The Guardians of Sol (4 page)

*****

“So where exactly are we headed?” I asked the enigmatic Captain.

“Block One. The Sentinel wants to see you. He doesn’t do this kind of thing very often so you can imagine how… intrigued and excited I am to be involved.”

“Do you have any advice for me… for whatever this is that I’m being brought in for?”

“Oh sure. First off, don’t make any aggressive moves anywhere near the Sentinel’s direction or Telamon, or one of the other Spartans, will probably gut you. Second off… just be respectful. He likes it when people are respectful, he did earn his position after all, and he doesn’t take it for granted. Ah, we’re almost there.”

The tram stopped and Christoph led me to the door of a lift that was guarded by two Spartans in their bronze power armor. They let us pass without any trouble and Christoph used a passcard to get the lift moving. After a moment the doors opened to a chamber that was remarkably large given how limited space tends to be in space. There were more Spartans posted along the walls of the circular chamber. There was a comfortable looking chair at the opposite end where a distinguished man was sitting.

This then, was the Sentinel. He was a lean man wearing a grey version of my own uniform, although his had sleeves. Though not skinny by any means he was certainly in shape for his age, with graying hair, and a well trimmed goatee. The man next to him was wearing an unarmored Spartan’s version of the standard Castigar uniform. He had a dark beard shot with silver, a glowing artificial eye, and a confident smirk.

The Sentinel stood up and addressed us. “Ah! Captain Castle! Finally we meet! Christoph, my thanks for bringing him here. You can have the rest of the day off, my boy. Give Izzy a kiss for me.”

“I will, Dad. Be gentle with Rhys, okay? I don’t think he’s ready to accept that the Sentinel is a crazy old man.”

“Then what do I pay you for?” The old man replied.

“Since when do
you
pay me?”

The leader of the Guardian Corps and the Confederacy of Sol that we all serve gave the Captain’s retreating back a smile. “My only child. Isn’t he something? He became a First Tier Swordmaster only two years out of the academy. Second youngest Swordmaster ever. Amazing,” The old man crossed the room to me and held out his hand, holographic displays springing to life in the air around him. He just walked through them.

As I shook that hand, I think I mumbled something along the lines of “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

He smiled at me and replied. “Maybe not as much as you want to think, but we’ll see.” Telamon, the Captain of the Sentinel’s Guard, chuckled at that. Singly, either man was intimidating, but together they had moments where they were downright menacing. And it was clear they weren't even trying. They weren’t even physically imposing. I had a few inches on either of them, but the way they held themselves made them seem much larger.

“Now, I take it you have no idea why I had my son bring you here, yes? Well don’t worry about that just now. Christoph likes you, thinks you’re
special
. He thinks you could be accomplishing more than you have been. What do you think?”

I took a moment to compose my racing thoughts so that I could do something more intelligent than blurt out half-mumbled words and sounds that would be reminiscent of a giant slug partially covering an air-intake valve on an air system.

“I don’t think, nor have I ever thought that I am special. I just do my duty and try to keep my men alive so that they can go back to their families at the end of the day.”

“Oh good answer, Captain. Very politick.”

“Very earnest.” Telamon chipped in. The Sentinel gave the man a long-suffering look, which merely caused Telamon to shrug back at him.

“Anyway. You’re record is exemplary. Second only to the Captains in my Specials battalion. Were you aware of that?”

“No sir, I was not. I had absolutely no idea.” I really was astounded. I think I was starting to get an inkling of the purpose of this meeting, but I was still mostly mystified. “If I might ask, sir, what does my record have to do with anything?”

“Your record suggests that you
might
be special, and your attitude and answers with me and my son suggests that you
are
special. And so-”

Telamon cut him off again. “Michael, remember when you were subtle? Those were good days, weren’t they?”

The look the Sentinel gave his bodyguard and friend was much more savage than the last one. “Subtlety aside, Captain Castle, I am offering you a position in the Specials battalion. You will have the right to name your squad, you will get customized armor that harnesses the newest breakthroughs in technology and among other things you and your men will receive pay as if you were all a full rank higher than you are. Are you interested, son?”

I was struck speechless, I was so shocked. I spoke/mumbled what I thought was “Yes sir. I’m honored for this opportunity and I won’t let you down.” But I’m afraid it may have gotten jumbled since my brain was suddenly firing only half its cylinders. This was a step for my career that I could have only dreamed about. The Specials were the best of the best. Regardless of what escaped my mouth, the Sentinel gave me a smile, clapped my back and told me that he was glad to hear it.

“You will, of course, still have your two weeks of R and R, although I would appreciate it if you visited Bay Chief Ruiz in block three, sooner rather than later, so he can get working on your new armor. Once you’re done with your leave I’ll send you orders. So go out and enjoy. You’ll have plenty of work soon enough. I understand you have plans with your friends that Christoph and I interrupted. You’re dismissed, Captain. Enjoy yourself.”

