Beat the drums
He comes. He comes.
From the Lion's Pride,
They hide. They hide.
The sword will fall.
They crawl. They crawl.
Lex Talionis -Yeji-Sola System
The mighty hatch began to unlatch, the unique locking system disengaging as twelve seal bolts hissed and withdrew in sequence, a rush of gasses escaping as the door pushed outwards and split apart, sliding aside, opening on the darkness beyond. First, one green light flickered and flared, as within, other lights sprang to life. Auxiliary power systems, long left dormant, began to feed life into the mighty warship, computer screens flashing and initialising their boot sequences as the heating systems pumped warm air through the icy tomb.
Darien stood at the hatch. He felt foul air flow past him, stirring his hair. His eyes hardened as they pierced the gloom suspiciously.
He took the first step forward, across the entranceway and aboard the ship. His boots clanked on the metal grating beneath his feet. There were a hundred shadowy corners around him, and the irrational part of his mind insisted that danger lurked within them - but nothing could have survived in the deep icy grave that had shrouded the Lex Talionis, and the only ghosts were the ones his paranoia conjured up in his mind.
He led them through the ship, noting the green oxidization on the corroded bulkheads, the rapidly melting ice forming condensation as pipes dripped, fat droplets splatting to the deck loudly. Behind him the Marines drew closer, lights darting too and fro, illuminating the shadows, the claustrophobic air of death around them fraying their nerves in spite of their training.
There were no signs of death on the Lex Talionis. Its corridors were pristine and immaculate except for the decay, and while it felt like an Imperial starship, it seemed to lack any of the distinctive markings that Exalibur shared in common with the rest of the fleet. There were no signs of life of any kind there. They passed empty and sterile crew quarters devoid of any of the trinkets or belongings that would have indicated the former crew. Even the great mess hall looked as if it had never been used.
The Highlord ascended a flight of stairs, making his way steadily back towards the bridge of the ship, climbing to a broad hall that ran along the ship's spine. Golden panels sloped towards the ceiling, etched and carved with words, as cold braziers flared to life, flickering on as if lit by some ghostly hand. The flames danced as they were reflected off of the carved plates around them.
"It's the Templar's Edict," Galadriel spoke in awe, her voice muted out of reverence as she brushed lithe fingers across the words, "...and lo, the Empire stretched forth its hands, and I, its sword, am commanded to strike down its enemies..." she read aloud.
Darien squared his shoulders, his jaw set, and without a word he moved onwards. He mounted a set of stairs at the far end of the great hall, staring at the mirror black doors, polished till they were almost reflective, making the hall seem longer than it was. The ship felt like that, one great optical illusion. He rested his hands on the flats of the doors and he pushed, the great hinges creaking as the door swung open. Behind him, Ezekiel decompressed again to his full height, looming menacingly as the Highlord walked into the command centre. Darien squared his shoulders, his jaw set, and without a word he moved onwards. He mounted a set of stairs at the far end of the great hall, staring at the mirror black doors, polished till they were almost reflective, making the hall seem longer than it was. The ship felt like that, one great optical illusion. He rested his hands on the flats of the doors and he pushed, the great hinges creaking as the
It was dark, the double tiers of computer consoles remaining inactive, seats empty. Even the operations manuals were resting, still wrapped in their protective coverings. His Marines fanned out, climbing to the upper tiers as Galadriel walked to the great chart table and pulled a long, solid tome towards her, flipping open the pages and shaking her head in wonderment.
Darien stared past her, up to the second tier that opened out onto the bridge. A darkened chair sat lit by a single overhead light, surrounded by repeater displays. He walked forward, noting the anachronistic appearance of the chair: carved oak, styled like a throne, except lacking in any ornamentation. He felt apprehensive as he rounded it, his shard weapon raising as he levelled it at the figure sitting unmoving, waiting.
Kardiac.
There was no doubt in Darien's mind. He stared into the time-withered face frozen in a silent scream. The ravages of three hundred years, even frozen in deep space, had mummified the corpse, still dressed in the blue-trimmed great coat that marked him as the Bishops' Warlord. The elegant black rose hanging about his neck, once such a symbol of his power, had been unable to save him from his fate.
