Monolith the transcended.., p.1
Monolith (The Transcended Book 6), page 1
Monolith
The Transcended Book 6
Anthony James
Contents
Foundations of Clay
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
© 2019 Anthony James
All rights reserved
The right of Anthony James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser
Illustration © Tom Edwards
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Foundations of Clay
Fleet Admiral Scott Cody drummed his thick fingers against the surface of his desk, producing a heavy rhythm. Opposite, two of his research leads waited for him to speak. One of them clutched a brown folder containing a thick wad of paper.
“You have called me away from an important meeting.” Cody said the words flatly, their meaning clear.
Research Lead Lila Soto was in her late twenties – they all seemed so damned young these days – with an expression which suggested she was torn between excitement and sheer, abject terror.
“This can’t wait, sir,” she said.
Cody stopped his drumming and made an impatient gesture with one hand. “So you said.”
Research Lead Bernie Pugh tried to smile. He was clearly finding it hard to control his nerves and his lank hair was plastered to his forehead, in spite of the room’s chill. Pugh leaned forward in his seat and offered the folder. “The conclusion is on the first sheet, sir.”
“I’m not going to like this,” said Cody, taking the folder. His eyes scanned the words printed on the front cover: Semi-Theoretical Propulsion Outcomes. He opened the folder and started reading.
Neither Soto nor Pugh spoke and they waited for Cody to finish. Pugh fidgeted, pulling at the dark blue cloth of his uniform.
Thirty seconds later, Cody dropped the folder onto the desk. “I knew I wasn’t going to like it.” He sighed. “Has this been through validation?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cody reached for the folder again, thought better of it and withdrew his hand. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Soto and Pugh shook their heads at the same time.
“No, sir,” said Pugh. “None of us in propulsion have the faintest idea what any of it means.”
With a short, barked laugh which contained absolutely no humour, Cody stared at the two research leads. “If the contents of this report are accurate, you’ve turned everything we know on its head.” He paused. “Not just turned it on its head, but completely and utterly annihilated five hundred years of humanity’s work in this field.”
“As a scientist, I should be proud to be involved in the breakthrough, sir.” Soto’s lip trembled. “Maybe there are some things better left undiscovered.”
“Thank you RLs Soto, Pugh.” Cody didn’t usually bother to stand, but on this occasion, he made an exception. He indicated the door. “This meeting is over for now. I need to think.”
The research leads rose and hurried from the room. When the wood-veneer door slid closed behind them, Cody took his seat once again and put his head in his hands.
Chapter One
The interior of the Hyranus was incomprehensively vast. The three-thousand-kilometre pyramid was riddled with endless corridors and passages, along with factories and production areas capable of creating more or less anything imaginable. Although the combined human and Ghast forces had taken over the command and control area, many parts of the interior remained in Scion hands.
Commander Joe Nation and his squad were part of a much greater effort to flush the interior completely of enemy forces. In theory, the Scions were defeated and just didn’t know it yet. In reality, the aliens were well-armed, organized, numerous and reluctant to give ground. No matter how many Scions fell to the invading forces, more showed up to take their place.
Nation scanned the distant structures from the cover of a wide doorway, with his stealth augment activated in case there was any monitoring equipment watching the doors. His squad had been teleport-dropped into one of the many unexplored regions of the Hyranus to hunt for both Scions as well as any useful intel. It was a dangerous mission, which is why they’d sent Nation and his squad.
It was ninety below zero, with hardly any atmosphere, and the light was a dim, deep red. Nation could feel the resonation of heavy machinery carried in the thin air and it vibrated through the thick soles of his spacesuit boots.
The closest building was eight hundred metres away and its flat sides rose high above the metal floor, with others like it to the left and right. As with nearly everything on the Hyranus, the buildings were utilitarian – designed to fulfil their purpose and nothing more. Several lifter shuttles hovered motionless at an altitude of five kilometres, only a short distance below the ceiling.
“I’m watching your feed, sir,” said Sergeant Karen Ward over the suit comms. “Any idea what the Hyranus made in here?”
Without shifting from his crouch, Nation turned to check that his squad were out of sight. He needn’t have worried – they were professionals when it came to both killing and surviving. The passage leading to the production area was ten metres long and his soldiers were around the corner at the end.
“Weapons and armour,” spat Lieutenant Lois Simmons with unusual anger. “What else?”
