The Lazarus War: Artefact by Jamie Sawyer Page A

these people weren’t just reading from my personnel file. “You’re becoming something of a legend on the Point . Of course, we all know about your personal link to the Treaty. Your views on the same have been made known to Command on a number of occasions. In any case, Colonel O’Neil speaks very highly of you. I understand that you know each other quite well.”
    I hadn’t spoken with or seen O’Neil in months. Maybe that was why Cole was briefing me; because O’Neil knew that there was a fair chance I’d fail to attend, notwithstanding his post as my CO. We had a history together, one that I didn’t much want to share with civvies and brass.
    “That’s right,” I said. I chose my next words deliberately, for their neutrality: “The colonel is an associate of mine.”
    “This is my adviser Mr Evers,” Cole said, indicating to the speaker.
    Evers and Jostin were identically dressed in dark business suits complete with neckties. Both were in their thirties, Earth-standard, and had the polished appearance of corporate men. Greased black hair, unnaturally tanned skin. I hadn’t seen folk like this on-station in a very long time – the perils of time-dilation caused by Q-jump technology and the sheer expense of carting civilian reps this far out of the Core Systems meant that communication by other means was preferred.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch where you two were from,” I said.
    “We didn’t say,” Evers replied. “Doesn’t matter much to your operation, Captain, but we are representatives of an industrial corporation. Interested parties in the outcome of your next mission, shall we say.”
    Evers smiled now as well. His teeth were perfectly spaced and frighteningly white.
    I immediately disliked these men, even more than Olsen. It was a sign of the times, I supposed, that corporate interests were making their presence known out here again. The Krell War wasn’t hot any more; the vultures would start moving in now, eager to make their credits from the carcass before it had completely cooled.
    “We’re all aware of your service record,” Cole said, waving his hand dismissively at Evers and Jostin. “You’ll be glad to know that we’re not here to talk about that, anyway. I’m satisfied that you and your team are the right people for this job.”
    “And what is the job?” I asked, apprehensively. I had sat through hundreds of briefings – restricted, high profile and otherwise – but none of this felt normal.
    Cole pointed at the graphic on the holo-viewer.
    “Welcome to Operation Keystone. This is the Helios Star System. Eleven worlds orbiting two stars, one of which is dying. Of interest to us is Helios III – the only planet within that system that harbours any form of life.”
    The planet was brown and white. A band of space debris lazily circled it, not quite densely packed enough to make a proper orbital ring. Through the debris, Helios was swathed in heavy cloud cover and pocked by dark rifts. It slowly turned on its axis and the display showed technical data as it went.
    “A fascinating place,” Olsen chipped in. “Really unique. Almost entirely desert, but supporting a complex weather system. It has extensive underground lakes and rivers. Basic insect life—”
    Cole interrupted again: “Mr Olsen is correct, but none of that is why we are interested in it.”
    The holo-display shifted to show grainy deep-space survey images of the planet. Great weather-beaten expanses. Craggy mountains, battered by constant winds. Death Valley on a grand scale. The sort of planet that the Alliance and Krell had fought over innumerable times in the history of the War—
    There’s something else there .
    I leant in a little, an image stirring my curiosity.
    A vast angular structure jutted from the desert. It was positioned atop one of the mountains, elevated above the desert. A ruin of some sort. It was difficult to obtain any sense of scale from the image, but I got the impression that it