Death had claimed Humanity's greatest butcher. He sat facing the dark observation dome, overlooking the stars he had almost subjugated. The man who had come within a hair's breadth of burning the entire universe in his fanaticism had frozen to death in the cold vacuum of space.
Darien felt no compassion. The young Highlord VonGrippen faced his predecessor's nemesis. He had seen with his own eyes Kardiac's legacy on the devastated world of Ararat, witnessed first hand the vicious power of Kardiac's vengeance that had shattered the Arcanis moon. He'd seen the venom of his poisonous teachings twisting people, good people, into tools of his will... his eyes flicked up to Galadriel who stood unaware of his grizzly find, reading through the book, turning its worn pages.
"Your Lordship," Hobbes approached the lower stairs, "You should come and take a look at this..." he said, sparing a glance towards the chair before looking again at his Highlord, "Petty Officer Firlotte has found something you should see."
Darien nodded, lowering the shard weapon, clipping it to his belt as his eyes remained fixed on the corpse. He tore himself away from it, joining Hobbes as the Marine led him around the CIC towards the attached computer core.
Firlotte was standing with his flashlight pointing down at the dark red liquid beneath his feet, turning slowly as he backed up, glancing across at Darien in wonder. "I-Its..." he stammered.
Darien knew exactly what it was. Firlotte stood above the liquid state memory core of an Artificial Intelligence Computer. A duplicate in almost exacting detail to the one that gave the Exalibur her life. Commander Durnham had insisted that the Exalibur was unique, that no one in the Empire had been able to duplicate the complexity that had gone into the creation of the UN-built computer. But then, he had also said that pocket battleships were theoretical models...
"Is it awake?" he asked cautiously, "Is it aware of us?"
"No," Firlotte shook his head, "It was never brought online." He shook his head. "The processing banks... the storage cores... we'd be able to upgrade..."
"No," Darien shook his head stepping back, "Leave it alone. If it is an AI then it's a sentient being and we have no right to disturb it. I want this chamber sealed off and a guard posted, I also don't want to run the risk of waking this ship up." He settled deeper into the folds of his coat, looking down at the core. "There is no telling what is programmed in there."
* * *
"Exalibur is uneasy about this," Commander Durnham paced unsettlingly across the 'quarter deck' as the upper tier of the bridge had been affectionately dubbed. His arms were tightly folded and his eyes never left the bridge monitors.
Shale grunted his agreement, the Exalibur slipping quietly into the adjacent berth of the derelict station, the ship's thrusters slowing her as she pulled to a gentle halt, the station extending its moorings to secure the ship in place. Docking tubes latched into place on top of the hatches as the larger ordinance tube connected, pressurizing ready for the work that was about to commence.
Shale nodded his satisfaction at the helmsman, who shut down the Exalibur's main drives. He stared grimly out of the observation windows across at the Lex Talionis, its dock lights on, picking out key features of the ship's construction.
Mayfair hobbled forward on his crutches, resting beside the Taïrian Captain, blowing out a whistle as he stared over the high arching lines of the dark warship's hull gliding over the cannons that bristled along its back. Imperial dreadnaughts, like the Anger of Hades, were formidable ships in their own right, but even they lacked the air of sheer ominous menace that surrounded the Battleship.
"Why do you suppose he made it?" Mayfair looked up at Shale questioningly, "Kardiac, that is."
Commander Durnham stepped forward, removing his glasses and adopting, absently, the tone that often reminded the crew of a university professor delivering a lecture. "He wanted Exalibur," Kit held his glasses to the light again and began to polish them with his tie, "He needed a warship that would be capable of penetrating the defence platforms that surround Arcanis, to deliver his doomsday weapon and finish the war. Exalibur was, at that point, the only Strike Cruiser left after the battle of Skyella. But with our withdrawal..."
"He wouldn't have had time to build that," Mayfair nodded to the warship, "After Skyella, didn't Kardiac surrender the remnants of the Imperial fleet?"
"He signalled the surrender," Kit placed his glasses back on, frowning again as he removed them to polish some more, "But as to what happened to him after that... well, it was generally accepted that he committed suicide rather than be taken alive by the Amsus High Command and tried for his crimes."
"How long to build a ship like that?" Mayfair asked.
