Gun asked.
Z'Kanthu twisted at the neck and projected a videostream to his front. It was white and blue, but with the noise and distortion, it might easily have shown a series of explosions. Z'Kanthu made an odd series of noises as he attempted to do something with the file.
"I have the same information, a forty-seven gigabyte data stream with over eighty-eight percent data corruption. It is encoded with a secure cipher as well. This is a...problem."
The machine turned to Gun who looked rather nonplussed.
"Odd that the message comes from the mercenary, and not from Spartan. Perhaps he is dead."
That instantly caught Gun's attention. Z'Kanthu could tell Gun's mind was already drifting and did his best to settle the Commander.
"I will have our cortex examine and unravel the corruption. There is something else though that will interest you. The Spacebridge to Karnak is open, and a wide-band transmission, uncompressed and unencrypted is coming direct from Karnak. The signal strength and quality mean one thing. It is coming from the capital."
Gun suspected what this might mean, and at first when he spoke, no words were emitted. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"Very well, show us."
"As you wish, Commander."
The imagery crackled and hissed, and then showed entire divisions of the dreaded ivory-coloured soldiers lined up and waiting in silence. Mixed in with these units were even larger formations of lightly armoured soldiers and civilians, many holding up banners and homemade standards hanging limp in the gentle breeze. These units were punctuated by much smaller formations of honour guard soldiers, easily identified by the darker armour gold detailing and their long flowing cloaks. Gun snorted and began to turn away.
"Another parade, this means..."
The view shifted as an aerial camera, probably a drone, swept along the front. The imagery vanished, but when it returned, it showed a cadre of officers, flanked by more of the soldiers in crimson armour.
"Tenskwatawa!"
His expression changed further when he spotted the almost completely naked forms of seven Jötnar. Four were unfamiliar to him, but three he would have recognised anywhere. The two tallest were Olik and Khan, both of whom bore terrible wounds on their bodies. Bandages and dressings covered their wounds, but they still stood upright, firm and proud. Next to them was a shorter figure, less hurt, but a wounded prisoner nonetheless.
"Wictred," hissed Gun.
The videostream moved and then halted for a long time on a bloodied, barely recognisable man. Tenskwatawa approached, offered water to the prisoners, and then turned to look into the camera. It was all beautifully stage-managed, right down to each individual expression.
"Spartan, he lives."
Even as he stood there, his body battered and hurt, he was still able to look long and hard at Tenskwatawa. His hands clenched opened and closed, and Tenskwatawa signalled for two of his guards to tighten the bonds. Gun began to laugh, to the surprise of all.
"What amuses you?" Z'Kanthu asked.
Gun nodded to the imagery.
"Even now, Spartan speaks with us. This display is something we established ourselves, if any of us were ever captured."
"What does he says?"
Gun smiled as he answered.
"Attack, he said. Nothing more. Just attack!"
Tall banners unfurled behind the lavish displays of soldiers, bearing the two-headed reptilian iconography prevalent among the Star Empire. Gun watched with interest, but not in the people, or even the pageantry, but in the city. He already knew he was looking at Montu, and the place was much more strongly fortified than he remembered. The city lay between a ring of mountains, with a large part of the facilities partially submerged below the surface. Tall, prefabricated towers surrounded the city, and as the camera rotated from an aerial drone or aircraft, the concentric rings of walls and defences came into view.
"They have produced an impressive defensive position," said Lieutenant Yarmuk.
"Yes," agreed Gun, "And they want us to know this. Any attack from the ground will be forced to breach three layers just to reach the city inside. They've used the hill and smaller mountains as part of their defences. They have been busy."
Z'Kanthu had already performed a full analysis, based on the information shown in the transmission. He extended one arm and pointed to the site.
"They have multiple landing zones and impressive numbers of aircraft. An aerial assault will come under attack the minute it comes into range."
Gun's nose twisted as he listened, but he still looked as confident as ever. He opened his mouth to speak, stopping as multiple soldiers moved tall slabs of metal behind the dozens of prisoners. Others pulled on cables, and one by one they were fastened into position so that none could move. It took almost a minute, and when they'd finished, all of them formed a ring in the centre of the city, facing inwards towards each other.
Tenskwatawa moved into the middle of this ring, with his personal guard and others around him. He began to speak, and the translator activated almost immediately.
"Louder," said Gun.
The computerised voice missed the first few words before finishing off the short, but succinct announcement.
"These pirates, mercenaries, and war criminals will stay here as a warning to all. Nine days they shall remain until every remaining mercenary and revolutionary surrenders their arms to the local authorities. If, on the tenth day a single rebel remains, they will be executed."
