Star Crusades Nexus: Book 08 - Wrath of the Gods:

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Ready…Now!”

  He jumped from the modest amount of cover near the door and ran. He made it three meters, and then the marines opened fired. They held down their triggers as they moved. Each blasted at the doorway with a mixture of automatic and high-power rounds. The flash alert sounded on his helmet, and he instinctively closed his eyes. It was unnecessary; the visor was synced to the grenades and automatically blacked out as the first detonated. The system was simple and worked much like that used on welding equipment and helmets.

  General Daniels reached the doorframe and found his path blocked by three of the horrific soldiers. He took aim, but the first took a dozen hits and stumbled backwards. He didn’t even worry about where the fire had come from and crashed through, his own carbine rumbling as he went. Then he was through, and more marines poured in behind him.

  “Keep moving forward!”

  Two Thegns tried to grapple with them, but General Daniels kept going, firing only at those directly blocking his path. He relied upon his comrades to deal with any they missed. They swept inside and followed the path to the control center. All that separated him and his marines from their objective was the metal-framed glass door. He ran at it and threw his entire weight into the door. The glass cracked and shattered in five places. Two more marines arrived alongside him, kicking at the door until two sections ripped off. One of them stepped inside, and General Daniels followed behind him.

  “Secure the facility, fast!”

  He looked to his marines and gave them quick, short hand signals. More of them poured in through the breached doorway and into the control center. It was a big place and on three levels made of semi-transparent metal. Banks of computers were laid out in rows on the top two while the lower level was filled mainly with large liquid cooled cases. Scores of Helions civilians hid and cowered behind the equipment, while a tiny band of NHA soldiers ran in from the top level. They stopped when they ran straight into a squad of Thegns. One of the biomechanical soldiers looked down and raised a weapon.

  “General, look out!” cried out a marine.

  The man lurched out to the front, and a burst of thermal energy struck him in the stomach. The man spun about and dropped to the ground writhing in agony. He wanted to help the man, but the mission pushed to the front of his mind. He directed his marines to put down fire on the enemy’s position. The Thegns were already gone though, as were the NHA soldiers.

  “Useless, every single dammed one of them!” he snarled.

  The NHA had proved less than reliable in the last week, and now he had to secure a site they had promised was near impregnable. More shapes moved to the right, and ten carbines raised as four NHA soldiers moved from the shadows. An Animosh officer led them toward the marines and stopped in front of the General. Just like his men, he wore a dark orange, almost scarlet breastplate and tunic that was covered in a black cloak.

  “What’s your status?” he asked the alien, “Is the defense installation operational?”

  The Helion leader’s face was covered, and his long robes ran down to his feet, easily hiding his features from view. His face was covered in a half mask, something closely resembling a gasmask rather than a fully enclosed helm like the marines, though the top was finished off with an elaborate crest. General Daniels lowered his carbine just as the last few shots rang out inside the structure. Captain Hammond moved to stand alongside his commanding officer.

  “Sir, there’s something wrong with the outer door.”

  He was barely listening. His attention had moved to the bodies on the ground near one of the vertical computer displays. There were multiple Helion dead, and all were wearing the civilian clothing of the computer support staff. Every one of them had been killed, but it was the thermal wounds that almost slowed his heart to a stop. He looked to the Captain and nodded down to the bodies.

  “They weren’t killed by the machines.”

  His voice was quiet, yet all the nearby marines could sense the ill feeling in his tone. Dozens more marines were now inside, and all of them kept their weapons raised, each expecting trouble. Most of the marines moved off to search the levels, but a core group stayed near the doorway around their commander and lifted their weapons, scanning for potential signs of the enemy. General Daniels kept his eye on the Animosh commander and spoke quietly over the internal audio network.

  “Captain Hammond, the outer door?”

  The officer nodded.

  “Sir. There is a computer override in progress. I’ve position the SAAR robot to guard the entrance. We have an entrenched squad waiting for them.”

  Both of them looked to the Animosh and noted more of them seemed to be coming out from the darkness. First there were less than a few dozen, and then there were six groups, each numbering between five and ten Animosh warriors. They carried an odd variety of weapons that included short thermal rifles, shotguns, shields, and maces. The later weapons were closer in style to the weapons used in Earth’s Middle Ages.

  “General, we have Maulers on the ground. You have three minutes to blow the site, then get your asses out of there.”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then noticed the expression on the Helion’s face. At first he was confused, but it was clearly a smile, and far from a friendly one.

  “Human,” it started, with an extended emphasis on the first syllable.

  A pair of marines ran to the base of one of the computer systems and opened a case on the ground. The front slid to one side, revealing a complex timed thermite charge. The second one took out a control unit, but one of the Animosh soldiers stepped toward them and pointed its weapon at them. General Daniels spotted the problem and stepped toward the Animosh leader. One of its retainers said something in their alien tongue, but he did recognize one word.

  Lyssk!

