 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Upon this Stage (Prologue 1)
Date: 22 May 2002, 4:53 pm
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Premier, it should be noted that the fringe regions grow weary of this imperium enforced upon us by the Sol dominated hegemony. The time rapidly approaches when words will be useless and only the course of action remains."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"It should also be noted, Senator, that one might be more careful when choosing one's words in front of the Interplanetary Congress, lest they be considered treasonous."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Treason implies a breach of trust, Madame Premier. Something most certainly lacking here."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝ- Portion of official transcript taken May 14, 2771 during the 43rd Interplanetary Congressional session between Premier Gameela of Sol [Interior] and Senator Calydon of Taygetus II [Fringe].
ÝÝÝÝÝFunny how one moment a situation can be so obviously bad, and yet minutes, days, hours or even years later we look back to find the exact opposite to be true. Not the truth we knew initially, but the actual truth that unfortunately only comes from the detachment of time.
ÝÝÝÝÝThat's how it was with the Covenant War. Billions perished in fire and bloodshed that lasted over 30 years, extending from the farthest reaches of human colonization to the very doorstep of Sol, and the prize of humanity; the aqua and green jewel called Earth. We were bloodied and battered without relent, and the vast portion of an entire generation lived and died without ever knowing a life free of the Covenant menace. But then, as so often happens in fairy-tales and legend, but with precious rarity in reality, a hero amongst hero's emerged. ÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝCaptain Jacob Keyes of the former United Nations Space Council Navy engaged his warship, the medium cruiser Pillar of Autumn in a pitch battle around the colonial world of Reach. Despite his best efforts, the Covenant forces handily defeated the human fleet, sacking Reach in the process, with the PoA one of the few survivors of the disaster. Initiating the Cole directive, which prevented the PoA from assuming a course anywhere near an Earth trajectory, Captain Keyes, along with the ships artificial personality construct Cortana engaged in a random FTL jump out of the system to an as of yet unknown location. Strangely, in an action that continues to defy all human logic, the entire Covenant battlefleet followed, dissapearing into the infinite void of space, the charred shell of Reach the only testament to their passage through the system. Humanity had recieved a second chance at existence thanks to the actions of Jacob Keyes and the crew of the Pillar of Autumn. Unfortunately, the greatest hero of the time, a mechanically augmented soldier known only as John 117 would not come to be known in human space for hundreds of years, until a lone Longsword fighter from Earth's early colonial period would be found floating in space, riding the shockwave of an expanding ring of gas and debris from some unknown nova. That, however, is a story for another time, and back we return to set our scene.
ÝÝÝÝÝNo historian will disagree that the Covenant War was perhaps the most perilous time in human history, that in any other time were we closer to the brink of destruction as an entire species than when Reach was charred to bedrock, but this is only because they do not yet have the gift of hindsight and the accommodations of time. Undeniably we were fighting and dying by the millions in 2536, but we were fighting and dying united. For a brief period in time there was no political infighting on Earth or between the colonies; for a scant 40 years during and following the war there were no violent eruptions between political parties or governments; between blacks and whites; the rich and the poor. We were no longer crackers, niggers, chinks or wops; queers and fairies, dykes and homos; we weren't even Americans and Britains, Chinese or Russians, we were human beings united behind a common cause: the salvation of mankind. It was almost beautiful.
ÝÝÝÝÝWhen the Covenant menace suddenly dissapeared from the collective screens of a dozen ships and worlds, civilization across billions of miles suddenly came to a complete standstill. No one knew what to expect, it had to be some insidious ploy by the enemy to lure us into one final, crushing defeat, and like the beaten child that we were, we cowered in fear of the coming blows...but they never came. Within days, what surviving exploration craft we had were traversing the vastness of space, outward to the farthest of our former colonies, always searching for some sign of Covenant ships hiding in the gravity shadow of a planet, or within the burning halo of fiery stars. It is not to be said that we found nothing, rather the exact opposite is to be true. The following is a brief trascript taken from the UNSC exploratory and survey vessel Hermes to her forward command ship, Fading Twilight.
Hermes: Twilight, this is Hermes, designation UNSC-ES-36941, approaching the Tegean system, over.
Twilight: Designation confirmed, Hermes, Tegea had 2 colony worlds, Tegea Prime and Mantinea. Both are listed as destroyed, but you know the drill. Intel says there was a forward spacedock operating between the two planets, they suggest you give that a pass before continuing to next assigned location.
Hermes: Roger, Twilight, we'll see what's happening.
ÝÝÝÝÝThere is a thirty minute silence here, as Hermes navigates into a stationary orbit around the outermost planet, Mantinea. When contact is resumed, it is Fading Twilight that initiates:
Twilight: Hermes, we're getting scattered reports from other teams in your area that some of their colony worlds are reporting unusually high energy levels. Over.
Hermes: Twilight, we're not getting anything from Mantinea, but gamma is picking up more than background radiation from the planet, something's glowing down there all right.
Twilight: Copy that, Hermes. Request that you begin direct visual transmission.
Hermes: Understood, we're deploying two of the Lancet's now, visual feed should be up in just a minute.
ÝÝÝÝÝSeveral clicks can be heard, likely from the Hermes' Communication Officer as he directs a visual feed over to Fading Twilight.
Hermes: There you go, Twilight, how's it look from your end?
Twilight: Everything's good here, Hermes, stand by.
ÝÝÝÝÝAt this point, the Lancet pilots break in on the transmission, crossing the visual feed also crossed the shortwave channels over to the longrange broadcaster antennae. The two scoutcraft are broadcasting indirectly through Hermes to Fading Twilight. Unfortunately a visual feed is not available at the current time, however we may infer what is happening through the conversation.
Lancet 1: Holy shit, take a look at that.
Hermes: Lancet, be advised you are on an open feed, watch the chatter. Twilight, what do you make of this?
Twilight: We're just seeing this in two other systems, Hermes. Our initial guess is that these were the forward operating points for their warships.
Hermes: But you don't refit battlecruisers on a planet...these are surface colonies. Request permission to drop Lancets into the atmosphere for a closer visual inspection, Twilight.
Twilight: Denied. Captain is on the horn with the Brass on Earth, they're saying sit tight. Observe with instruments only, nobody knows what's going on down there, yet. Confirm.
Hermes: Understood, Twilight.
Lancet 2: There are four more (colonies) on the darkside, Hermes, we can see the lights from here. Looks like they still have power.
Lancet 1: Automated?
Hermes: We'll have a complete analysis in less than two minutes, computer's crunching the numbers now. Finish one more rotation then come on in, there's not much more you can do for the time being.
Lancet 1: Roger, completing orbit and we're heading home, over and out.
Hermes: Twilight, scan complete. It looks like the Covvies aren't entirely gone...just the fleet. Computer indicates we've got about 119,000 separate contacts down there.
Twilight: Looks like things might get interesting, Hermes. Let's see what Fleet has to say about this.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe recording stops again, as Hermes concentrates her attention on the planet surface, and Fading Twilight sends the word up to Fleet Command on Earth that one of their scoutships has located what looks to be a Covenant colony. Filtering through the ranks, the message finally reaches the UNSC Joint Chiefs of Staff, headed by Fleet Admiral JonÈa. Their decision is unanimous, Tegea Prime and the surrounding system is to be returned to UNSC control, and all Covenant presence in the area is to be eliminated, orders executable immediately.
Twilight: Hermes, orders came down from the Joint Chiefs, they're sending in a portion of the 23rd AAS (Armoured Assault Squadron) for planetary command and control. Looks like we're taking her back. Fleet is forming now, ETA's running somewhere between 20 and 22 hours.
