The Great Betrayal (8 page)

“What are the options today?” he asked glumly.

The tall black marine behind the counter grinned with a gleeful expression.

“Private, we’ve got the best for you today. Lamb casserole, chicken in herbs, and today’s special, chili con carne.”

Jack looked at each in turn and gave up. He just grabbed at the first piping hot bowl and moved to
one of the long tables where Wictred and three other marines were sitting. He moved around the table and sat on the opposite side to face him. He looked down at the portion of lamb casserole and breathed in the taste. It was served in a white bowl and gave off a faint green hue from the broccoli and vegetable bouillon. Pieces of meat and carrot floated about to give it a less than appealing look. Jack took a spoonful, chewed, and then swallowed it down.

“Nice?” asked Wictred with a wide grin.
 

Jack took another mouthful and watched as the rest of his new squad sat down. At first it was just a handful, and then as quickly as the first sat down, the rest were there and making themselves comfortable. There were thirteen of them in total, and each acknowledged Corporal Wictred as they sat down. He looked about the canteen, recalling his time many months ago when the ship had been fresh and brand new.
Although the exterior and systems of ANS
Conqueror had been fully repaired and improved, the interior sections had seen far less time spent on them. The canteen showed signs of electrical scarring, and the patched bullet holes on one of the walls had been filled and painted in such a hurry, the marks were still visible.

“It could do with more salt,” he answered finally.

Wictred had been promoted following the Helios incident and was now the senior corporal in the squad. That meant he was responsible for the other twelve that made up the three fireteams, as well as liaising with their platoon commander.

“So,” started Wictred, “we screwed that one up, and Sergeant Stone wants improvement.”

Private Jana Jenkell, the squad’s medic spoke first. Her jet-black hair had been cut short, and her dark blue eyes almost matched the color. Her faced was grim, and as Jack glanced at her, he wondered if he’d ever seen her smile. As she spoke, he remembered she was the new one with the stutter.

“Well, they set off the bomb because they were able to activate a trigger. Why not eliminate that ability?”

Frewyn, the oldest of the group shook his head. He was stoutly built and spoke with a common accent that gave the impression he was far less intelligent than he actually was.

“How exactly would we do that?”

Jack swallowed another piece of lamb and then spoke.

“Gas or a stunner of some kind.”

Private Riku laughed at this idea. Of all those, seated she was the most unusual looking. Tall and attractive, she could easily have been a model if it hadn’t been for a hideous scar that ran down her face. There was something else that in Jack’s opinion made her probably the ugliest woman he’d met; it was her miserable fixed expression.

“You have one of those lying about, Private?”

“You’re such an asshat,” said Private Jenkell.

The young woman took another mouthful of her lunch and laughed at the taller and more attractive woman. Several of the others sniggered at her insult, and it was clear that Riku had few real friends in the unit.

Jack looked at Private Riku with the same kind of irritation Private Jenkell had and shook his head with a look of disinterest. Once more Private Riku displayed a look that bordered on contempt of him. Wictred had told him it was how he imagined a woman chewing a wasp would look like. Jack smiled as he thought of that, and then spotted her watching him. He lifted an eyebrow, and she scowled in return.

Would it kill her to smile? Maybe.

Jack recalled the last three conversations he’d had with her, and they'd always ended up the same. No matter the subject, it reverted to her, as if she always had an experience that trumped the rest. She loved complements and seemed to ask questions and make comments designed to make people feel obliged to add something nice about her. Amusingly, this never appeared to work. It seemed to encourage bitterness amongst the rest of the marines with almost every word that came out of her mouth, and that encouraged her to try even harder.

“Good attitude, Private Riku. What would you do then? Oh, I remember, you waited at the back.”

She scowled at him, and he nodded as if thanking her for some kind of concealed complement.

“You’re most welcome,” he added, much to her annoyance.

A tall, wide man, looking more like a wrestler than a marine, scratched at his nose before speaking. His face had been burned badly in the past, and he had a number of marks and scarring running from his left ear down to his chin. His lip was slightly squashed and of them all, he looked as though he’d been in a number of fights.

“You have an idea, Corporal?” Wictred asked.

The big man nodded.

“Yeah, we have a few options if we don’t want to lose people. What if we take in a hostage of our own and send them in, right in front of them and in plain view.”

“Nice,” announced Jack at the idea.

“Good idea, Callahan,” said Wictred, “So either we use a form of nerve agent to incapacitate the target, or we use a decoy of our own. Those are both options that could save marines.”

“There is one more,” said Jack.

Private Riku shook her head as he spoke.

“We could make sure we kill them all this time.”

* * *

Spartan and Khan clung to the interior of the bomb bay fitted to the bulbous flank of the aged bomber, as it continued on its course toward the increasingly large shape of the space station. By all accounts, it was larger than any ship either of them had ever seen. Spartan guessed it must be around fifty percent larger than a Confederate battleship from the previous war. The station moved off to the right and then vanished from view for a moment.

Hold on, whatever you do.