I saluted and walked back the way I had come, numbly hoping I wouldn’t get lost and so lose out on the delicious food offered by Stacie’s Restaurant, but obviously still a bit preoccupied with what just happened. Jimmy and John weren't going to believe me.

*****

After Captain Castle was safely out of the room the conversation continued, and the consequences of that conversation would be felt within months.

The High Sentinel turned to Telamon. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one. But I still can’t believe my predecessor put Joshua in the specials at all. Let alone as Captain of the First squad. The man is a mad dog who shouldn’t even be in the service.”

“But you can’t argue with his effectiveness. The First Squad has never lost a man and never failed a mission. That has to stand for something, right? I’m not going to defend him though. You did right by putting your son in charge of the group. Of course, you realize that since the battalion is going to have a full company now that you’ll need to put someone who is at least a colonel in charge, right?”

“I do and the newly promoted Colonel O’Neal has already been approached by Venator Simeon about the job,” Michael McCulloch looked at one of the holographic displays that listed the squads and captains in the Specials battalion. “Christoph is taking his squad out to the Pluto outpost. We need a new recruiter. Who do we have on the station that’s stable enough to take that over?”

Telamon called up a manifest from his personal pad. “Cari’das and the second squad are back with the tech from that Republic assault. I don’t think they completely understand how we operate yet or normal human behavior so he’s probably not a good choice. Joshua is still taking his time harassing that AEU army even though he was due back three weeks ago… It looks like Jacob and Frank just got in from an intervention in the Sudan. Everyone else is on assignment elsewhere. Do you want me to send those two over?” The Captains of the Fourth and Fifth squads never did anything without each other. They were old friends and highly competitive. They even argued about who was inducted into the Specials first.

“Yes, do that. They’ll be able to cover more ground than any of the others, and thank the Light that their feud won’t let them accept just anyone for this. Imagine what one would do to the other if he recruited an inferior unit. I’ve been getting some reports from around the system that bring up questions without answers and I have a bad feeling that we’re going to need Beta Company up and running as soon as possible. We’ll need all of them, mark my word.”

“Word marked,” Telamon replied. He checked a data pad that he pulled from his belt. “The
Liberation
is on schedule with its refit. We’ll be riding in style to this year’s summit in Kyoto. Anything else you need me for Mike? Delilah’s shuttle should be here soon and I’d like to meet her at the airlock.”

Michael McCulloch smiled gently at his friend. “Give her my love, and I expect a full report on all the children and grandchildren later.”

“Will do, my friend. See you tomorrow.”

June 1, 2289. The Forge, Block 7

The man that stood before me was well-muscled but only of medium build. The Vindicator danced back and forth before throwing a straight and powerful right-handed strike at me. I brushed his blow aside with my forearm and stepped in to drop him with a hit to the chin. The bell proclaiming me the winner tolled as the referee raised my arm. I was, however, disappointed. The man had had a fearful reputation and the match only lasted about twenty seconds.

Perhaps I was expecting too much, I was tournament champion two years running after all. Still, I had hoped that some my fellow Guardians would rise to the occasion. Over the next few hours, I took out three more Vindicators and four Castigars. Only the man after this Vindicator had given me any trouble. He opened a cut on my forehead before I was able to take him out with a left hook. I had a few hours to rest before the final match, so I decided to stop by the cafeteria to see if I could get some decent grub.

My shoulder still hurt, and it was maddening. It had nothing to do with my opponents so far today; none of them had come near it. It seemed that even with the regenerative treatments, that tank had done a lot of damage to me. At least the pain wasn’t slowing me down. The last fight was always the worst. Once I finally got back to the gym I found a quiet corner, and with a full belly, settled in for a nap.

*****

Something nudged me, yelled at me, but it was not enough to actually awaken me. "Come on, Rhys! Wake up, slag it! I'm your X.O. for Pete's sake - who is Pete anyway? - You should listen to me!"

Sighing, Haywire pulled back his leg, and kicked me in the head (lightly, of course). This actually got my attention, in that I tried to hit Haywire.

"Blast it! What was that for, Jimmy?"

"Well boss, your final match is in 20 minutes. I just thought you'd want to be awake for it."

"Oh... I see. I guess what I meant was: WHY DID YOU KICK ME?"

"I tried everything else short of my pistol," James "Haywire" Freed sighed again, very theatrically. "That skull of yours is just too thick for your own good."

I finally looked at my executive officer; the African - tall, rangy, and amiable - was almost indistinguishable from the black of his uniform.

"You really don't have anything better to do than to kick me?"

"Of course not. Because I want my credits’ worth out of you and this last match. The whole squad is banking on you."

I glared. "Oh, thanks for that added bit of pressure."