Hermes: Why so long?
Twilight: The 23rd isn't supposed to be on the line currently, most of their warships put into Earth dockyards for critical repairs and her marines are planetside on 48 hour leave. It'll take that long to do some quick patchwork and call the troops in.
Hermes: Understood. Where are we in all of this?
Twilight: Right were you are, the marines are going to need a cold LZ. Mission perimeters exclude anything more than 10 klicks from coordinates 21.49, 19.
Hermes: Roger, Twilight. 21.49, 19 is the primary population centre, confirm?
Twilight: Confirmed, Hermes. Unless you have anything further, this is Fading Twilight signing off.
Hermes: Nothing here, Twilight. Hermes UNSC-ES-36941 over and out.
ÝÝÝÝÝFor days the battle around the Covenant colonies on Tegea Prime raged, soldiers from the military garrison left behind to watch the planet were battle hardened from years of fighting on the human colonial worlds - they did not die easily. UNSC cruisers battered the strongest pockets of resistance from space, raining bolts of superheated plasma down on the surviving alien troops until nothing but cratered rubble and slag remained. It was not easy, and it was not cheap. Two cruisers were disabled by magnetic mines sown by the Covenant fleet before departing to chase Pillar of Autumn across the galaxy. More somber yet was the casualty rate: over 22,000 marines parished while grinding through the Covenant cities before the use of planetary supression from the fleet was authorized. 22,000 for 120,000 might seem an excellent kill ratio; nearly 6 Covenant soldiers dead for every UNSC marine. Not so, post-operation findings determined only 12,000 alien troops were on the planet - without the aid of space-side fire support.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe price, however terrible was worth it, and the fires of Tegea were not yet cold when UNSC science teams began touching down on the planet, eager to study their prize. Never during the entire war did we capture a single Covenant ship intact, or for that matter, a single Covenant soldier. We were never in a position that afforded us such a luxury, until now. Now we had an entire abandoned colony world, with major institutions and systems intact for us to disassemble and study. We had a formerly working model of Covenant civilization at our disposal. But the prize of the world was not in it's buildings or memory banks, but the 42 Covenant prisoners taken. Nobody expected to directly learn anything through them, and after a brief attempt at interrogation in which 4 UNSC Internal Security personell were evicerated by a pair of Covenant Elites, the decision was made to vivisect several specimens from each of the alien races, and store the rest in stasis until a latter date when they would be more useful.
ÝÝÝÝÝThat was the last combat action we saw with the Covenant. Using information gathered from the colony world, we were able to increase the speed of our starships, the accuracy of our weapons, and begin to grapple the mysteries of FTL maneuvering. Unfortunately, their advanced power systems were safeguarded with extreme protective measures, and every time a science team approached one of their massive underground reactors, it erupted in a gout of nuclear fire so large it was seen easily even in daytime from Mantinea, and registered on the warning sensors of nearby systems. They learned quickly to leave the monolithic power supplies alone, and for 200 years no one has dared venture into the labyrinthian power facilities below the planets surface. Lastly, we discovered starmaps that pointed directly to the Covenant homeworlds, and the names and locations of the mysterious races that comprised the holy Covenant of aliens.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe Elites, and their priestly bretheren were Ardorians, hailing from the spiral galaxy M74 , located on the sky from Earth near the constellation Pisces. Their closest spacefaring neighbors were the Procintu, or Jackals some 1,100 lightyears distant in the same galaxy. Finally the grunts, or the Vetaurillians. They were the least primitive of the three major races, lacking FTL technology, they were conquered by the marauding Procintu jackals early in their space travels, and when they combined with the Ardorians, so too were the Vetaurillians incorporated into the massive war machine. Carried aboard the giant starships, they were sent en masse onto planets to act as fodder, using superior numbers to overwhelm any enemy foolish enough to oppose the Covenant juggernaut.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe years passed, and by 2570 we had resurrected many of the old colonial worlds, and pushed beyond the boundries into areas once rife with Covenant activity. This is not to say we had defeated the alien menace, but their fleet presence in our region of the galaxy had simply vanished, and without their superiority in space, the combined Navy/Army slowly expanded our sphere of influence system by system.
ÝÝÝÝÝ2575 saw the dissolution of the obsolete UNSC and the formation of the Interplanetary Congress, which was to be the primary lawmaking and governing body in human space. Two senators were elected for 8 year terms from their home planets to serve in the I.C. Star Chamber on Earth. Overseeing the Interplanetary Congress stood the Premier, who recognized senators to the floor, maintained general order and ruled on procedural matters during sessions. Culled from the ranks of senators to oversee their own, a new Premier was chosen at the beginning of every legistlative session (2 years). Above the Premier and Interplanetary Congress was the Eparkhos, akin to the UNSC President of the Covenant War. He had veto ability against measures passed by the I.C., although it was a dangerous gambit at best, often attracting the anger of the I.C.. There were other high men of great importance, but for now the civil workings of the Interplanetary Congress will suffice.
ÝÝÝÝÝIn 2630, the I.C. saw a resurgence of fear for the Covenant. They had not been seen, nor heard in nearly 60 years - thanks to measures from the old UNSC that prevented any unnecissary exploration into Covenant space. Admittedly faulty from the beginning, the measure known as Holms Directive (after rear-Admiral Frederick Holms) managed to survive for 45 years, through the fall of the old regime, and well into the new. But in 2631, the I.C. completely dissolved the Holms Directive, and ordered the combined forces of the Interplanetary Defense Fleet (I.D.F.) into Ardorian space. The results were disasterious; the I.D.F. was handed a defeat of such magnitude that the media immediatly compared it to their last encounter with a Covenant Fleet in 2536, dubbing the incident the 100 Years Massacre. However, for reasons unknown, the invasion sparked a brutal war between the Covenant allies, and the next fleet to arrive in 2642 found the Ardorian and Procintu empires embroiled in bloody civil conflict. Taking advantage of the situation, the I.D.F. secretly built two unmanned, forward monitoring posts among the massive asteroid belts that crisscrossed the M74 spiral arms. Not easily defeated, the Ardorians momentarily abandoned their conflict with the Procintu and proceeded to decimate three successive I.D.F. warfleets in 2644, 48, and 52. These were the last attempts of humanity to invade Covenant space for the next hundred years. The I.C. once again put the Holms Initiative into place and for the next century, the only information of the Procintu and Ardorian empire came from a small monitoring station not more than the size of a house, nestled deep in the belly of a hollow asteroid in the heart of enemy territory.
ÝÝÝÝÝHere we are now, 2769 on the cusp of a new divergence in the road to humanity. A century of peace has seen the growth of the I.C. in power, and the expansion of humanity in all directions. However, with power comes responsibility, and in the weakness of the hearts of men that power often corrupts, turning the ability to do great good into the ability to do great evil. The I.C. has a reputation in the fringe regions as being ruthless and brutal, exploiting the rim worlds for the benefit of the citizens of the interior. Earth has established a hegemony within the I.C., and instead of first among equals, she is lord above lords. Where each planet has two representative Senators, Earth has one per each of her nations - for a total of 113, far more than any system, or coalition of systems can muster at the moment. Combined with her close ties to the core worlds, she has the ability to push any initiative or measure quickly through the I.C., and signed into law by the reigning Eparkhos, Abraham Cohen of Earth. With the I.C. and Eparkhos securely in her pocket, it's a simple matter to manipulate the fleet to her every whim, and when the I.C. fails, the combined might of six thousand warships is enough to quail any of the fringe worlds into submission. So it begins, the fringe worlds are alienated from the inner planets by a barrier of wealth and elitism and the inner worlds in turn despise the rim. They are the conditions that led to bloody revolution hundreds of times on earth, but instead of Germany, France, Rome or England, the scale is far grander. Over 560 billion lives are at stake, as well as the continuation of humanity, for far in deep space, the Covenant is reorganizing and rearming...
