Brotherhood in Arms: “Huron” base
Former outpost in orbit of the gas giant in the SY3176-GIII-A4 system.
A few years ago.
«…After we took all the ordered clone bodies out of the city, Hate ordered us to destroy the tracks. No one should have known about our assignment. No one should have known exactly what Hate looks like. Captain Kelvin personally detonated up the thermonuclear charges that we had previously laid at key points in the sky city. A cleansing nuclear flame destroyed the entire population. The fragments of the city will burn up in the atmosphere of the planet during the year, and no one will ever know where Hate draws her strength from... ”
I leafed through a few pages in small, fine handwriting. A few drawings. Buildings, ships, and dreadnoughts drawn with a firm hand. And here is the Temple. And the mysterious symbols around it. A scheme? A map? Strange notes next to it: “Five feet tall, three can fit in a row”. It is worth returning to them later.
«…This is my last post. Hate brought me here, and here I will stay. When the last shuttles launch into orbit and the black dreadnought disappears in a warp jump, I will enter the last command into the terminal removed from the ancient ark. I will turn on all defense systems. No one from the outside can get to where she sleeps. After that I will take the poison. I hope no one will disturb our sleep for many, many years. I am happy to give my life so that she continues to live and can fulfill her destiny. Remember me. Your Lieutenant Hari. Forever and ever.”
“What an interesting find,” I thought, as they called me:
— I see you found a diary that I forgot here? Could you return it to me? The book is entertaining, but extremely dangerous. It would be better if I took it away.
A tall black-haired man in light pilot armor stood at the bend of the corridor. A standard army assault rifle comfortably settled on his arm. Exactly the same rifle hung behind me. Just behind the man in the heavy assault armor, stood two more soldiers. A bit shorter than him, but wider at the shoulders. The mirrored visors were closed. Shoulder turrets trembled slightly in target lock mode.
—- Are you sure? — my mouth felt treacherously dry. — I found it here on dusty boxes. I would like to be sure that you are the owner.
I was playing for time. And the stranger probably understood this. As luck would have it, I was completely alone in this sector of the station. The rest of the group remained in the hangar to figure out what treasures they had found in stacks, randomly littering all the berth decks.
— This is the Huron base, — the stranger smiled a little. — And Huron is me. — This means the diary's mine.
While I was frantically looking for an answer, Huron took a couple of steps towards me and held out his hand. This where it all began. A powerful explosion tore through the hull of the station a little further down the corridor. At first, a shockwave swept us off our feet and covered us with garbage. And then the abyss beckoned us along with the oxygen. The automatic guards of the armoured suits slammed shut. A powerful stream of atmosphere escaping into the hole threw me onto the smooth walls of the station and dragged me out. At the last moment, something sharply stopped my flight. Huron grabbed my assault rifle strap with one hand, and the other held tight to the staples in the floor.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens and the sounds of closing automatic bulkheads were heard. One of Huron’s soldiers flew past us quickly to the hole in the hull. He gained decent speed and very skillfully knocked out a fighter trying to look into the hole. Judging by the colouring of the spacesuit, it was a cyber. Not the most pleasant option.
Pressure fell, and we were able to take cover behind the next bend before the cybers started throwing grenades. Huron touched my helmet with his. “Communication channel No. 23”, — said the interface string. I quickly switched to the shared channel.
— Shchekn-1, give us a passage, — Huron habitually gave orders in a calm voice. — Shchekn-2, give me a picture of what is outside.
The Huron soldier, apparently the very same Shchekn-1, sharply raised his rifle and shot at the wall, making an additional corridor for us.
— Let's go, — Huron looked at me. — Are you with us? Cybers do not like imperials.
I nodded and ducked into the gap after them. Behind us, grenades began to explode, then something more powerful thundered. But we managed to get down a couple of levels through the breaches in the walls and bulkheads and were already far away.
—There are no walls that I could not destroy on our way, — Huron clearly quoted someone as he made his way through the rubble of abandoned equipment.
We quickly passed several sections of the station and ended up at one of the berths. On the launch pad was a small, but clearly high-speed vessel.
— We need to leave. Too much valuable junk will have to be left at this base. But to take everything is simply impossible. The lovers of easy money have rushed here. Looks like someone leaked the base coordinates to all the mercenaries. You're staying?
I wanted to answer that I would stay behind and survive on my own. But at that moment, a dozen barrels opened fire on us. Damned scumbags seem to be everywhere and shoot first then ask questions later. We lay down behind the structural pillars of the ship, shooting somewhere up and to the side. Shchekn-2 got up and, covering us with his body, started frantically shooting with a large caliber.
— It's time to go! — Huron pulled me along to the ship. There was no other way.
Everything sparkled and exploded, as in a wild sort of disco. Hiding behind a human shield, we took refuge in a ship and a moment later were already outside the station. It turned out to be fun there too. Many ships had a wild dance, winking with lasers and exchanging missiles. Shchekn-1 suddenly burst into the wide open hatch. Fixing himself in the aisle, he opened fire on targets invisible to us.
— Looks like we lost them, — Huron turned to me. — We made a detour. You can jump next to your flagship. Are you ready?
I nodded. Shchekn-1 has already cleared the way. Both gunmen hung fastened in their niches, ready for hyper-jump.
— Thanks for everything, — I hesitated, but still handed the diary to Huron.
— Always happy to help, brother, — Huron took it and put it in his vest's pocket. —Here is my number. — He threw me a data packet through the connection. —Maybe we'll meet again.
I shook his hand and stepped out. The side of the imperial assault cruiser, on which we'd arrived at the station rose very close like a wall. The ship of Huron disappeared in the blackness of space in an instant.
***
— An interesting story, — the Sec officer, who has been interrogating me for four hours, leaned back in his chair. —So you still gave the diary to him? And you never met him again?
— I refrained from ill-considered contacts, without consulting with you, — it seems that the time has come to lay out all the trump cards that I have reserved for an emergency. — I had to give the diary. It was a gesture of goodwill. Maybe the key to future friendship.
— Very sorry. The book would be very interesting for us.
— I gave it away, but when I looked through it, I managed to take a copy of all the pages. I always do this with supposedly valuable materials. Here is the file.
— We were right to trust you, Lieutenant Larsen. What do you think about working for the security service? Well, let's say, for starters, as a centurion. I am sure you will quickly make a career with us.
Sincerely,
Star Conflict Team