Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift (21 page)

“The liner is secure. We have the Governor. The President is dead, though. He raised a weapon, so we were forced to take action.”

* * *

Alliance Defenses, Old Spascia City, Helion Sector

The bayonet slid quickly into the Thegn as Teresa stabbed down. The first strike had glanced off, and she had nearly fallen over. The second one she delivered with more care, and this time it punched into the neck and down to the ground. Without thinking, she yanked on the gun and twisted it around. The tearing effect on the creature’s throat easily ripped it open, spilling bubbling blood over the ground and onto her boots. She looked up at the confusion that now completely surrounded her.

“Keep moving forward. Grab everybody you can find. Leave nobody behind.”

She lifted the carbine back to her shoulder and stepped away from the body. A grenade exploded three meters away and showered her in dirt. It did nothing to slow her progress. Four other marines formed up alongside her, and they advanced one step at a time. All around them more marines fought tooth and nail for every meter, while at the same time the Vanguards and a handful of CES engineers ran amok amongst the defenders.

There they are.

Just ahead were black shapes and the continuous flashing of guns. She increased her speed and jumped atop the ruins of a shattered Eques walker. From this slightly elevated position, Teresa could see the remains of the four city blocks and the thousands of enemy bodies that littered the place.

“Teresa?” said a familiar voice.

She lowered her eyes and found a group of Jötnar standing in an oval with scores of marines around them. Gunfire flickered around them, but they had positioned dozens of Thegns into some kind of sandbag position. She dropped down and landed among them at the same time as the rest of her unit. Even as she approached the Jötnar, the first of the Vanguards clambered over, pushing past the exhausted defenders. A single Decurion pushed up from the bodies and threw itself at the group.

“Colonel!” shouted one of the Vanguards.

Not even Gun was close enough to stop it, but it didn’t matter. Teresa twisted just a fraction and pulled the trigger. Her carbine hammered into the machine, and it staggered and stumbled to one side, bringing it closer to the Jötnar. One of Gun’s warriors grabbed it with his armored paw and yanked it nearer. One by one, the other Jötnar stamped and shot at it until the thing lay shattered and ruined.

“Damn good to see you,” said Gun as he opened his visor.

Explosion after explosion lit up the background, and Teresa realized she’d forgotten to check the time. With a quick glance, she could see they still had minutes. Gun looked at the blasts and then at her.

“A creeping barrage, very nice. I assume it’s time to go?”

Teresa nodded and then looked about the battlefield. Gun stepped toward her, his armor groaning from the damage it had taken.

“He’s here.”

He pointed off to the right where two Bulldogs and an artillery pieces formed a curious piece of cover. Inside the ruins were seven marines, each injured to various degrees. A female marine went from one to the other as she tried to stabilize the wounded. At the same time, a pair of Khreenk warriors fired from the top of the wreckage and off into the distance. The female marine spotted her and began to salute. Teresa shook her head.

“It’s okay, don’t. I’m Colonel Morato. I’m looking for…”

“Jack?” Private Jana Jenkell answered.

Teresa looked down to the bodies and the multiple wounded. Right in the center was a shape that was impossible to confuse. He lay there, his visor open, and his eyes closed. He armor was stained with a dull green mark and covered in corrosive burns. The sight of him lying there made her take a single stumble back. Her foot caught and then firm hands caught her.

“Teresa, he took a blast from a Khreenk weapon,” Gun said as he held her.

A hundred tiny lights flashed in the distance, and the projectiles clattered among the defenders. Two marines were killed, but the rest of the gunfire rattled about the improvised defenses. Teresa moved toward her son, but Gun held her back.

“No, not yet. He’s unconscious. Get us to the bridges.”

Teresa continued to pull away, but Gun held firm.

“Colonel. If we stay, we all die. The only way to save him, or any of them, is to get back now.”

Teresa turned around to face him, and for the first time, he could see a burning rage in her eyes. Her face was as olive tanned as ever, but her eyes burned in a similar way to his kin when in the middle of battle.

“To the bridges,” he said one final time.

Artillery continued to strike off into the distance, right into the heart of the enemy positions. Even so, Teresa’s visor showed multiple enemy formations inside the Three Sisters and advancing toward them.

The Khreenk!

A glance to the overhead view showed that small formation of gallant warriors and the robots. According to the mapping information, they were being hit with brigade strength numbers. It was an impossible defense.

“Marines, we have to leave, now! Leave gear behind, take the wounded, and fall back to the bridges!”