"Three years under ideal circumstances," Kit frowned, "Maybe less if he took an existing cruiser hull and retrofitted it with armour and armament. Exalibur became a Command Carrier after a retrofit. This ship is more intricate; integrating those cannons into the warship's power grid, the armour plating... I'd still give it a year at least."
"A year," Mayfair whistled, "Kardiac was sitting out here for a year, watching while the Empire collapsed."
Shale turned from the pair, motioning to the Exalibur's weapons crews, nodding for the COB to begin to send his teams across. The Highlord's orders had been specific: get aboard, get what they needed, and leave. And Shale was in complete agreement with that assessment.
* * *
"He killed them," Galadriel said, standing at the backlit chart table, the ship's paper logbook before her, a look of shock on her face, "All of them..."
Darien rested a hand on her shoulder reassuringly as he looked down at the entry she was reading. "He'd failed," The Highlord said calmly, "His great ambitions, his dreams... he'd failed."
"Nearly eighteen months," Galadriel shook her head in wonder at the ship about her, "They were done, a ship that could have made such a difference fighting the Amsus, it might have even stopped them from invading Earth... but he wouldn't let them take it back. He wanted..."
"He wanted Arcanis." Darien surmised, staring up at the back of the wooden chair where a couple of the Exalibur's orderlies were removing the corpse gently, ready to take it across to the Exalibur under Darien's orders. The body belonged to House Kardiac, and part of him hoped that returning it to them would once and for all close the book on the madness of the old Empire.
She shook her head, swallowing, as she remained strong. "W-we were taught that he loved the Empire, that had he been able to fight the Amsus, he would have. I-I don't agree with what he did, but you have to understand that he was a hero to our house, that we believed in him, three hundred years..."
"The man was blinded by rage," Darien stated flatly, "But ultimately he was still just a man."
"You don't understand," Galadriel murmured, turning the page back and pointing, "They refused to obey his orders, refused to take the ship to Arcanis, insisting that they could save the Empire. Templar Lamont, the son of the Bishop and one of Kardiac's most loyal men, was about to lead a mutiny, to take the ship by force... he... he..." She bit back her anger, and Darien could feel the sense of betrayal she exuded, "He sealed himself up aboard this ship, and ordered the station's computer to open all external hatches. He killed them all, his Loyal Templar, who only wanted to go back and save their homes..."
Darien closed his eyes, feeling his arm pull her close and letting her cry her tears of rage. Everything she had believed in, everything she had been taught, had been nothing more than a lie. There was only one redeeming point to the whole tangled mess; Kardiac had died alone, his ambitions never having been realized.
He let her go, walking around as the orderlies lifted the body to a stretcher, the blue-trimmed greatcoat sliding to the chair, one of them reaching for it.
"No," Darien shook his head, picking the heavy greatcoat up and folding it over his arm, "This belongs to Colonel Ramsey. He," he looked towards the corpse, "Lost his right to it three hundred years ago."
"Skipper?" Lauren called from the weapons tier on the starboard side of the CIC, and Darien moved around the command centre to join her, leaning over one of the weapons consoles they had brought back to life, a couple of the Exalibur's laptop computers and a portable generator allowing them access to the weapons inventory, "I thought you should take a look and come up with a shopping list..."
Darien shook his head. "Take everything,." He said calmly, "We can sort it out once it's aboard the Exalibur, the less time we are here..."
Lauren nodded her understanding, sliding into the small chair and punching in a few commands to the computer, "That leaves us with... one problem." The screen resolved to an inventory manifest, the computer scrolling down and selecting the four Type Nines, the space-to-surface torpedoes capable of destroying entire worlds.
"Them as well,." he said softly.
Lauren stiffened, "You..."
"We're fighting for the survival of the Human and Taïrian Races," Darien said, straightening up, "Pray we never have to use them."
* * *
"This place gives me the creeps, chief!" One of the red-shirted ordinance men from the Exalibur's flight deck complained as he piled crates of rail cannon ammunition onto the load lifter. He shifted to look over at the COB supervising the emptying of the Lex Talionis's magazines.