Both of them were attached via improvised harnesses they had taken from the small crew area in the middle of the bomber. Without it, they would have been thrown about as the craft moved. They had set the spacecraft on a spinning course that while slow in its rotation, still gave the impression the craft was out of control; either because of internal damage or more likely the crew had been incapacitated. Although the bomb bay was sealed, it lacked heating or an independent air supply. Spartan was okay, as he had been able to fit inside one of the crew’s emergency space suits. Khan, on the other hand, was forced to use one of the spare oxygen units and helmet; the rest of his body would have to manage as it was. Spartan just hoped the doors would stay closed and sealed because exposure outside of the spacecraft would kill Khan in less than a minute.

“Spartan, you think this will work?” asked Khan. His voice rasped from inside the mask, and Spartan could tell he was already feeling the cold. It was probably the tenth time his old friend had asked the same question, and once more he was forced to encourage him.

“Of course, when do my plans not work?”

Khan sniggered to himself, both of them were well aware that Spartan’s plans were far from perfect. In Khan’s experience, they always required a little extra muscle to make them work. He looked up and at the side of the space station as once more they spun about to face it.

“What’s stopping them from seeing us?”

It was a good question, but Spartan had thought of that already.

“Look, we’re next to the damaged bomb mount. There are fuel leaks and electrical damage all around here. Unless they examine this section with advanced scanners, they’ll miss us. Anyway, why bother looking?”

It was true. With the spacecraft drifting through space, it presented no great problem and could easily be left alone to continue its path out into the black void of space. On its current trajectory, it would pass right between the Rift and the station. The bomb bay was completely sealed from the exterior of the ship until opened to give access to its internal bays. There were four small windows, each no bigger than a man’s hand, at the far end to give engineers visual access for loading and maintenance. It wasn’t much but enough to allow them a good view out of the spacecraft and toward the station. It was when Khan was looking through the nearest window that he spotted it.

“Spartan, look.”

He nodded to his left and kept his movement to a minimum. It wasn’t that he was clinging to the outside of the bomber, but he was familiar enough with the various scanners onboard Alliance vessels to know they could detect heat changes, and that could easily be taken for movement.

“What is it?” Spartan asked, moving to the window and looking out.

He could see the shape of the Biomech transport ship as it moved toward them. It immediately filled him with dread. It was larger than the bomber, but nothing the size of the cruiser that had been pursuing them. There were two small drones attached to its dorsal armor, neither had been detached. Instead, it moved into position underneath them and then even closer.

“See, I said it would work,” Spartan said.

Khan smiled inwardly but could sense the relief in this friend’s voice. The vessel took nearly five minutes to finish moving into position and matched their rotation before it connected using some form of grav clamp. Once joined, they could feel a slight jolt as the ship’s engines activated, and their course was corrected. Another minute later, and they were heading directly for the station, the cruiser waiting not far from where it must have released its spacecraft. It took them to the right of the station where three docking mounts were located. As they approached, the two were able to get a good look at the exterior of the metallic construction.

“Seen anything like this before?”

Spartan moved his head slowly.

“Nope, this isn’t ours, and it doesn’t look like the gear the T’Kari use either.”

“Biomech?”

Spartan tried to shrug but found it hard to move the muscles while also trying to be as quiet and still as possible. There were no windows on the outer parts of the structure, but as with most stations, there were a large number of antenna and communication masts that extended in almost every single direction. Spartan looked at the individual details but finally concentrated his attention on one small part near the airlock. It looked like a spider but on closer examination was a dry dock. Underneath it were three large buildings, each almost big enough to house one of the new Alliance frigates. There were also a dozen gantries and sat atop them were Biomech drone fighters, much like the ones that had attacked them during their escape.

“Yeah, that sells it.”

Khan looked in the same direction and recognized the shape of a Biomech ship, like they’d seen while on board the T’Kari Raider many months earlier. Every second brought them closer, and the size of the ship increased until they could appreciate the scale.

“It’s got to be one of those carriers,” Khan said.

The shape was certainly familiar, but this wasn’t as big as the mighty cruiser class ships they had seen before. These were something closer to the smaller escorts and scouting ships used by the military. Along the side of the hull were markings and a black shape of some kind of snake beast. Spartan sighed at the sight of the shape.

“Echidna.”

He looked irritated but not surprised.

“Man, why can we never shake these guys? We keep finding them.”

Khan looked at it for a second and started to speak while watching the ship.

“At least that tells us who they are. This must mean we’re at a Biomech outpost.”

Spartan took several short gulps of air and felt an immediate rush of cold oxygen in his chest. It felt like heartburn, but he ignored it, knowing very well his friend was in far more discomfort than him.

“Even so, this is hardly well protected. What do we have? One Rift, a control station, and a shipyard with a couple of ships and a dozen drones. Hell, I’d say this is a way station for long-range ships.”

“Maybe,” replied Khan. His voiced lacked conviction.

It was another thirty minutes before they reached the docking mount. They drifted into position, and the bomber shuddered as they were locked into place. At this range, they could make out every single detail, and the more they looked, the more alien the place appeared. The base was static, and on the way the spacecraft interacted there was no form of artificial gravity. As they waited, Khan spotted movement.