Upon this Stage (Prologue 2): History Repeats Over and Over and Over Again
Date: 27 May 2002, 4:08 pm
ÝÝÝÝÝ"They're late," a raised eyebrow.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Don't worry, they'll be here. Raoul told me they were going to pick up an extra."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Who? Why didn't anyone inform me of this?" the man known as Bram sounded irritated. Of course, he always sounded irritated now, probably something to due with the fact his wife had left him six months ago and he still wasn't over it. He'd caught her with the other man, 'fucking like pigs' as he put it, and afterwards she had just up and left him. Staying informed was almost an obsession with him.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"A specialist. Claims he can get us access to the command level."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"That's bull and you know it, what's this cracker wizards name?"
ÝÝÝÝÝ"I don't bloody well know, he's one of Raoul's regulars, and that's good enough for me. Questions is bad business where I don't need it, and neither do you for that matter."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Whatever, all I'm sayin' is that I don't like bein' --" he was cut off with a wave of the other mans hand.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Shhh, there's something comin' up the road," he said. Switching off the red navigation beacon, he tucked himself behind the fallen log Bram had been resting on just seconds earlier and waited.
ÝÝÝÝÝThere were no artificial lights to help give definition to the approaching sound, only the illumination from the sun reflecting off the two moons orbiting endlessly high overhead, but it was enough. Inching quietly down the road was a dark silhouette some 9 feet tall and 23 long, a large, squashed oblong bulge protruding atop the front of the vehicle. The form was unmistakable; a turreted Mitsubishi Motors Mk IV 'Scorpion' APV. The primary buyer for these highly specialized, highly dangerous and extremely expensive vehicles was the I.D.F. ground forces; their marines and security troops.
ÝÝÝÝÝRolling silently along the asphalt on its eight specialized rubber silicone tires, the steel behemoth pulled to a stop not 100 yards from where they hid. It had probably been en route to the orbital driver, 13 klicks down the highway and had seen their solitary light in the tree line and was now coming to investigate why anyone was in the 30 kilometer dead zone that separated the I.D.F. facilities with the rest of the planet.
ÝÝÝÝÝBram reached his hand down into one of the black bags they had been carrying, but the other man slapped it viciously away.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"What the hell are you thinking? Do you believe for a minute they won't see that from the driver? Damn fool," he whispered fiercely.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"You'll have all the MP's on the base swarming us in less than twenty minutes. Now listen to me, and do exactly as I say and we'll get out of here," he said as he reached down into the duffel bag. After a minute of searching with his hands, he pulled out a long, thin object, wrapped in cloth and bound with construction wire. Fishing around in the bag for another 30 seconds produced a second something, much smaller than the first but wrapped in the same manner. He handed it to Bram, along with 2 small spheres that glowed a dull green in the murky half light.
ÝÝÝÝÝPulling the cloth away from the object in his hand, he revealed a mottled grey/green rifle, almost 4 feet long, and probably automatic judging from the large rectangular opening in the bottom that was unquestioningly meant to receive large caliber magazines. Two tripod legs were folded against the barrel, running a quarter of its length back towards the trigger. Atop, built into the sight mount was a scope, probably the biggest scope Bram had ever seen. It was a full foot in length, and at the eyepiece, nearly 4 inches high, tapering off to a tight one inch opening at the opposite end. Three buttons ran along the top, halfway between base and tip of the scope, but their purpose was obscured by the darkness.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Take the gun and tape it between your shoulder blades. Are you right handed?"
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Yeah...why," Bram asked.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Put the grip facing your right arm," he said as Bram fastened the firearm to his back as he was instructed. The man continued.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"When I say, I want you to stand up and start walking towards the APV. Do what they say, but get as close as you can. They're going to ask questions, so that second heat signature they see on the scopes? That's your wife, we're doing xenobiology work on the nel lizards, we think they're breeding here somewhere. Got it?" he rolled over and positioned the legs of the rifle's tripod in the mud, slowly pushing apart the thick ferns that now obscured their view of the APV and the road.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"One more thing, when I say duck, hit the ground unless you feel like dying with our I.D.F. friends out there. Use the gun once you're down and get on that APV," he flipped up the lens caps on the scope, looked once, then tapped two of the buttons on top. The eyepiece began to emit a tiny green light, so faint that it was almost obscured by what little light there already was.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Hand me the grenades," he stretched his right hand towards Bram without his head ever moving from the scopes padded eyepiece. Bram had almost forgotten about them, and looked on the ground in front of his face for a minute before finding them nestled in a small pocket of earth.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Ok...go now," he hissed, motioning towards the APV.
ÝÝÝÝÝGram stood up quickly, almost losing his balance in the process, and from his comrades prone figure, he could hear a grunt of dissatisfaction for his graceless movements. But that wasn't what worried Gram, not in the least. What had his full attention was the 20 ton I.D.F. monster sitting silently on the path, like some ancient and terrible beast waiting to devour him whole. Slowly, he began to approach the monolithic machine, step by step, almost as if he were afraid he would startle the titan and it would dart off into the night.
ÝÝÝÝÝHe had walked almost 30 yards, 30 eternal yards in which time stood still, when the turret began to whine as it began to track slowly in his direction. Please, Lord... he had begun to pray, when suddenly the red night light mounted next to the cannon flashed on, bathing the path and tree line in an eerie ruby glow. The hatch popped open, and a helmeted figure rose from the armoured cupola. On its head were a pair of glowing red goggles, probably infrared, or zero-lux, but Bram felt as if they were letting the figure bore right through him to his very soul. Then he spoke.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"BRAM YOU BUGGER, WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" the voice boomed, and it took him a moment to realize who was speaking, and how it was that they knew his name.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Walking towards my tank like you know what you're doing. Did Quinn put you up to this?" the man laughed, a nasty, high pitched noise strikingly similar to that of old Earth hyenas. Not that Bram would have know the sound anyway, having never visited the planet itself, and have an unfortunately limited education growing up on the fringe, all he knew was that he always hated it when Raoul laughed.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Raoul? Raoul you bastard, I almost bogged myself," Bram said, only half joking. Looking down at his hand, he realized just how scared he had been; it wouldn't stop shaking until he crammed it in his jacket pocket.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"QUINN, GET OUT HERE, WE CAN SEE YOU ON THE IR SCOPE," Raoul yelled into the tree line where the man with the rifle was hiding.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"You know, Raoul, I should kill you for being so late, and the way you're bobbing around out of that hatch like a stuck xe'neng bird, it wouldn't be any trouble at all," a voice floated out from the ferns. Raoul looked shocked, but regained his composure seconds later as if his mortal being hadn't just been threatened.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Kennedy wouldn't appreciate that, Quinn, he's quite fond of me you know," Raoul said defiantly, but noticeably inching his way back under the armoured canopy.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"No, probably not, but Kennedy's not here to stop me, now is he?"