"Happy to help!" Jimmy smiled broadly. "Heads up though, this last guy is apparently a Spartan of some large reputation. Or at least that’s what his squad mates keep saying."

"Spartans aren't so tough..."

"I'm sure you'd like to think so, but don't take this one lightly. His squad mates call him 'Ruin.' The fellow even has a huge omega symbol tattooed on his back. He might be fresh out of the Agoge but still... Be careful, boss."

"Yeah, I'll see you at the ring. Oh, and I think that the Pete in Pete’s sake probably refers to Saint Peter. Although if it does I don't know why. Stay out of trouble, brother."

"You know me, brother." Haywire sauntered out to the stands surrounding the ring, by the squad's reserved seating.

*****

It felt like someone had hit me with a sledgehammer. The Spartan's fist slammed into the side of my face. I kept enough of my wits about me to use the force of the blow to spin a backhand into "Ruin's" face, staggering the man back a few steps.

We stared at each other, catching our respective breaths. I was bleeding from the cut on my forehead again, as well as just under my ear and on my right cheek; my left arm felt slightly numb. The Spartan had similar cuts on his face and seemed to be favoring his ribs on one side. The bell ending the round sounded. We went back to our respective corners.

I sat down for a moment, sparing a glance over by my squad. There was the cutest, most irresistible little technician by them. I had been lucky enough see Rachel every day since we had gotten back to the Forge - I gave her a wink. She smiled and blushed! Now that was the best thing I had seen all day! The bell rang out again - have to finish this now, I thought, before I fall down.

I started in immediately with a left hook. Ruin ducked under the punch and replied with a biting jab, knocking the wind from me. I returned by chopping down hard on the Spartan's injured side. Ruin's leg buckled, I skipped away to take the time I needed to catch my breath a little.

Ruin tentatively got back on his feet, and grinned. I couldn't help but shudder at the insanity that seemed to be bred into these Spartans - the harder the fight the more savage - and gleeful - they became. I had just been complaining about easy fights though, hadn't I? Hard hurts, but is usually more fun.

Ruin and I came at each other with a flurry of ferocious blows. We kept hammering at one another, until I was finally able to slam a meaty fist into the Spartan’s jaw. Yes, I called my own fist meaty.

Finally the black-bearded madman went down. The count went up: One... Two... Three... The Spartan tried to rise, Four... He staggered, Five... He fell back to his knees, Six... Seven... He glared daggers at me, Eight... He fell to his back, Nine... He took a deep breath and sighed, Ten...

The referee raised my hand, and announced the win. Haywire came up, taking me by the shoulders to steady me. The Spartan gained his feet after a minute or two, still didn't seem all that stable.

"Hell of a fight, brother... I am Hektor, at your service," Reaching his hand out to me.

"You Spartans sure have a way about you. I'm Rhys Castle," Pointing to Haywire. "That's Jimmy Freed. You just gave me the best fight of my career... Let's try not to do that again. Ever."

"Hah!" Hektor burst out. "No promises. You’ve bested me. It’s only proper that I try to return the favor next year.” The younger man made some odd noises in his throat. “I'm thirsty; let's go get some drinks, brothers."

“I’m going to have to take a rain check on that, Hektor. I already have plans for tonight, but I’m sure Jimmy will be happy to commiserate with you. See you guys later.”

Haywire gave me a sad look as I abandoned him to the tender mercies of the Spartans, but there seemed to be a smile as part of it so I assumed the best. I turned away from them and made my way to where the rest of my squad was waiting, triumphant grins on their faces. I do believe that I had just doubled their income for the month. Rachel ran over and threw her arms around me, and then immediately backed away.

“You stink!” She told me, all concern gone from her voice and manner. “Shower before you pick me up tonight.”

“What did you expect? I’m covered in blood and sweat, of course I’m going to stink.”

I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “But I guess I’ll do as you ask. Just this once. Now if you’ll excuse me, beauty, I have to let to the medic check me over before I get cleaned up. I have one or two other things to take care of before dinner too.”

*****

Later that day, still smarting from my wounds, I made my way over to one of the engineering blocks. More specifically, I made my way to the bay where all of the technology for the Specials was maintained and developed. I did, of course, hope that this preliminary meeting didn’t take very long. I had that date with Rachel tonight, after all. I turned the corner of the corridor to where the bay was…

And threw myself back, barely missing impalement on a Ring Jumper’s spiked armor. The man and his team walked past me as if I weren’t even there. Arrogant bastards. In all my time in the Corps, I think I have only met one likeable man from that space-born branch of Castigars. Their armor is hardened to the rigors of space, so it is appropriately bigger than anyone else’s except perhaps the first specials squad’s. It is covered in straight spikes they use to attach themselves to floating rocks, and the forward facing barbs on their gauntlets are attached at the base by a cord, that can rocket away to facilitate their movement through the rings of their Saturn home or a battlefield. The only real problem with the men is that they don’t seem to have a concept of where they fit in the tapestry that is the Guardian Corps. Without that concept they have become arrogant and conceited. Far too firm in the belief that they are better than everyone else; though they see far less combat than the average Vindicator. That is why they tend to be ostracized by the rest of the Corps. I nursed a private theory that they neglected the philosophical courses that are an integral part of the Swordmaster program.