  His brain was already powering ahead, but deep down he knew exactly what was happening. He stopped and felt for the catch on his carbine. None of the other marines appeared to have worked out what was going on, but he was sure of it. A quick scan from left to right of each level logged and tagged the Helions on his targeting computer. The numbers were about equal, at least based on those he could see.

  “Marines, it’s Justitium Lyssk!”

  He dropped to one knee and lifted his carbine. The Animosh must have been expecting trouble because they still managed to open fire first. Captain Hammond was first to die. The unfortunate man was hit four times, twice on the chest and twice in the face. Before his body even hit the ground, the entire command center exploded in a violent firefight.

  “Admiral Lewis, it’s a trap! We’ve been betrayed. Justitium Lyssk is here…”

  He ducked to one side, blasting one of the Animosh with a short burst. The enemy leader had moved back, his path protected by many of his followers. He tried to go forward, but the return fire from their rifles and shotguns proved too intense. The armor of the marines was proof against many small arms, but in tests, the short-ranged heat weapons of the Helions proved easily capable of melting even the thick plating of Vanguard armor.

  “He has control of the facility! I repeat. The Planetary Defense Installation is under enemy control!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Battlecruiser was the ship design made famous in the bloody days of the Uprising. Fast, powerful, and filled with the latest in railgun technology. After that costly war, there was a great push for more flexible vessels that could function as capital ships, escorts, and even transports. The subsequent expansion into the Orion Nebula showed that this class, though extremely capable, would need modification. Some operations required more powerful ships, while the ability to launch large marine assaults or carrier operations proved too much for the much more modest Crusader class. The design was stretched and extended until it produced the powerful Battlecruiser known as the Conqueror class. This ship could be outfitted as an assault ship, carrier, command ship, or even a simple ship of the line. As the war with the Biomechs continued, so the importance of these powerful
ships increased. The ultimate design would be ANS Warlord, a simple fusion of two Conqueror hulls together to create an Alliance super-battleship.

  Origins of the Battlecruiser

  Admiral Jarvis Naval Station, T’Karan

  The Naval Station was more than an Alliance staging post. It was the most substantial military installation ever built outside of the core planets. What was even more impressive was that its key components had been shipped and assembled in less than a year. Month by month, the automated mining and engineering machines of the Alliance continued to extend and enhance its capabilities as they burrowed deep into the original piece of drifting flotsam. The station was now close to the equal of the old Titan Naval Station in orbit over Proxima Prime, and coming close to the capabilities of the Prometheus Station.

  The station’s cavernous shipyards, research facilities, and troop barracks made it the equal of an entire star fleet. It wasn’t just its size that gave it its power; it was the substantial defenses that would only ever be built on a facility constructed on the frontline. Raised towers, turrets, and fast launch bays had been removed from scrapped warships and fitted to cover every approach. Fighter squadrons crewed by Alliance and T’Kari pilots ran patrols throughout the T’Karan System, and escort class vessels protected convoys between planets, moons, stations, and the Rifts. In many ways, T’Karan was the most militarized and also the least populated part of the Alliance, an odd, but necessary arrangement in such turbulent times.

  Admiral Anderson walked back and forth while the senior officers continued to discuss the latest news. In the center of the room was a massive holographic model of the Helios System, with lines connecting it to the worlds of the other alien domains, as well as the Rift gateways leading to T’Karan and the Black Rift. It was a strategic map, and the amount of red as opposed to blue and green showed just one thing.

  We’re losing, he thought.

  It didn’t surprise him; the situation was hardly unexpected based upon the forces at their disposition. He looked at the imagery and then to those senior officers and officials; many presented by virtual presence projectors inside the Naval station’s Command Center. This was the central strategic post in the entire Alliance, and where Admiral Anderson had conducted combat operations, logistics, and intelligence missions. Even so, there was the ever-present oversight from Terra Nova, and right now, the very people that put him there were holding him back. The station’s communications officer caught his attention.

  Finally, it’s here.

  “Priority message from Intelligence Director Johnson has arrived, Sir.”

  The video stream and associated material transferred to his personal screen. At first, it was nothing other than a series of hexagonal shapes he had to manipulate to match his personal security mark. After a few more seconds, the imagery dropped to the bottom and was replaced by a short summary from Johnson himself. He read the few sentences and began shaking his head in a mixture of surprise and shear annoyance.

  That idiot. That complete and utter idiot!

  The report lacked video, and he could see why. Without reading it again, the material began to break apart as the time-delayed decay routine scrubbed every letter from his system.

  So, the President has called on the Senate to give him full military control. He wants to go past me and the other commanders. Why?

  “Admiral, the President is ready,” said the same officer.

  “Good, put him on.”

  The shapes of the President and a number of his senior advisors appeared. The imagery was almost perfect, with only the smallest degree of digital noise and corruption. All wore sharp black suits and were immaculate, from their shiny shoes to their dark ties. The very look of so many reminded the Admiral of the images of the Kerberon underground, with its criminal gangs and black marketers. The very thought of their plotting and scheming sent a shiver down his spine.

  Calm down, you fool. They’ve not said a word yet.