ÝÝÝÝÝBram finally spotted the muzzle poking out from the bushes, aiming right for Raoul and his APV. Maybe Quinn wasn't kidding, maybe he was, but Bram was certainly glad HE wasn't looking down the receiving end of that massive gun. From the way Raoul looked, he wasn't quite sure if he were about to die either, so Bram decided he was going to end it before something seriously nasty happened.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"C'mon, Quinn. We're late you said, let's get going, eh?" he called out, his voice shaking a little more than it should have.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Don't worry, little Bram, I'm not going to kill your friend, he's the biggest, most incompetent bugger in the world, but I'm not going to be the one to do that deed," Quinn rose from his hiding spot, his massive gun in one hand, the two black bags in the other. He flipped the lens protectors back into place, and started a quick trot across the red glow of the spotlight towards the APV. The rear hatch was flung open from the inside, and the two men crawled into its cramped interior.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe Mk IV was officially designed for "close battlefield fire support and deployment into situations not suitable for simple wheeled or unarmoured vehicles." The resulting marriage was an ungainly mix between tank and truck that produced a vehicle not even its staunchest supporter could call attractive. But then, the I.D.F. didn't give one god damn about the aesthetics of the vehicle so long as it got the job done, and that was were the beauty in the Mk IV came from.
ÝÝÝÝÝOn flat, open terrain or roads, the Mk. IV was capable of nearly 140 kilometers per hour, and had a functional range of 350 miles on a single battery charge. The 8 wheels were attached to the vehicle by independent suspension mounts, giving it versatility to tackle obstacles nearly as well as a tracked vehicle, but without the low speeds and high maintenance that were trademarks of the tread world. The turret, set 6 feet back near the front of the vehicle held the gunner and commander positions and was rotatable a continuous 360 degrees, independently from the chassis. It was also home to the main gun; a Bushwhacker 60mm cannon, firing either HE antipersonnel or AP anti-tank rounds. The rest of the available space on board was dedicated to a cramped passenger compartment for the eight man marines squad the Mk IV was designed to carry into battle.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"And who the bloody hell are you," Quinn demanded to the man holding the entry hatch open. He was known for his prowess as a killer, not his niceties.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Alan," replied the man before shuffling back into the red bathed interior.
ÝÝÝÝÝTo anyone unaccustomed with the world these men lived in, it would seem completely dysfunctional that they went by first name only, that these men who spent so much time together could only know the slightest scrap of information of those to whom they entrusted their lives. It was best that they knew as little of each other as they did though, it limited the damage when the I.D.F. Inquisitors laid their augmented hands on you.
ÝÝÝÝÝRaoul dropped down through the turret hatch from the command cupola, flipping the zero-lux goggles off his eyes as he did so. Taking a knee in the middle of the group, he reached over to a backpack resting against the far wall, withdrawing a keyboard and a small glass cube about the size of an egg. Before Bram could wonder what all of this was, Raoul plugged the board into one of two ports in the cube, tapped some keys and set them both on the floor.
ÝÝÝÝÝA rotating green and gold box appeared in the space Raoul had previously occupied, emanating from a small black lens in the center of the cube. In the muted red light, Bram hadn't noticed that silver lines crisscrossed the interior of the cube, running back and forth in that compact space until they all intersected with the lens until the cube had turned on, then all the silver lines began to glow and pule with the rotation of the green box. It was an optical memory and projection cube, they were incredibly expensive, and he had only seen one other in his entire life.
ÝÝÝÝÝSometime when he was sixteen or seventeen, the I.D.F. recruiters had come to his school, searching for enlistees, and on the table there had been a holocube playing three dimensional Propaganda vids from the early Covenant battles. Of course, the propaganda footage didn't mean much to Bram, he was too worried about where he would sleep the next night, and the next. His house had been among the first destroyed to make way for the orbital driver support facilities. How he hated the I.D.F., his mother had had to go out every night for a month and - he could feel the old anger rising just as Raouls' voice snapped him back to reality.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"This is the layout of the orbital driver facility. There are eight of them, located in blocks of two, spread out over nearly 30 square miles, but there's only one we want right now, located here," the green box was now a three dimensional map of the complex. Somehow, somewhere Raoul or...uh, Alan had gotten ahold of a tightly guarded holoprint cube of the base, and, almost as an afterthought, the steel beast whose' very belly we're sitting in right now. Impressive. The map zoomed, and Raoul continued.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"We're going to drive right on through the main checkpoint, Alan and I managed to get ahold of a level two security pass and some uniforms. They'll only get us as far as the third guard fence, but the less initial fighting the better," a red line appeared at the outskirts of the map, tracing inward through a winding road, past several checkpoints and fences, and onto one of the massive orbital driver platforms. Raoul tapped several keys, and one of the smaller buildings highlighted itself in gold, flickered once and the map zoomed again.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Ok, this is the uplink building, it houses the secondary transmitter for this series of drivers. If the main antennae ever go off-line, and they're going to, the secondary building takes over all the primary functions for the payload rocket - guidance, burn time, etc," he said, tapping the keyboard once again.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"There's a two man team already in place in that building, so nobody has to worry about guiding the payload once it's off the ground," he finished tapping the keyboard, and the map shifted rapidly to a much larger building in the center of the complex.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"There's a barracks next to this orbital gun platform," Quinn said, pointing to a spot on the map, causing the cube to immediately zoom. "What about that? It's close enough to the command complex that we might have some trouble."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Don't worry about it, Alan has command level access. Alan?"
ÝÝÝÝÝ"That's right, once we're in the building, I can route the troops to a different sector of the facility. By the time they figure it out, we'll be halfway back to the colony," said Alan, although Quinn didn't look satisfied in the least. Raoul continued anyway.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"The command complex is fifteen stories tall, and the primary communication dish controls and fuel control valves are located on the thirteenth floor. I want everyone to know that there IS a launch scheduled for 0830, day after tomorrow, so the complex is going to be fairly busy with test personnel," he touched the building at the base, and the walls disappeared, giving them a cutaway view of the interior.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"There's no use in being quiet by this point, the command complex is two levels past where our security pass can take us, so they're going to know we're in," he grinned wickedly as he explained the rest. "Alan is taking the Mk. IV directly INTO the building, I want you all buckled down until he gives the all clear..nobody gets hurt going through that wall. After that, STAY TOGETHER, we're not going back for anybody that gets separated, there's no time to wait for stragglers," he looked around the circle, making eye contact with every member of the team until they nodded their understanding.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"all right then, let's move. Quinn, you remember how to work one of these?" he pointed up towards the gunner position.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"No problem," said Quinn.ÝÝÝÝÝ
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Bram, take seat in back until we're through the wall. It's about fifteen minutes to the first checkpoint, get your gear and be ready to move out," said Raoul, before disappearing up into the command cupola, followed shortly by Quinn, who flashed Bram a quick grin before pulling the hatch shut.
ÝÝÝÝÝA low hum, and the APV lurched forward, the engines whining quietly through the metal walls as they turned back onto the main highway and began their short drive to the orbital driver. Bram checked his watch, it was 0230 now and they weren't due at the command complex until 0330. Might as well get some shuteye, he thought, before closing his eyes and letting the peaceful drone of the electric motors lull him gently to sleep.
ÝÝÝÝÝSomething hit Bram in the face, snapping him out of his light slumber. It was soft and wet, and it stunk like feet. Jerking upright, he looked blankly at the lumpy object for half a second, waiting for his eyes to focus. Once they did, he recognized the standard tan and black jumpsuit worn by the I.D.F. security vehicle crews. The dampness came from a spot the fabric where the small of his back would be, covered in some kind of black liquid. Near the center of the mess was a jagged hole through the mesh like material, and he stared at it for a minute, the wheels in his brain going round and round, searching for an answer. AH, DAMN! Blood! He pushed the soiled clothing onto the floor, wiping his face with the sleeve of his own jumpsuit. It came back streaked with red, and he spat in disgust to clear it from his lips.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"I'd put that on if I were you, and clip this to the outside," Quinn, down from turret was just zipping up his own jumpsuit, bloodied at the neck where Raoul and Alan had undoubtedly sawed through the poor mans spine. He tossed Bram an I.D.F. security badge. Turning it in over in his hand, Bram noticed a clear plastic information strip, and a small blueish silver computer chip emblazoned on the front. Probably his access into the restricted areas.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Every person in the truck's got to have on of these, or the alarm goes off before we're even through the first checkpoint," Quinn said, confirming his thoughts.ÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝÝ"We're going to hit the first checkpoint in less than six minutes," he said, clipping a similar badge onto his own suit. "Get two of the ISR-32s out of that bag," he pointed to one of the sacks they had carried to the rendezvous.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Armour piercing rounds please, and use the alternating tracer clips. No, look, there, they're under the fletchet shells. Good." he made sure everything was set, then set them next to the door, against the rear hatch.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Get theTAS for yourself, I.D.F. wears body armour so get fletchets and aim for the head, or load up with slugs. Keep it hidden in case they come through, it's almost show time," he said, before crawling back up into the turret.