The fresh marines swept through the rubble and opened fire on the approaching enemy. At the same time, more of them surged throughout the small four-block enclave and grabbed whomever they could find. It started as dozens, then scores, and finally hundreds were moving back in a slow, bloodied column. A squad of medics loaded more wounded onto three mules. Teresa spotted Jack being loaded onto one, but Gun was already calling to her. She closed her eyes for a moment, tried to take a calming breath, and then followed him.

“There’s an advance party of Decurions a hundred meters there.”

He pointed in the direction of the artillery fire. Flashes were at every point, but the closer ground continued to move. She altered her optics and nearly stumbled at seeing them.

“The Decurions are tough. Hard to spot in the broken ground, and the artillery barely touches them.”

She could see the explosions and the fact that the machines simply ignored the blasts. Occasionally, one would be hit and might lose a limb, but not even that could stop them. Much further back, the newly arrived Thegns were sheltering in cover from the artillery bombardment coming down upon them. The Eques walkers continued their slow, methodical advance, but the gap between them and the Decurions was increasing by the second.

He looked back to her and grimaced.

“If we don’t do something about them, they will overrun our column before we get halfway to the bridges.”

Teresa nodded in agreement.

“So, what do you suggest?”

Gun looked at what forces remained. His troops were exhausted, low on ammunition, and more importantly, almost every one of them was wounded in some way.

“What are your troops like? Will they stand?”

Teresa mouth changed to a smile.

“Of course.”

He nodded.

“Good. We’ll set up a firing line with a single L56 there.”

He pointed in the direction of the broken Eques walkers that Teresa had climbed over.

“That will be our firing line.”

He then turned about and faced the direction the enemy was coming from.

“Give me a single platoon and join me over there.”

He pointed to a lower wall nearly thirty meters away, a terrible place where the marines had been defending from all out Biomech assault for hours now. It was around a meter high, and there were scores of bodies from both sides all round it. Two L56 machine guns lay broken to one side, along with a squad of marines killed where they stood. All that remained was a single SAAR robot that continued to blast any targets of opportunity. Whoever had been maintaining it had left two crates of ammunition connected to its hopper. The barrels hissed from the excess heat generated by near constant shooting.

Gun moved to the wall and proceeded to drag the bodies of Thegns out of the way before lowering himself down. The SAAR robot continued to shoot, uncaring about the fact that its primary weapon was seconds from failure. With one arm, Gun dragged a broken Decurion and pulled it over his torso.

“You’re not serious?” she asked.

The requested platoon moved in around them, and their lieutenant approached Teresa. Gun watched in satisfaction as the man did not salute.

“Sir, where do you want us?”

Teresa looked down to Gun who nodded slowly back to her.

“I need you and your marines to hide among the dead. Wait until my command. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Lieutenant passed the orders on to his sergeant who was already barking like some angry dog. It didn’t take long for each of them to find bodies and equipment to hide under. Finally, Teresa joined them, choosing to shelter under the remains of two broken Thegns.

Even today there are those that argue about the effectiveness of edged weapons in the Proxima Emergency. Very few people that were there at the time would agree with the argument. Assessment after the conflict showed that almost a third of all Confederate casualties were caused in hand-to hand-combat. These injuries included cuts, stabs, and bites. It was this exposure to such ferocity that saw the development of weapons such as the advanced L52 carbine, a weapon capable of performing the same job as the venerable L48. More importantly, the weapon featured a high rate of fire mode that could shred multiple targets in seconds.

Edged weapons in the Emergency

Alliance Defenses, Old Spascia City, Helion Sector

The first sign the enemy was close was the crunching sound of the SAAR robot being torn apart. Teresa watched the icon for the machine flash as a warning before deactivating as it was destroyed. That meant two things to her, first, the machine had gone, and second, the Decurions were about to overrun their position.

What if they detect our heat signatures?

Her pulse quickened as she realized the machines might simply move amongst them and stab and kill any one they found. It was too late to change now, and she was forced to remain under the bodies and wait for whatever was coming. She lay there for three minutes until finally she spotted movement. At first it looked like a slowly moving cloud, but then she spotted the legs. The machines scuttled over the bodies with speed and precision and then on toward the gun.

That’s something at the very least.

She moved her finger very slowly around the grip of her carbine. She’d been still so long that cramp had begun to settle in. She could live with that, but with the numbness she’d started to doubt the gun was even still in her hand. Feeling the hard material was immediately reassuring. Teresa moved her eyes from left to right and identified six machines in her vicinity. They had gone six meters past her, and from what she could hear, even more were climbing overhead.