Gun gave the signal for the audio to be cut.
"ANS Titan can still fly, can she not?"
Z'Kanthu answered without hesitation.
"Yes, though she is badly damaged and incapable of either combat, or an amphibious assault."
"But she can make it to Karnak?"
The machine grunted in agreement.
"Good," said Gun.
"This Tenskwatawa, he obviously wishes to force a response. By going there you risk giving him what he wants."
Gun shook his head.
"I don't care what he wants. I intend on tearing Tenskwatawa's head from his shoulders. We'll negotiate after that, and not a second before. Now...what about ground forces? My numbers are low. This attack has cost us a lot."
The machine didn't hesitate in its answer.
"Do you object to using Biomech units in combat?"
Gun flinched at the mention of the name. There were already rumours spreading in the distant colonies of Biomech collusion in the Alliance. Few understood the subtleties of the different creatures and machines, but he did. The sight of seeing Thegns or Biomech war machines in action could be enough to turn millions against the Alliance. Gun knew he should stay calm to maintain the peace and avoid conflict. But then the images of the CTC operatives killing his people appeared firmly in his mind. That, coupled with the footage from Karnak, was enough.
"I want everything. Ships, war machines, synthetics, the lot."
Gun's voice raised in volume as he rattled off everything he needed.
"If they want war, I'll give them a war they'll never forget."
Z'Kanthu didn't flinch at this.
"Very well. I will mobilise our remaining war machines and ask for volunteers among the Thegns. It would appear that The Twelve are going to war."
* * *
16km West of Montu, Karnak
3 Days Later
Syala paced back and forth along the long cliff edge that looked down into the valley. There were no visible warriors from this point, but a cursory look back into the crevices and caves systems of the mountain region showed a great swathe of warriors, yet few, if any, she could call her friends. Syala's armour had seen better days. The jump unit was long gone, and part of her shoulder armour and gorget completely broken.
"Sister, you can't bring them back. But those that remain, we can help them. Spartan, Khan, Olik, all of them."
She looked to her right where Arana approached. To anybody else they might easily have been the same person, but in temperament they could not have been more different. Arana was sensible, calm, and careful. Syala was a firebrand, and easily capable of incredible violence, without giving it too much thought.
"Yes, I know. That's not what worries me."
Arana moved closer until the twin sisters were alongside each other. She reached her side and held out her military grade secpad. The device was old and had been given to her as a keepsake by Spartan.
"What is it?"
Syala simply waited as her sister examined the data.
"What am I looking at? It looks like our attack plan."
Syala nodded.
"And we have no chance. I mean zero chance of winning this thing. What have we got exactly?"
Arana placed both hands on her sister's shoulders.
"Syala. We've gone over this. We have most of our Widows left, and Tanis and his unit are itching for a scrap. With our militia, we've got a tight unit."
She nodded towards the shallow basin that cut inside the rock like a secret lake. It was the perfect place to hide an army from prying eyes so close to the capital.
"Nakoma has almost three thousand clan warriors, all ready to fight."
"Really?" asked Syala, "Because if you ask me, they look more interested in fighting her right now."
Both looked inside their hiding place, and to the large numbers of angry and disappointed Spires warriors. Months earlier, these had been their archenemies. Now they were hiding in the same place and facing the same relentless foe. They had been arriving for days, some through the hidden passages and tunnels, others at night to avoid the larger numbers of patrols. The sole reason so many had made it was their proximity to the capital. Who but a fool would bring so many warriors to the best-defended place on the planet?
"Listen," said Arana.
The two waited as another group of Red Scars marched into to the darkened interior. The ceiling was low, but the cave easily able to accommodate thousands more if needed. Many of these warriors were asleep or resting, but one group in the middle of the formation was always on their feet. The new arrivals made directly for them, stopping just metres apart.
"Who are they?" Syala whispered.
"I don't know, but it looks like trouble. Come on."
The twins walked through the crowd of warriors. One of many rough channels between groups that now served as ad hoc pathways. They were filthy dirty and had long since lost the proud look they'd once had. All were armed, but many had lost their armour and equipment, giving them the look of something closer to an unruly mob. The two women ignored the jibes and complaints and moved ever closer until they could see what was happening.
"I don't like this," said Arana.