ÝÝÝÝÝFive minutes later, Bram had just finished assembling and arming the shotgun when he felt the Scorpion slow, then stop. Alan opened the driver hatch, and a flood of harsh artificial light shot through the open compartment door and into the passenger cabin. He could hear voices coming from the outside.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Where have you been?" the voice was not kind, Bram hoped to God they didn't have to start fighting now.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"There were some fringies in the restricted zone we had to deal with. They won't god damn learn the driver is off limits to their filth."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"You got that right, I say we should wipe 'em off the planet right now. The whole lot is nothing but trouble," the voice was warmer now, if only by a degree. "Wait a minute," suspicion now. "Where did the blood come from?"
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Like I said, we had to deal with 'em. One of the buggers bit me before I had to kick in his throat."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Hah! Brass should give you a medal. You should be set, let me run the scan, everyone have their badges?" Brams heart jumped to his throat, and he prayed that the badges worked.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Ok, everything looks good, you're free to go," the hatch was sealed, returning the interior to its familiar hellish glow, and a moment later, the APVs engines hummed to life, pushing the vehicle back on her course into the heart of the driver.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"If that didn't get your blood pumping, nothing will!" Alan shouted back from the driver compartment. "There should be a few firing ports back there, you can take a look around until the next checkpoint."
ÝÝÝÝÝBram looked around for a moment until he spotted a small rectangle of metal extruding from the side. Above were rails of some kind, running perpendicular to the rectangle, and on the left was a small black button with lettering beneath that read, 'once to open, twice to close'. That was it, pressing the button produced a small whirring noise next to the slot, and a second later it slid upward to reveal the world outside. Bram was totally unprepared for what he saw.
ÝÝÝÝÝThey were traveling at a decent speed, enough to push air through the slot, drying his eyes and forcing him to blink every few seconds. They were traveling on a raised causeway, some 20 feet above the surrounding landscape. Every so often they would pass an off ramp that led to various nondescript buildings that towered high above the highway. They were not large enough to house the orbital drivers, but they were still soaring monuments of concrete and steel, taller and wider than even the tallest and widest colonial buildings he had seen in the capital city. For a ten minutes he stared at the passing scenery until the APV once again rolled to a stop.
ÝÝÝÝÝThis time it was much quicker, the bright light shot through the vehicle and the scan was performed without any exchange of words. Then the guard asked where they were headed, and Alan told him they were going to the medical bay for a quick rundown for any colonial pathogens they might have received in the skirmish. The guard grunted and waved them through.
ÝÝÝÝÝRaoul came over the intercom, "We're going to be hot in about two minutes, Alan and I will take the right side, Bram, take the left."
ÝÝÝÝÝBram shuffled to the left side of the APV and punched open one of the gun ports. The view here was exactly the same, except now far off in the distance, bathed in floodlights were two of the orbital drivers. Imposing structures nearly 300 stories tall and one third as wide, they were used as launching bays for the massive fusion rockets that delivered the unconventional payloads that were too heavy for shuttlecraft and transporters into orbit.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Get ready," Alans voice came through the door as the APV pulled to a halt. The hatch opened, and Bram waited tensely by the portal.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"State your business," a harsh voice came through the door.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Transporting Colonel Mazier to the command complex," Alan replied just as venomously.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"I don't have any officer transit papers here, let me see your -" the voice, turning into a wet gurgle, and Bram heard liquid spatter quietly on the metal APV floor. Gunshots followed, and he heard thuds from outside the vehicle. Alan gunned the engine, and the Scorpion shot forward, making the last run of its short life.
ÝÝÝÝÝThey had missed a guard in one of the guard houses, and Bram fired two rounds into his head as the man reached over to grab one of the emergency phones. His head collapsed with the first round, and exploded into mist with the second impact, pasting the wall with fine red spray before he was obscured from sight.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe turret overhead whined, and the APV bucked gently as Quinn expelled two 60mm shells from the Bushwhacker gun. Flames roared in the distance, but the limitations of the firing port prevents Bram from seeing their destruction. They passed a cratered building, Quinns work no doubt and judging from the number of men running out, the security bunker located on the perimeter of the command complex fence. A burst of fire from Quinns .50 caliber machine-gun on the turret cut down all but three advancing soldiers, who promptly took cover in the rubble.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Impact in 30 seconds, buckle down!" Alan shouted over the intercom, and Brams' stomach lurched, a sickening indicator they were speeding up! The Bushwhacker roared again and again, pumping half a dozen HE rounds into the wall directly in the path of their onrushing APV. "Impact in 15, BRACE YOURSELVES," Alan shouted...and then they hit.
ÝÝÝÝÝThe force of the blow ripped the shotgun from Brams grip, flinging the TAS through the air and into the drivers compartment, luckily for Alan, he had safetied the weapon before the collision. Their bags skidded along the floor, smashing into the far bulkhead with a sickening crack that told Bram at least one of the weapons was no longer functional. He heard Raoul scream from the cupola above, but a string of obscenities said that he was still alive. A jagged steel girder ripped through the side of the APV with a deafening shriek, creating a three foot tear in its bulletproof skin where Bram had been sitting not minutes before. A final wrenching impact and they moved no more. Raoul dropped down from the cupola, his face bloody from a gash running the length of his forehead, followed by Quinn who was apparently unhurt. Alan jumped through the driver compartment door, tossing Bram his shotgun in the process, and drawing his own ISR and jamming a clip into the magazine.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Ready?!" shouted Raoul, his hand on the door.
ÝÝÝÝÝQuinn grabbed their duffel bags, tossing one to Alan and one to Bram before slamming a clip into his rifle and meeting Raoul at the door. "Let's rock," he said, flashing one of his toothy grins, pushing Raouls hand down and opening the hatch before leaping through, his gun at the ready.
ÝÝÝÝÝBram was the last one out the door, and he shivered to himself as he heard Quinns laughter, puncuated by bursts of gunfire and remembered his wicked grin. No man should be that happy killing, it doesn't matter who, he though before stepping through the Scorpions door and onto the Command Complex lobby turned killing floor.
Upon this Stage Final Prologue: Dante's Encomium
Date: 18 June 2002, 10:36 pm
They say that once you have traveled down war's corpse strewn path, and seen men quail, and break, and die before her, that you never forget her terrible face, not even for an instant. It is something that will haunt your every moment to the end of your miserable days, a shapeless specter of death, vicious and cruel residing in your mind, born only by yourself unto yourself. Inevitably you will run from her, for solace in friends and family, but she will always be there, stalking you in the darkest depths of your soul, growing to fill the ever widening chasm she created in your core with her putrid, decaying body; forevermore an indissoluble part of your very being. It is a dark dance, endlessly played out in the recesses of the mind between human spirit and the dark umbrage of perverse consciousness that eventually drives many a strong man to insanity, and ruin.