It likely wasn’t far from the truth.
“Six months in this place and it feels like a lifetime,” said R1T Ed Cox. “And can’t we change this red light to something else? It’s affecting my retinas.”
“Cruising for a medical discharge?” asked R1T Glen Boucher.
“Nah, this is personal now. I’ll see it through, even if I end up blind.”
“Why do we need to clear the whole interior?” asked the squad medic, Corporal Greg Holiday. “We’ve got the main control rooms. We can take these Scion bastards whenever it suits us.”
“We have to finish this, Corporal,” said Nation.
His soldiers didn’t know that the creator of the Hyranus would be here in a little over seven months. In that time, the Confederation and Ghast Subjocracy had to unearth every little secret within the pyramid. The place held the key to victory over the Creator and as yet, nobody had a damned clue what that key looked like or where to find it. Time was running out.
The worst part of it was, the NM-932 security entity had – in its final moments of existence - severed the links connecting the Hyranus #16 control system to several other sub-systems, denying the invaders access to most of the pyramid’s functionality. The security program had also deleted many of the internal layout files, leaving the allied forces in the dark about where they should focus their efforts. An extensive cross-species team worked night and day trying to patch everything together again, so far without enough success.
Nation’s sensor picked up movement and highlighted it in orange. “I’ve got something at nine hundred metres.”
A squad of four hulking figures strode out from an opening between two of the structures ahead and to the left. Nation zoomed his sensor and saw that the aliens were dressed in the dark red suits which they used in vacuum conditions. The accompanying alloy helmets covered their entire heads, concealing their faces, and each carried a heavy chain gun. Nation detected something unusual – these Scions were different somehow.
“Should we move up and support, sir?” asked Simmons.
“Hold,” said Nation.
He watched for a few seconds longer to see if any more of the enemy would appear.
“These ones don’t look the same as the others,” he said.
“Sir?”
“They’re closer to seven feet tall and broader than most Scions.”
“Ghasts?”
“We have no other squads in this part of the Hyranus.”
“Those are not Ghasts,” stated Zidox.
“I recommend shooting them,” said Corporal Parker. “Whatever they are, they won’t be carrying party food.”
Nation was worried – he could deal with the unexpected, but he didn’t like to think ab out the ramifications of this.
Shorter, broader Scions, he thought, not believing it for a moment.
Nation squeezed the activation trigger on his gauss rifle four times in quick succession, adjusted and fired off another series of shots. The coils in the barrel hummed in perfection and three of the aliens fell at once to the well-aimed bullets. The fourth managed to spray a few dozen rounds from its chain gun in the wrong direction, before Nation finished it off.
The enemy squad lay in a heap, but Nation wasn’t ready to commit his soldiers into the room – not until he’d given any others in the vicinity a chance to show their faces.
“That’ll bring them out of the woodwork,” said Ward.
“No sign of anything yet, Sergeant. Let’s wait another minute.”
“There seems to be more of these bastards every day,” said Parker. “It’s like they’re breeding or something.”
“What exactly is it we’re looking for in this area, sir?” asked Simmons.
Everyone in the assault force had got wind that high command was searching for something, and Nation had counted at least thirty different rumours.
“Intel.” It was about as much as he could offer in response.
Simmons was sharp and she opened up a private channel. “Intel is what gives you an advantage over your enemy in the future, sir. This goes beyond the Hyranus, doesn’t it?”
“I can’t answer that, Lieutenant. Not yet. Whether you’re right or whether you’re wrong, this pyramid contains a wealth of technical information, some of it a hundred years ahead of our own. We can’t leave it in the hands of the Scions.”
“I guess not.”
Nation closed the private channel. Simmons was on the right track and he didn’t like to mislead his soldiers – if anyone deserved to know what was going on, it was the men and women who’d been fighting for what felt like an eternity against the Estral and now the Scions.
No more aliens appeared and Nation conceded it was time to get on with it. He switched off his stealth augment.
“Move up!”
The first of his fifteen soldiers came quickly around the corner, sticking close to the wall. The rest followed after, including the three much larger figures of the Ghasts Zidox, Rivorn and Lek-Ban, until they were lined up behind Nation. He tried to gauge their mood – their morale was fine, but he sensed they would prefer to be fighting almost anywhere other than here. Even on a wind-scoured dump like Rekes.