I brushed myself off, though dust was rare on the Forge, and headed into the engineering bay, growling about the Ring Jumpers. The bay Chief, Ruiz, looked up from what he was doing and acknowledged me with a wave. He said something to the man he was with, who sported the red and brown unit patch of the Blood Wolves, and let an assistant take over calibrating the man’s cybernetic leg. Ruiz came over to me.

“Finally, someone who shows up on time,” the grizzled engineer growled. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or annoyed by my presence. “Damned Ring Jumpers came in twenty minutes late and still have the nerve to mouth off to the guy certifying their armor. They shouldn't have even been assigned to my bay!” he referenced something on his PDA. “Captain Castle, right? Let’s step into my office so we can discuss the particulars of your squad’s new armor. This way.”

Ruiz was a middle-aged man, seemingly tired and world-weary, but he was very satisfied with his life. I followed him into a corner room where shelves and even the desk were cluttered with gutted, twisted, and burned out pieces of equipment.

“Alright, first things first, do you have the things I told you to bring?”

I rummaged through my pockets for a moment before pulling out several very wrinkled pieces of paper. I smoothed them out as best I could and handed them to him. The older man gave me an incredulous look. There may have been a few specks of blood and coffee on some of the papers as well. I just shrugged and smiled. He sighed and looked through the forms.

“So your new squad is going to be called the Thundermakers? How did you come up with that?”

“A few bruises and a couple black eyes,” I said. “My boys and I have an affinity for Norse mythology I guess. Of course, a few wanted something with a different theme, but they were outvoted.”

Ruiz grumbled. “Well we can work with anything. At least your theme is fairly easy.” Indicating another sheet, he continued. “Now this unit crest, it makes sense given the name you want, but are you sure this is exactly what you want? Once I put everything in the system it’ll be damned hard to change anything.”

I considered the sketch, it was a simple affair. It was made up of a war hammer; business end down, over a field of lightning. “That’s the basic idea we want. If someone can make it look prettier we certainly won’t argue. What’s next?”

He shuffled through the sheets mumbling to himself. “Gold/blue color scheme, that’s simple enough, eagle crests on the helmets, doable…” He took a breath and looked me in the eye. “These forms all seem to be in order. Who did these sketches?"

"Squatter, uh... Kyle Moss," I replied. "He's the best artist in the squad. I probably should have had him fiddle with the crest now that I think about it."

Ruiz grunted. "Now as for the basic weapons systems, thanks to your stalwart defense, we’ve been able to get the research back up here, and produce upgraded plasma cores. We can fit three of them in the standard-size Castigar armor you want. The new cores should increase power by about five times, and they mostly recharge by drawing on ambient energy. So really, anything you want, we can put in. Even plasma weapons.”

That last part surprised me a little. “I thought plasma weapons couldn’t be miniaturized enough for armor. What changed?”

“What? Oh, no no no. It was never a matter of miniaturization, but power. With the new plasma cores coming from manufacturing there’s more than enough power to equip your armor with a plasma equivalent to a chain gun or cannon. Perhaps we could even rig you up with guns depending on how we configure the systems. Like I said, if you want a weapon on this armor, we can fit it in.”

“That is one of the most wonderful things anyone has ever told me,” I replied to him. For the next half hour we talked about the relative strengths and weaknesses of each type of weapon, as well as the style of combat that my squad hoped to employ. We settled on a solid ammunition machine gun in the left forearm, a plasma cannon over the right shoulder, a plasma Gatling over the left, a short vibroblade in either gauntlet, and a plasma knife housed in the underside of the right forearm.

“Looks like a solid, balanced weapons system you’ve chosen, Captain. One last concern before I let you go. Are you planning on using swords as your primary close combat weapons? I know that’s a popular option, and we can do a lot with them.

“That’s the plan,” I replied. “Unless you have any better ideas for me.”

“I might… come back in a week, and I’ll have a presentation for you. It should truly impress. There are some things I’ve been playing with. A week will give me time to work some of the kinks out. I’ll get all this entered so my crew can start working on it. Get your boys to come on in in a week and a half so we can tune the new armor to each man. We already have your old armor ready to break down in one of the alcoves so I know a few of the suits are going to need a good bit of customization.” Ruiz smiled. “Now I’m sure a young pup like you has better things to do than listen to an old man ramble on about work. Get out of here and try not to do anything too stupid in the meantime, alright?”