Yet somehow, there are men who thirst for this life, this existence of waking nightmares and torment, momentarily satiated by bloodshed and pain. Watching Quinn do his 'work', Bram knew he was one of these masochistic children of war, and he wondered how any lone soldier could bear such a taint upon his soul yet still function. The pain must have rotted his humanity long, long ago, leaving only the savage shell of a man behind, Bram contemplated. He kills for the feeling of life it gives him; the slaughter is his drug and his addiction, he NEEDS it to thrive. And it was that that made Quinn so very, very deadly.
"GET BACK!" Quinn thrust Bram back into the Scorpion with a flick of his massive hand. He had not even used his arm even, merely his wrist, yet the force sent Bram reeling uncontrollably into the open maw of the APV door. With cat-like reflexes, Quinn threw himself backwards, performing a half summersault underneath the open Scorpion door, then throwing himself sideways beneath the low slung belly of the tank, using the bulletproof skin of the APV to shield his body from a steady stream of bullets fired by approaching I.D.F. security troops in their rear.
Thrusting his own weapon into one of the firing ports, Bram loosed half a dozen fletchet rounds from his shotgun into the mass of onrushing soldiers. Quinn used that brief two second window of distraction to level his three foot, scoped behemoth of a rifle and drop the entire four man I.D.F. team with one controlled burst. Bullets whined overhead, and Bram rushed to the far side of the Scorpion to counter. But before he could even draw his bead on the new targets, a spray of blood from behind an upturned table announced the threat had been dealt with by a well positioned Alan, who had somehow managed to obtain a vantage on the overhanging causeway some 12 feet above. Two more bursts from Quinns rifle, a white phosphor grenade hurled by Raoul, and the lobby fell eerily silent, save for a repeated beeping from the main reception desk.
Swinging down from his position, Alan rushed to the desk and found the source of the noise. Someone had tripped the breach alarm before dying. Muttering a curse, he set to work at they keyboard, tapping furiously and squinting into the screen for several minutes before he turned back to the team.
"Ok, look. I can't get access from the terminal...it's a Recep station, and the mainframe doesn't give it command access. The best I can do is use one of the ID badges to requisition an emergency override from command personnel."
"Do it, " said Raoul, tossing Alan a blood smeared badge from an eyeless corpse on the floor. With that, Alan set to work again, typing and squinting for another minute before he swiped the bloody tag through a holographic badge reader.
Suddenly a phone on the station next to him rang, and he grabbed the receiver. "This is Lieutenant..." he looked down at the badge. "Baker. We have intruders at the door. Security gates are down, but they're going to breach in under 2 minutes. Requesting emergency lift operation to evac the crew down here." He pulled Bram, who was closest, towards him and put another ID badge in his hand.
"Yes, Sir. Just a moment, Sir." He turned to Bram, cupping his hand over the phone mouthpiece. "Say the name on this badge, the rank, and give the number below the security strip. Nothing more unless he asks."
A voice came through the receiver, and Bram could have sworn it was the now dead soldier from the first checkpoint. Looking down at his badge, Bram quickly read the name. "Stephens, Corporal 2nd Grade. Security clearance 1183-2191-8493-1562."
"Ok, the lift is up, you have four minutes to evac before the computer overrides OUR override. Get going, we'll have a team meet you on level fourteen."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Bram responded before tossing the receiving on the floor.
"We have four minutes of override. They're going to have a team on the fourteenth floor waiting for us," he said to the others.
"Fourteen? Perfect, we have one floor of separation. I couldn't have planned it better myself."
"God dammit, Raoul, are you deaf? He said there's a squad waiting on fourteen for us. We come out of the lift, they see we're not the desk personnel and they shoot us. Even I'm not that good and you are bloody USELSS in a fight." Quinn shouted, his face flush with unwarranted but deadly rage. Bram noticed Quinns knuckles were pure white, and the barrel of his gun was shaking rapidly as he gripped it harder and harder, the physical manifestations of his bubbling fury.
"Do you have a better suggestion, Quinn? Maybe we should just kill everything that walks through that door?" Raoul replied, his voice soft, but just as deadly.
"Look you little shit -" Quinn started, but Bram hesitantly cut him off.
"Um..there are three minutes left before they shut down the lift, and I think I can hear something outside." As if to reinforce his words, the building began to vibrate gently with the rumble of oncoming vehicles. Dust that had settled on the ceiling showered down upon them, coating everything with a fine white powder, and the overhead lights started to sway back and forth on their mountings as the unseen approached.
"OK, up into the lift, weapons out and don't forget the bags," Quinn grabbed his rucksack and keyed open one of the elevator doors with the security badge from a dead guard. Once Bram was in, Quinn pushed him against the door wall, obscuring him from sight to anyone looking in. Likewise, he managed to position his considerable build against the opposite wall so that he too was invisible from the portal. Alan and Raoul remained in front of the door, their ISR-32s held at the ready.
"Give me your guns," Quinn said, reaching out his massive arm.
"Bugger off," said Raoul, reluctant to hand his equalizer over to Quinn.
"ISRs aren't part of the I.D.F. armoury, they'll know immediately when you two are standing at the door with un-issued weapons. Give me the guns," he said again.
"Bloody Christ," he sighed. "You walk through the door without guns, they don't suspect anything and don't kill us. Then you say that you were the only two in the lift when the intruders broke through the security door and had to go without the rest. I know you're stupid Raoul, but pretend to fucking understand."
"Shut up, Quinn," he said, but handed his weapon over anyway. Suddenly a voice overhead chimed in, it was the I.D.F. security computer that controlled doors and lift functions. "Forty-five seconds remaining until override. Please evacuate to your designated levels before lift function is suspended."
"Shit, let's go," Raoul punched a button, closing the doors, and the lift automatically began to rise.
The waited tensely for only a few seconds, until the gravity powered lift slowed, then stopped as the display panel indicated that they had arrived on level fourteen. Raoul looked at Quinn, who nodded. When the doors slid open, Bram couldn't see outside, but he did notice Raoul and Alan visibly relax.
"Where's the fire team?" Raoul asked.
"Down on six, all teams are securing the stairwells against the intruders. Do you need medical attention? Where are the rest of the crew?" a voice replied from the corridor, and Quinn smiled. A medical team meant only one or two side arms.
"We're the only two that made it through before -" Raoul was cut off by Quinn as he swung out around the edge of the door, leveled his weapon at the seven man medical crew and pulled the trigger.
A moment should be devoted to this extremely special weapon carried by Quinn, for it was not the ISR-32 carried by Raoul or Alan, nor was it a tactical assault shotgun of the kind Bram held. In fact, his rifle was one of only 100,000 in all human space. Customely manufactured on demand by the Colt & Browning smiths on Windfall in the Beta Erindilli system, the LRPS40.6 multipurpose rifle is one of the finest examples of human engineering to date. Designed initially as a replacement for the SAW v.301, the Colt & Browning engineers quickly discovered the uncanny accuracy of the rifle, even at high rates of fire. The weapon was such a success during initial development, that the I.D.F Marine Corp handed Colt & Browning a three year, eighty-eight million dollar grant to further develop the weapon according to newly introduced I.D.F. specifications. After all three years, and nearly ninety million dollars, C&B's design team went before the I.D.F. Small Arms Acquisition Board to present their creation. Designated the Long Range Personnel Suppressor .40 calibre, revision 6, the LRPS40.6 boasted an internal ceramic coating impervious to heat, dust, and use degradation that allowed it to function for years in the worst environments before even minor servicing. The barrel was laser rifled by the most delicate computer aided arm possible to allow near perfect accuracy, even at maximum effective range (over four miles). Built in fluid shock absorbers located on the tripod hinge and in the stock reduced back blast from the massive shells to a minimum and kept the weapon stable at its highest rate of fire (1500 rpm). An integrated magnification and zero-lux/infrared scope allowed the user to orally alter the magnification/view mode, or to designate one of six preset functions. Additionally, depressing the trigger lightly would activate a laser designator, visible only through the scope, it 'painted' the exact impact location of the shell, factoring wind, rain, gravity and distance, allowing the user to alter their shot accordingly. Of course, all of these functions could be turned off, but not once in its six years of service had the gun, or its incorporated systems failed.