They reached the other side of the group so that they were the same distance from Nakoma as the new arrivals were. The female leader of the Spires Clan was on her feet and marched back and forth before the new group. Both sides exchanged barbed words, but with each passing second, more in the massive cave moved closer to listen. While some were quiet, a good number shouted encouragement for one side or another. The words were too fast and too guttural for the tech in the sisters' armour to translate, but the intentions were clear. The sisters shared a look and both reached low for their sidearms.
"It's a coup," Arana said quietly.
One by one the visitors drew blades, and Nakoma did the same. Her personal guard lifted their weapons and moved into a fighting stance. Then one of them rushed towards Nakoma from the opposite direction. The figure stormed past the sisters, only for Syala to leap in front and plunge her combat blade into the clan warrior's face. The unfortunate individual crumpled to the ground, blood bubbling from his throat. That drew a cry of rage from the crowd, and the sound of metallic blades being drawn filled the space.
"Enough of this rubbish!"
The voice boomed through the cave, and as thousands of pairs of eyes moved, the lone shape of Tanis, still attired in his bulky Blood Pack armour appeared. He moved through the crowd, forcing them to make way for fear of being crushed under his feet. On his back he carried a large piece of electronics.
"Uh...why is he carrying our stellar communications relay?"
Arana shook her head with mock amusement.
"Who knows? I didn’t get the thing working until last night."
Nakoma and those in the centre remained where they were, and several continued to spit and swear, the obvious precursor to all-out violence. One of Nakoma's guards lifted a pistol, but another gun fired first, cutting down the warrior. A new arrival turned the smoking gun towards Nakoma. Tanis stepped between them and roared like a lion claiming his territory. The strong Red Scars warrior stepped up to Tanis with his handgun still pointing straight ahead at his chest.
"Drop the gun, little man."
Tanis merely swung one arm, shattering the warrior’s wrist with the impact. The pistol fell to the floor, and the Red Scar howled in pain. Tanis then twisted at the waist and pulled the relay from his body, slamming it on the ground.
"Hey!" yelled Arana, "Easy."
Some of the Anicinàbe moved back, but not Nakoma. She looked as hard and as cruel as always. Tanis hit the button on the side, and the unit projected a short, corrupted image of a familiar face.
"Gun!" said Syala.
Tanis grinned at her recognition. Nakoma hissed and then spoke in her own tongue. With no people to translate for them, Syala and Arana had to wait for their internal systems to do the work.
"He is far from here. What does he want?"
Tanis pushed a single button, and audio emitted from the device. The image shifted a little but showed no more than a crackling, broken file.
"...the walls. I will be there... seventeenth..."
Once the translators had done their work, Nakoma shook her head.
"Who will be where? And what is the seventeenth?"
Syala and Arana looked to each other. Arana finally spoke.
"Nakoma, Gun is coming, and he wants us ready at the walls."
She listened intently, as did many of the other clan leaders and warriors. The mention of the walls seemed to get her interest.
"Why? We will be in sight, and you've seen the drone footage. The enemy is entrenched and has cleared the ground around the walls. If we approach, we will be easy targets."
Others began to shout in agreement, and the jostling between factions continued again. Tanis roared loudly, and this time every single one of them stopped speaking.
"Gun is a legend, and he will be here in just a few days. Nine days in your reckoning on this planet. We know it by another name."
Arana leaned in towards him and spoke quietly.
"That makes it...the seventeenth of December, is that right?"
Tanis nodded. "Yes."
He then looked up to the crowd and turned slowly so that they all could see his massive, armoured bulk.
"We will be at the walls on the seventeenth, as the sun rises and fills the mountains."
A newcomer marched before him and spat at Tanis' feet.
"Oops," said Syala.
Tanis was perhaps the least diplomatic of all the Blood Pack. He might accept the odd insult here and there, but spitting to his feet was tantamount to a physical attack. He reached out, grabbed the Red Scars leader by the neck, and with a single action snapped it. As he released the flesh, the broken body dropped to the ground, lifeless.
"With the dawn of the seventeenth, Commander Gun will arrive. He will bring such armies as you have never seen."
He pointed up to the ceiling and tried to ignore the smiling face of Syala. She'd heard the exact same speech before just an hour earlier, when they'd been rehearsing it.
"The sky will blacken with ships, and the city will burn from the flames of our machines."
He pointed to each of the factions until his hand stopped in from of Nakoma, the cruel, twisted, and brilliant leader of the Spires Clan.
"Then you will breach the walls and sack the city. You will have booty, ships, and slaves. But there is something more you will win, under Nakoma's leadership."
Some at the back shouted, but only those nearest could be properly translated.
"What will we win?"
Tanis winked at Syala, and then roared the answer each of them wanted to hear.
"Revenge!"