  That part was true, but the alert from Johnson had given him just seconds of advance notice. It wasn’t much, but it did allow him to do one thing. With his fingers moving quickly, he keyed out a short message and hit send.

  He’ll have to get here fast.

  “Admiral. I’ve some major news for our forces and outposts in the Orion Nebula. We’ve seen the reports from Helios, and quite frankly, we are stunned at the successes of the enemy.”

  The station’s chief communications officer caught his attention with an emergency alert summons. It was a rare event, and standard protocol required the officer to interrupt him, even when in the middle of something as serious as a meeting with the President of the Alliance.

  “Sir, Admiral Lewis has sent a flash alert. The enemy is trying to assemble a blockade over Helios Prime. He is sending his last ships down to assist with the evacuation of the planet.”

  Admiral Anderson knew what that meant for him, though. By making that decision, Admiral Lewis was committing his Naval forces to the battle and would be unable to leave. Operation Citadel would have to be launched to both assist the Admiral in his operation, but also to give him even the smallest chance of escaping the hell that was now that world. Even as he looked at the reports, he could hear the annoying drone of the President from his left ear.

  “…but new information from the Anicinàbe is greatly disturbing and has caused a major crisis here on Terra Nova. I have received petitions from Euryale, Kerberos, and Prime about our heavy losses on the frontline. The public wants to know why our troops are dying.”

  Admiral Anderson looked at the man and wondered why this news was arriving literally the moment he was about to give the order for the largest operation in Alliance history. The idea of a crisis so far from the frontline was almost amusing. The only worlds hit by any kind of enemy attack in recent times was on Mars and at Prometheus. Even the ambush near Terra Nova had been in pursuit of a battlegroup heading for Prometheus. He wasn’t aware that Terra Nova had faced a single direct threat in years. The time delay caught up, and it was now time for him to respond.

  “President Harrison. I am on the cusp of sending our entire expeditionary force through the Rift. My ships are waiting just a kilometer from the Rift, and their troops and weapons are loaded and ready for battle. Admiral Lewis needs to be relieved and fast. Can this discussion not wait?”

  The delay was short, but enough for him to be able to check on the arrival details of another three Alliance ships. They were all veteran Crusaders from the initial arrival in T’Kari space. There were also two small T’Kari escorts traveling with them, a reminder that the almost extinct race was still about, and keen to do their part. He might have been pleased at their arrival, but this contact from the President made him nervous. Instead of speaking with their captains, he now had to spend time with what he considered barely better than amateur bureaucrats.

  “We’ve just received word from our counterparts inside the Anicinàbe territories. As you know, the entire region is something of a problem, with no central government and multiple tribes in a constant state of flux.”

  An image appeared alongside the President. It showed a number of alien ships of similar designs in a prolonged engagement. The configuration was vastly different to the kinds of vessels used by the Alliance, with their emphasis on speed and elegance. Both fired powerful weapons that inflicted substantial damage before one accelerated away, leaving a trail of broken debris behind it.

  “The fighting between three of their factions has intensified, and there has been a series of violent raids between many of the factions themselves, especially this one known as the Red Scars.”

  Another man, one unfamiliar to Admiral Anderson now began to speak.

  “Apparently, this group takes their name from the fact they were originally outlawed by the other tribes. They cut themselves as a reminder of the generations of slavery and torture they suffered at the hands of their own people.”

  Text appeared alongside his images and confirmed the m
an as Kocho Trajchevski, the Secretary of State for the Colonies. He hadn’t even heard of the man before, let alone the title.

  Another civilian department created in the middle of a damn war.

  The man brought up images of the Byotai border that appeared alongside him.

  “Our ambassador on the Byotai homeworld confirmed they have redeployed their forces to protect their trade routes. The Anicinàbe are no great friends of theirs, but it is this group of raiders and pirates known roughly as the Red Scars to us that are causing most of the trouble. The Byotai pushed them back across their border, but that has created an even bigger problem.”

  He moved a set of stars maps and schematics to the tactical display. The imagery was also duplicated automatically onto the screens in the command center around Admiral Anderson. One in particular appeared over a mining world. The Admiral was forced to lift his hand to the side of his face for a moment, to hide the expression showing that he found impossible to mask. The sheer anger he felt right now was rising, and he knew that every minute spent talking probably meant another ten dead marines.

  “…this is Karnak, one of the disputed Anicinàbe worlds. The Byotai chased the Red Scars here and assaulted their base of operations. The Byotai took it with heavy losses and are refusing to cede it to the Anicinàbe, not until they receive certain security guarantees.”

  Admiral Anderson listened carefully, but at the same time brought up details of this new department on a secondary display. He had been given de facto military and civilian jurisdiction out in the Orion Nebula, and this new department sent a chill up through his body. He operated through the military chain of command, and that meant he answered directly to the civilian government though the Secretary of Defense. General Rivers might be the highest-ranking man in the military, but it was his job to advise the President and the Secretary of Defense, and technically lacked any authority over combatant forces.