The high price of the rifle, over sixty-three million dollars per unit, and long production cycle prevented the weapon from ever being the mainstream success the I.D.F. had hoped. However, it quickly became the gun of choice by the I.D.F. Shadow Bureau, the secret police of the fleet that conducted political assassinations, covert operations and insurgencies too sensitive for the general special forces. In fact, the Winfall production facility is within the perimeter of the primary Shadow Bureau operations center, and each weapon is carefully stamped, recorded and securitagged for its journey to Bureau agents. However Quinn obtained the rifle though, he was certainly putting it to good use now.
At less than 10 meters, it was practically impossible for him to miss. Firing from the hip, he raked the barrel back and forth across the medical team for nearly two seconds, a tongue of flame almost as long as the gun dancing from the muzzle until all 50 rounds in the massive drum magazine were depleted. Four of the med team were killed instantly by the huge .40 calibre shells that riddled their bodies with half dollar sized exit wounds that would smolder for the next 10 minutes. By then, Bram had scrambled out the door and began to pump shell after shell into the unarmoured medical personnel. At such close range, the 12 gauge rounds full of jagged metal didn't disperse as they were designed, and the tightly packed steel fragments striking soft flesh at high velocities simply tore their targets in half.
The lone survivor, a combat surgeon by his uniform, ran in a zig-zag motion, his hands over his head as he sprinted towards an open door at the end of the corridor. Letting the surgeon run for a few seconds longer, Quinn slowly brought the LRPS to his face, using his thumb to switch the weapon over from its automatic to a more accurate single shot mode. This done, he dropped his right hand into one of the cargo pockets attached to his pants and withdrew a small 12 round bar clip. In one fluid motion, he then brought the scope to his eye and smoothly inserted the magazine, where it locked to the rifle with a sharp 'click'. By then, the surgeon was at the door, his hand wrestling with the knob that had been jammed by an errant round from Bram's TAS. When it still wouldn't open, he began ramming the center of the door with his shoulder in a vain attempt to open the reinforced steel hatch by force - to no avail, it did not budge. Quinn sucked in a deep breath, his left eye closed, and Bram could tell he had had enough - in an act of mercy, or compassion, or, knowing Quinn, probably just pleasure, he would finally let the man die. The surgeon looked back at the group just in time to see the massive LRPS muzzle pointed directly at his head...and then he simply ceased to exist. Quinn squeezed the trigger once, and a gout of flame, followed instantly by the .40 calibre round exited the barrel. It took all of a quarter of a second for the depleted uranium round to cover the intervening 50 meters between gun and target, barely enough time for the internal guidance fins to deploy. Somehow, although it was more than likely intentional, Quinn missed the instantly fatal head shot, instead striking collar bone at the sternal end of the pectoral girdal...a region packed thick with painful nerve ends and vital arteries. It would kill him for sure, but death would be a slow ten minutes coming while he watched blood spurt from his veins in rhythm with heartbeat, the thick and crimson elixir of life that wept for his body as it fled, because it was not his to keep any longer. Quinn grinned, as Bram imagined a skull would grin, and turned his back to the dying man.
"I'm done," he said, still grinning, "where now?"
"Christ, Quinn..." Raoul shook his head, and his eyes wandered the passage for a moment before resting on the blood spattered door against which the dying surgeon had propped himself. "That one, I think. There should be a service shaft at the end of the corridor that accesses all of the mid-levels," he paused, "not sure where it comes out though."
"You know where you're going, we'll follow," Quinn said, holstering his rifle.
They quickly filed up behind Raoul, and passed effortlessly through the jammed door, two quick palm thrusts from Quinn were enough to force it open with enough room for them to pass single file into the corridor beyond.
Not that the I.D.F. command complex could be considered luxurious on any of its 300 levels, but the inconspicuous maintenance tunnel they entered was beyond spartan. Whereas outwardly, the building consisted of shining metallic walls and polished black marble floors, the long hallway stretching before them was of rough concrete all around. The walls were barely visible through a thick maze of pipes and exposed wiring conduits that covered nearly every inch of exposed space. Every so often, automated valves and release mechanisms would open a circuit or steam conduit and high above bright blue electricity would arc between contacts as massive pent up energies were released from the system. A quick area check revealed no other personnel in the immediate vicinity. That wasn't to say they couldn't have hidden amongst the tangle of pipes and wires, but it was doubtful at best, and anyone back here was more than likely low level maintenance, untrained in combat and without weapon.
They traversed the 50 meter tunnel without incident and found the small, circular domed hatch in an alcove set off the main corridor. The only problem was that it had been securely welded shut, judging by the rust accumulated on the weld, it had been done quite some time ago.
"Bloody Hell," Raoul kicked the steel hatch, swearing loudly when it proved to be harder than his toe. Ignoring his blasphemous tirades, Quinn opened Raouls rucksack and produced two cone shaped objects. Two wires, one red and one black, ran from the back of each cone where a small box with an attached LED display sat.
"What are they?" Bram asked, eyeing the cones.
"DE's," Quinn responded, then when he saw Bram still didn't understand, he added, "Directional explosives. They're a powerful plastic explosive encased in reinforced duratanium plates. Conventional explosives do an equal amount of damage within a relatively spherical radius. These DE's manage to focus almost 75% of their power in whichever direction the open end is facing."
"Basically, he's using them here because we don't know what the Hell all this is," Alan added, gesturing to the maze of wires and pipes around them.
"Where's the detonator," Quinn asked, peering into Raouls bag.
"There wasn't enough room in his so I packed it with my stuff," Alan responded, tossing Quinn a small black box.
Quinn pulled out a reel of wire from his pocket, stripped the ends and began to attach the wires on the DE's with those on the detonator. In 30 seconds, each chord had a mate, and Quinn was walking backwards in a crouch from the primed cones, around the corner back into the main hallway.
"Grab your stuff shit and get back. I want everybody back as far as that control box," he said, pointing to a small grey control junction, blinking green against the dark corridor.
Once everyone was back, he twisted a small knob on the box, pressed a button and covered his ears, grinning. Bram barely had time to cover his own when a clap of thunder echoed down tunnel, followed in short succession by another, then a massive gout of fire that illuminated the tunnel, throwing long shadows across the 4 men huddled against the ground. Quinn was the first to rise, but he motioned the others back down as he crept slowly towards the hatch. Deeming it all clear, he waved them forward, and gathering their equipment, they came.
The DE's had cratered the ground to a slight degree, no more than two inches at the deepest point, and twisted the nearest electrical conduits beyond recognition where they now sparked and sputtered with angry electrical fire, but they had done their job. The hatch was completely ripped from its hinged mount, which, in fact had been ripped right out of the concrete. The force of the impact flattened it against the opposite wall, indenting the hatch six inches into the reinforced wall. Quinn kicked it out, and the hatch rolled out the alcove until impacting against the opposite wall where it clanked loudly to a halt.