“Which way, sir?” asked Ward.
Nation set a destination on the suit network, eleven hundred metres away, with a waypoint taking them past the dead aliens. The walls of the target building were only just visible along one of the broad alleys – visible enough for his sensor to detect they were several degrees colder than the walls of every other building.
“My sensor readings suggest the presence of a large quantity of Istoliar,” said Nation. “That’s where we’re going.”
“There’s Istoliar everywhere on this piece of alien crap,” grumbled Cox.
“And each time we find some more, it’s significant,” said Nation. “Let’s move – we’re making a sprint for the waypoint.”
“What do you think they are?” asked Simmons.
“We’ll soon find out.”
Without looking back, Nation set off into the room. He didn’t want to outpace the other soldiers, so he maintained a speed which allowed them to keep up. His feet thudded hard against the ground and he swept his gaze across the distant buildings, watching for anything which might constitute a threat.
Nation was accustomed to operating in places which would make most people feel insignificant. Even so, he found his extended time within the Hyranus was afflicting him with a creeping oppression. After six months of operations, he was ready for something new.
Just like everyone else.
From his periphery, Nation watched Lek-Ban draw level with him, the Ghast showing a surprising turn of speed in his flex-metal suit and with his hundred-pound rocket launcher balanced on one shoulder. Cox accelerated, pulling ahead and the Ghast strained to keep up. Nation grinned to himself at the competition.
The aliens were definitely dead and their dark red blood glistened in thick, crystallizing pools on the floor. Even before he reached them, Nation knew his suspicions were correct. Where the Scions were merely big and strong, these aliens were enormously thickset. He stooped over the closest and noticed that its helmet was a different design to that normally used by the Scions. The alien lay on its back and Nation tried to make out some of its features through the narrow visor.
“What the hell is that?” said Parker, leaning over.
“I can’t see.”
This was important. Nation put his hands to either side of the alien’s head, gripped hard and twisted the helmet. He felt something snap within the collar linking the helmet to the suit. With a sharp tugging motion, Nation got it clear.
“Ugly bastard,” said Ward.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t Scion. This alien’s skin was the putrid colour of a rotting corpse, though it gave off no odour of decomposition. Its face was broad like the rest of its body and it lacked a protruding nose, having two long holes for nostrils. The creature’s mouth was partly open and Nation could see twin rows of needle-sharp teeth. Its eyes were open, staring upwards.
The eyes are the only halfway human thing about it.
“This gun looks strange,” said Cox, poking one of the dropped weapons with the toe of his boot.
“Best leave that alone,” said Ward.
One of the Ghasts stepped in for a closer look. “This is not good,” said Rivorn. “In fact, this is very bad.”
“Yes.” Nation stood. “R1T Reynolds – will your booster pack link to the internal comms from here?”
“Not a chance, sir. We’ll need to go back through the teleporter for that.”
“What now?” asked Simmons. “Should we take the news to Admiral Duncan?”
Nation was torn – this was vital information, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he needed to press on. “Let’s take a look inside this building first – it’s close enough. Fifteen minutes and we’ll head back.”
“There’s an access panel,” said Ward. “A hundred metres past the destination marker.”
“I see it.”
Nation left the bodies of the aliens behind and entered the fifty-metre-wide alley between two of the buildings and immediately felt hemmed in. He glanced up and the perspective made it appear as though he was running at the bottom of a deep, rectangular pit.
He stopped at the access panel – it was another the same as all the rest. Nation turned on his number cruncher with its new, improved algorithms and within a few seconds it had brushed aside the security. When Keller shut down NM-932, she’d inadvertently left the interior security locks permanently active. It was a minor problem that was easy enough to get around, as long as you had a squad member wearing an ISOP-enabled spacesuit.
A short access tunnel led to a second door. Nation locked the outer door open and approached the inner door, waving his squad to keep out of sight. The ISOP got the second door open as easily as the first, allowing Nation access to the interior of what he assumed was some kind of production plant.
At first glance, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The building was filled with cylindrical structures a few hundred metres tall and with a diameter of two hundred, all made from the same dark grey metal. He was able to see through the twenty-metre gap between two of the closest cylinders, which allowed him to count the total number in the room.
Sixteen of these things.
His sensor informed him that the outer surface of every structure was uniformly cold at minus 150 degrees Centigrade.