How many more?

The visor overlay wasn’t particularly helpful. She could see that over half of those on this side of the battle were now at the bridges. The Khreenk were giving ground and withdrawing to one of the smaller bridges.

We don’t have much more time.

Another group of Decurions passed overhead, but that appeared to be the last of them. The machine gun blasted at them, but most of the shots were too high and easily missed the targets. Teresa just hoped the gunners were protecting those hiding under the bodies, and not simply failing through fear or incompetence.

“Now!” Gun bellowed.

Teresa pushed hard and found herself stuck. Panic was settling in, and she kicked and struggled until the Thegn pulled off to the side. She lifted up to one knee, spun about, and took aim. The first burst struck the back of a Decurion, right in the center mass. It dropped to the ground, its internal functions shattered. More marines appeared, and the gunfire tore into machine after machine. Gun took the longest to emerge, and four Decurions immediately made for him. It was a futile gesture; the great warrior tore them limb from limb while shouting insults.

One marine was pinned by two of the machines, and they quickly dispatched him with stab after stab. The sharpened tips at the end of their limbs easily punched through the PDS armor as though it were no more than a thin sheet of plastic.

“Help him!” yelled the Lieutenant.

Another Decurion leapt from the outer wall and decapitated the officer with a single slash. Two marines turned their guns on the machine, and with high-power rounds blew off chunks of metal and limbs until its remains lay quivering on the ground. Teresa ran over to the pinned marine and lowered her carbine to fire at point blank range. One blast was all she could muster before the one to the right twisted a limb about and smashed her carbine from her hands.

“Gun!”

She didn’t bother looking for aid, and instead whipped out her handgun and emptied the clip into the machine. Her heart was pounding as she faced off against the horrific thing.

“Die!” she screamed.

Teresa knew only too well how ineffective a pistol would be. Yet she continued to shoot, and half of the rounds managed to cause damage to its torso. They tore into the metal plating, but the Decurion was still able to deliver a final stab to the poor marine before turning to face her. Gun stormed into view and kicked the machine against its comrade. As the two tried to untangle themselves, Teresa retrieved her carbine while Gun punched and kicked at them repeatedly. Only one continued to move, and a short burst from Teresa quickly finished it off. They looked back to their unit and found they’d suffered only modest casualties. The last three Decurions had been forced back to the outer defense and were easily picked off by careful carbine fire.

“Excellent work, marines,” said Gun.

He watched with a wistful look as the machines’ assault faltered and then completely failed. A squadron of Hammerheads swooped overhead in a low, high-speed pass. All of them opened fire at the advancing line of Thegns and Eques walkers before vanishing off into the distance. Incredibly, not one of them was destroyed.

“Good, that will buy us some time.”

Teresa looked about their position. The wounded were already being carried past the machine gun position and on to the bridges. One of the sergeants continued barking his orders, and each squad fell back in good order. She looked about for signs of Jack and was relieved to see the group of injured had made it out of the maelstrom and was already at the main bridge.

“It’s time to go.”

They joined the others and climbed over the wreckage to leave with the rest of their forces. Teresa couldn’t help but turn around and look back at the enemy. The sky above them was black and filled with clouds. Movement could be seen everywhere, and the bulk of their numbers couldn’t have been more than a kilometer away.

“How the hell will we stop this?”

Gun looked back and laughed.

“The way we always do. With bullets, blood, and sweat.”

* * *

Taxxu, Uncharted Space

Spartan kept his eyes closed and tried to recall what he’d just seen. The numbers, the pageantry, and the sheer amount of technology on display was staggering. Never before had he seen such advancements in one place. His memories of the Bright Horizon were clear now, and each time he thought back, the other memories began to fade. He could see the look on the face of his mother when they reached the lifeboat, the blood from where his father had been cornered and butchered, and even the empty escape hatch where the lifeboat had already been jettisoned. He thought back to the days and weeks that followed, and found some of the images too much to bear.

So much death and destruction,
so that was my childhood?

The one image he could not shake was that of him being restrained by Confederate security troops. At some point, they had boarded the ship and found him. As they helped him out of the ship, he was almost blinded by the bright white lights of those waiting outside. Some were doctors, others the press. But the one thing he kept hearing over and over again was people asking how he had survived. The very last memory he could find was of him looking back at the vessel from a window aboard a station or other ship. The wide umbilical shaft connected them together, and teams of medical staff were bringing bodies out of the infamous ship. A man leaned in close to him and spoke in a soft, friendly voice.