"Shut up and keep working," the chief growled, walking around a rack of Reefer anti-capital ship missiles, smiling happily when he caught sight of the Switchblades. The anti-fighter missiles, sitting next to several large freight crates, were desperately needed by the Exalibur's fighter crews to supplement the 55mm rail cannons mounted by the F-150 and F-175 fighters. An edge, at last, over the Polian-enhanced predators.
He paused, a kid-in-a-candy-store expression spreading across his face as he looked over the second batch of missiles. SAK-IIs, Search And Kills designed to home in directly on enemy search RADAR, lethally effective at blinding enemy capital ships. He gestured to one of his crews, ensuring that they were the next batch of missiles to go across to the Exalibur. The little yellow plane tractor hooked onto the hitch and wheeled the missile rack over the hatch and down the broad corridor designed for ferrying ordinance to and fro.
A secondary team were working in EVA suits, opening the outer missile hatches to the nuclear silos. Without a specially designed ordinance barge, the process was slow going. Petty Officer Firlotte had suggested using the Dragonfly Thrustlifter, assisting the external crews by carrying the missiles one at a time across to waiting crews on the hull of the Exalibur, who assisted in lowering the powerful weapons into place, rearming the Exalibur's silos.
"Chief?" A gunner's mate called him over, standing arms crossed, out on a small catwalk above racks of combat drones.
The COB stared at them a moment, considering. There was no one capable of piloting the damn things. Little bigger than the size of a high performance motorcycle and armed with a pair of auto-maser cannons, they were practically useless even for spare parts.
"Leave 'em," the Chief replied, gesturing back in towards the main armoury, "Let's focus on the missiles for now, and worry about the small stuff later... Commander!"
Lauren led two platoons of Marines, heavily armed, into the magazine. She nodded her head to the Chief, the Karin Marines gesturing for the ordinance crews to keep back as a couple of Marine Officers moved towards the large vault-style door across the metal catwalk above the drone racks.
They worked swiftly, disengaging the locks as the doors hissed apart, a couple of marines moving forward to attach the hitches to a commandeered tractor, forming tight ranks as the first of the Type Nines began its journey to the Exalibur. Lauren, tight-eyed and grim-faced, rode with the torpedo, pulse rifle balanced across her knee.
* * *
SECURITY BREACH IN PROGRESS......
BOOT SEQUENCE........................100%
COMPLETE
COMMAND LINE INITIALIZED...............
* * *
Darien sat in the Lex Talionis's command chair, his hand rubbing his jaw thoughtfully as he stared through the window at the bright golden haze across the stars fading to a dull, muted red as the Yeji-Sola star's ambiance shifted again. The play of colours was amazingly beautiful that close to the system's primary, and it was like being aboard a ship awash in a sea of light.
"Sir," Petty Officer Firlotte approached the recessed bridge from the large CIC, "The first Type Nine is safely stowed aboard the Exalibur, the second is going aboard now, and they're loading the third."
"Good," Darien replied, returning his gaze to the stars. "How long until the rearming is complete?"
"We're progressing well. We have ninety percent of the rail cannon ammunition. There are five more nukes left to go, but we have all the lighter missiles," Firlotte checked his clipboard, "I've got engineering crews transferring spare parts... but I wanted to know if you wanted to have me disassemble the jump drive..." He paused, noting the distracted look on Darien's face, "My Lord?"
Darien felt something, an uncoiling; it was faint, but growing. A flush of panic, followed by iron cold resolve, a probing...
He stood from the chair, staring first at it, then across towards the computer core still sealed, under its Marine guard. "The ship is awake,." He said calmly, "Order the last Type Nine loaded, quickly now, and grab whatever you can and order our people out." He walked down purposefully towards Lieutenant Galadriel and gestured to the logbook. "Bring that," he commanded, "We're leaving."
"You are not." The softly rumbling voice sent chills through Darien's spine, as at the far end of the CIC the doors slammed shut, the distinctive sound of a locking mechanism engaged.
Darien's hand slipped to the shard weapon in his pocket as he turned back, slowly, to look up at the man standing before the throne-like chair, regal and poised, staring back down at him in an unadorned black uniform, the white priest's collar stark against his throat. His hair was swept back into an off -centre part, and slightly pulled back in a vaguely Eastern European style. His dark hair shone in the light as his pale grey eyes burned.