Quinn looked down the red lit maintanence shaft, inspecting it slowly for any indication that security may have heard the breach and was coming to investigate. They hadn't, and down he went. With his gun looped around his shoulder, facing downward in case any surprises appeared at the other end, his considerable bulk slowly descended the twenty feet required to reach the opposite end. Talking would be too risky now, a dead give away that someone was coming through the formerly cealed hatch.
Index and middle fingers pointed inward towards other palm, thumb held perpandicular to index facing up. Preparing to breach, one man backup. He pointed at Bram. You.
Bram scurried down the ladder with one hand, the other gripping his shotgun tightly. When he reached the bottom, noticed there was a very small shelf on which he could rest without standing directly on the hatch. Quinn began signaling again.
Palm outward, index finger raised with the rest perpendicular to the palm turned into all fingers raised thumb outward at a 90 degree angle, forming an 'L'. I'm going first, left side.
Ok, I'll follow right side, Bram signaled.
Exactly. Wair 10 seconds before you come down, then cover my backside, got it?
Yeah. Let's go. Bram finished.
Quinn twisted the wheel mounted on the hatch, and surprisingly enough it turned. Obviously someone had decided that they needed to get in here at one point or another. It swung open noiselessly, and Quinn immediatly shot through the opening feet first, his weapen held tightly against his body. As he fell, Bram heard shouts from somewhere in the room below, but then as Quinn began to shoot, the voices one by one fell silent. By the time Bram followed, the room had been cleared, and Quinn yelled the all clear up to Raoul and Alan.
They had just started a perimeter search of the spacious, glass walled room when Raoul decended the tunnel and let out a whistle.
"Bloody Hell, this is the control room. We're already here!" he exclaimed, looking around like a kid in a candy store.
"I thought that might be the case. The tunnel we just came through looked too important to be regular maintanence, the command instructions printed on some of the nodes up there were stamped with the I.D.F. Launch Authority logo," said Alan.
"They control the drivers?" Quinn asked.
"Not exactly. Well, some of them help. They route commands from this room to the antennae, and to the fleet command ships primarily. The people in this room control the drivers."
"Oh," Quinn didn't care anymore.
"Well, let's get to work then," Alan said, as he sat down at one of the consoles. "Bram, get two more charges and secure them in the tunnel about halfway up. Tightly now, don't want them falling down," he said with a morbid grin. Bram wished he wouldn't do that anymore, but set to work anyway.
Raoul, meanwhile had pulled a medium range radio from one of his vest pockets and was talking quietly into the mouthpiece. He stopped for a moment and turned to Alan.
"How much longer?"
"About five minutes," Alan replied. "we've got to blow the charges AFTER redirecting authority to the secondary array or the system will hang for at least 15 minutes, waiting for us to come back online."
"So five? I'm on the wire with Mic and Dan at the secondary array and they want to know how long."
"Give me the radio," Alan said, reaching out his hand. "Mic, you boys ready over there...good, good. We're going offline in a little under four minutes now, so good luck." he finished his conversation and set the radio down.
Nearly ten minute passed, and with each lap of the clock Alan grew more and more irritable.
"Bloody thing doesn't understand I want to take it offline. I can take this terminal and this room offline, but it boots me right back on saying the rest of the system is unprepared." Bram watched him type furiously for several minutes before he lost interest and wandered away to talk with Quinn.
"Bet they'd never trained for something like this, eh?" he nudged Brams ribs with his elbow.
"Wait, wait a minute, what did you just say?" Alan interrupted.
"I said I don't think they train for a situation like this, why?" Quinn responded.
"That's it, BEAUTIFUL! The computer is in a 'breach' state of emergency, it can't be switched to a 'launch' state of emergency, which would let me direct override control to the second array. I CAN authorize a system shutdown for this complex though, which is similiar to a training shutdown in that it will automatically divert control to the secondary relay."
"Then do it," Raoul said from behind him.
"Already done," he flipped a switch on the wall next to his station, and immediatly all the monitors in the room went dark. "Bram, key the explosives if you would," he added.
Bram tripped the DEs, and a roar came from the maintanence tunnel exit the corner of the room. The force ripped the hatch from its mountings and threw it against the floor with a horrific smash. The ceiling above them noticably sagged, and smoke poured from the smashed tunnel. The lights flickered for a moment, then died completely as the local electical systems finally succumbed to the duel poundings they had recently recieved.
The room was almost completely dark, the only light was that coming in through the forty foot glass window from the floodlights outside the compound, 15 floors below. Bram heard an electonic whine, and a green pinprick appeared in the corner Quinn had occupied. Before he could figure out anymore, gunshots roared, and a muzzle flashed near the green spot. In the brief illuminations, he saw it WAS Quinn, using the LRPS night scope to see, and he was shooting at them. Bram barely had time to draw his rifle before both Raoul and Alan were dead, and Quinn had covered the the thirty feet between he and Bram. Grabbing the smaller mans beck in his massive hand, he took the shotgun from his shaking grip and threw it against the wall.
"I don't have time to explain, but I'm going to let you live and that should satisfy you for now. Are you going to fight back?" he waited for Bram no shake his head before letting him go.
"We have to go NOW, we won't be safe until we're off the planet so get your gun and follow me," he handed Bram a pair of night vision goggles and darted off into the darkness, leaving Bram scrambeling to grab his weapon and catch up.
At 0430 UST (Universal Standard Time), a low yield nuclear device no larger than a 24 pack of cans went off on the fifteen floor of the I.D.F. Orbital Driver Command Center on the rim planet of Demeter. It was extremely small, but powerful enough that it vaporized a perfect sphere some 300 meters in diameter in the outer wall of the building. With such a large portion of the building gone, its structural stability was nonexistant, and it could no longer support its own weight. The 285 floors above came crumbling down around nearly 2,000 I.D.F. security troops and vehicles milling about the base. There were no survivors. By 0435 the information had blitzed across a thousand worlds, where it was condemnded by all the men of high import amongst the Interplanetary Congress as the worst act of terrorism in recent memory. For the next five minutes or so, they were right. Around 0440, two orbital drivers that were sitting primed and ready to carry 55,000 tonnes of fusion propulsion material into space were launched. The problem was that they were lifting off two days too early, and without anyones authority. Controlled by Dan and Mic, the men are not themselves important, in the auxiliary antennae array, these rockest roared into space at nearly 17,000 miles per hour, a space crowded with I.D.F. warships providing cover and support for the rescue operations below. In review, numerous captains would lose their command for actions in open defiance of standard I.D.F. operating procedures and orders. The average distance between ships was something less than 200 miles - a great distance on land, but spitting range in space. When the drivers appeared on the ships screens, nobody had any idea what they were doing or what to expect. One thing can be sure, though: that they least expected the two drivers to be turned into 450 meter rockets, loaded with a combined 110,000 tonnes of reactor material.
The resulting 'fireball' created a light so grand that some mistook it for the early rise of Demeters sun, Aisys. Those of a more religious bend cowered and proclaimed the end to be at hand. At the metaphorical level, both were somewhat correct.
Both drivers struck the heart of the I.D.F. fleet, and upon impact caused a chain reaction that engulfed some seventy starships, one orbiting drydock, and created enough debris that sparked fires around the planet.
The Fires of Demeter, as they would soon be called, marked the beginning of the end to the period of time in human history defined by the Interplanetary Congress, as some would say, dictated and ordered by the Interplanetary Congress, and the beginning of a long, bloody civil war that would stretch for a billion lightyears over human space and time.
To what end were these actions ordered? We know not yet, but rest assured that the ends will be known and those who ordered them may yet be brought to light. For upon this stage we have set our scene and none will rest till all is seen!
|