“Son, how did you survive in there? You’re the only one we found alive.”

Spartan shook his head and cast the memory aside for now.

You can reminisce maybe when all this is over, and if you’re still alive.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into blackness. There was nothing out there, just the cool, dry feeling of the interior of the ship. His mind had drifted and for a little while he found it difficult to get his bearings. Images of ships, battles, and training all flashed about his eyes. He leaned forward, and the lights in the room flickered into life. He found himself looking right into the face of Thayara who sat on her own bunk opposite him.

“What is it?” she asked.

Spartan still found it odd that he could understand them all, even though his mind was telling them they were speaking in an alien tongue. As the light increased in brightness, he could see her skin lighten until she seemed to reflect the very light itself. Her cool, black eyes looked back at him inquisitively.

“You are concerned about the simulation?”

Spartan thought back and then shook his head.

“No. The simulation was fine, just like the last ten of them.”

She moved nearer, leaning from her bed and under the ceiling mounted strip light. The harsh lighting cast long shadows down her lithe body, and only then did Spartan realize she was naked. He moved back a few centimeters.

“What is it?” she asked, following the gaze of Spartan as he looked at her from head to toe.

“Does my form offend you?” she asked.

Her tone wasn’t coy or playful; it was anything but. As usual, Thayara was all about the work, and the looks she was receiving from Spartan were intriguing at best, but more likely annoying. Spartan cleared his throat.

“On my worlds, we do not present ourselves unclothed to each other.”

Thayara sighed and then rose to her feet, exposing herself to him even more clearly. He could see her skin now under the light, the pale smoothness, and her long black hair that disappeared behind her back.

“Your people are primitive, Spartan. We were like you once, before we embraced passion. You hide behind clothes, rules, and bureaucracies. Is it no surprise your people are so angry all of the time?”

She turned away to the single washing area they had been provided with. It was completely open to the elements and consisted of a marked section that blasted the floor with moisture that evaporated after traveling just a few meters. She stepped onto the plate and was quickly surrounded in the cleansing mist. Spartan watched her as the fluids ran down her flesh before fading and vanishing before his eyes.

“If your people were so advanced, why do they spend so much time fighting each other?”

Thayara turned to face him, deliberately baring her full form to him. Spartan chose to accept it and looked at her face with a whimsical expression.

“I did not say we are perfect. But we do leave with our worlds in harmony. All of our colonies are self-sufficient and when we do fight, it is between the Anicinàbe only. I have seen reports on your wars. You will fight and leave nothing alive, plants, creatures, oceans, and forests. You will consume and destroy them in your violence and greed.”

She shook her head, and her long black hair flicked from side to side. The fluid ran off and across the room. Spartan half expected it to strike him, but just before it could make contact, it vanished into a fine mist that did little more than cool him.

“Perhaps, but there’s a reason I’ve been chosen from all of my people to help end the violence out here.”

He lifted his arms and turned about, as though he could encompass the whole galaxy within his own arms.

“You remember the last simulation, do you not?”

She looked at him with an expression of wry amusement about her face. The strange fluid ran down her shoulders, over her chest, and then vanished just as it hit the ground. The light played with the paleness of her skin and made flashes of reflection and color about her body.

“The assault on the Byotai flagship was a victory for both of us, that is true. Our numbers were even, and I suffered fewer losses than you. I don’t see how you consider your attack more successful.”

Spartan rose to his feet and moved close to her. He continued until he was standing just a meter from her naked body, deliberately moving into her personal space. He sensed a moment of hesitation in her, but then finally she settled.

“Thayara,” he said, shaking his head, “you lost three Ghost Warriors and killed everybody on that ship. What did you achieve?”

He spotted something off to the right. At first he thought it was just a moving shadow, but then he noticed the subtle dome in the ceiling.

So, they like to watch. I thought as much.

He looked back her and waited for an answer.

“I achieved a victory. I wiped out our enemy for minimal losses. I destroyed their ship with precision strikes, as well as every soul on board.”

She laughed, a short, irritating cackle. The sound was enough to drive any desire Spartan must have felt at looking upon her nakedness.

“You were responsible for badly wounding twenty-five Ghost Warriors in your own attack. How is that better?”

Spartan smiled.

“Because I only killed six Byotai, including their commander in an honorable fight in front of their warriors. I did not kill them from afar where they were unable to defend themselves. They fought and died with honor, and because of this, I was able to dictate terms. From the bridge of their own ship, I forced their second-in-command to surrendered the ship and their warriors to me, and left him in charge.”