Kardiac Aul'Jakaram, the Templar-Warlord.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his eyes scanning down Darien's great coat and resting on the red lapels.
Darien gently guided Lieutenant Galadriel back behind him. Stepping around the chart table, he looked up at the ghost. "I am Darien Taine, Highlord VonGrippen. And you are the liaison to the Lex Talionis."
The image considered him, lifting a shard of black crystal to the crook of his arm. Darien's eyes narrowed recognizing the Peligian crystal, yet his eyes returned to the hologram's face.
"The Highlord VonGrippen?" The being's eyes flicked away as he turned to look at the chair, "I..." he paused turning back, "My sensors are detecting another ship. The Exalibur is here."
"She is," Darien confirmed, "We are rearming and re-supplying before we engage the enemy. You have been asleep for three hundred years."
"Three hundred years..." the hologram looked drawn, lifting a hand and staring at it, "I will need access to the Exalibur's computers to update myself on current events..."
"No," Darien replied firmly, "You will release the doors and commence shut down procedures immediately." He gestured for Firlotte to begin overriding the door.
The hologram inclined its head back towards Darien. "Of course Highlord, my apologies, I was activated once the seals were broken on the Type Nine weapons locker. I will commence shut down procedures immediately."
* * *
Commander Durnham looked puzzled. "Did someone authorize access to my historical database?" he asked, looking up at Colonel Mayfair.
Mayfair frowned. Pulling himself away from overseeing the reloading of the nuclear silos, he climbed to the upper bridge tier, resting on his crutches as he looked over the data transfer, completing in seconds.
"That was...fast?" Mayfair looked confused.
"I've never seen a download occur with that level of rapidity before," Commander Durnham replied, "We should alert the Highlord."
Mayfair nodded in agreement. Hobbling back towards one of the bridge crew, he spoke to them in a low tone as Captain Shale moved around the bridge. His eyebrows creased in thought as his gaze lifted and travelled across to the Lex Talionis. The Thrustlifter was winging its way back for the last few nuclear missiles.
* * *
The door released, swinging open again as the hologram clicked his heels together and bowed. "There," he said warmly, his purring accent made him seem all the more threatening, lacking any kind of sincerity behind the words.
Darien gestured for the teams on the bridge to withdraw, turning to Galadriel. "Get to Exalibur... now," he instructed, "Let them know what's happening." He glanced towards the hologram, watching as the teams withdrew.
Galadriel gritted her teeth, hurrying to carry out the Highlord's orders, as Darien began to follow her.
"Highlord Taine," the image called as the doors slammed shut again, sealing him, alone, with the ghostly image.
Darien took a long, and frustrated, sigh as he turned. "Yes?"
"I am aware of who you believe I am," the hologram descended to the deck and walked through the chart table, "However, I wish to assure you that I am not Kardiac. I am a digital recreation, an extension of the Lex Talionis, an Imperial Warship. You have a similar system aboard mother..." he paused, correcting himself, "Aboard the Exalibur."
"I know what, and who, you are," Darien replied calmly, "The discussion is a moot point. You will release the doors and deactivate yourself."
"I am aware of the imminent Amsus Invasion. I can assist you, if you trust me." The hologram reached out a hand and rested it on the Highlord's arm. There was no pressure, the hologram couldn't affect anything directly - the gesture was just a mimicking of human behaviour.
"You are giving me no reason to trust you," Darien said evenly, "I told you I didn't want you to update your information from the Exalibur's computer, you did it anyway. I instructed you to release the door, and you closed it again." Darien's eyes hardened. "And I asked you to deactivate yourself, and you have not done so."
"Can you not see the mistake you are making here?" the hologram asked, "I am the Lex Talionis, singularly the most advanced warship in existence. I possess a vast array of weaponry, unequalled computing power, surpassing even that of the Exalibur. My systems are augmented by captured Polian technology." He sneered. "And unlike your ship, I am no cripple."
"That is a matter of perspective," Darien replied evenly, "I have given you an order, Lex Talionis. Obey it."
"As you command, Highlord." Lex Talionis bowed his head, the doors unlatching again as he vanished, the consoles around the bridge once again going dark.