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

by Michael G. Thomas

  * * *

  The Bastion, Helios Prime

  Commodore Hampel opened his eyes to the sound of loud gunfire; he instinctively reached for a weapon, a weapon that was no longer attached to his body. He opened his eyes and began lifting himself up. His eyes focused, but very slowly to reveal the interior of a shattered building. A shape moved closer, and he lifted his arms to protect himself.

  “Sir, we’re buttoning down. Cover your face.”

  The unknown man waited in front, and others ran about before taking cover.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice weak and pained.

  “It’s the General. He’s started an aerial bombardment. It’s time to let them all burn!”

  Now he found the strength to lift up into a sitting position. It was only then he could see he was actually resting on the wreckage of a broken civilian vehicle. The building to the right was almost completely gone, and crates and chunks of rock had been positioned to form temporary walls and barricades. Squads of marines ran about to find cover while at least twenty Vanguards hunkered down along one side and continued firing off into the distance.

  What is happening? Is this winning or losing?

  Even from this position, he could see the metallic forms of Eques walkers marching down streets and blasting away. The entire surface and its thousands of shattered buildings, streets, and skywalks seemed to be overrun with the machines and their hordes of minions. He looked up at the black sky and the continuing trails of smoke from drones and fighters.

  This war will never end, he thought hopelessly.

  A Liberty destroyer rushed overhead with a Biomanta hot on its tail. Both fired away at each other. At the same time, a dozen or more fighters moved in close to attack both of them. Then he spotted two long lines of shapes high up in the sky. At first glance they could have been clouds, but the uniformity of the formation was what really caught his eye.

  “Here it comes!” cried out a marine.

  One of the Vanguards twisted about and lifted its massive metal arm.

  “Stay down, all of you!”

  It was an almost angry tone, and Commodore Hampel could only assume it was a Marine Corps non-commissioned officer. Only they seemed to have such anger and authority in their voices, especially in such tense situations.

  Light!

  He could have been blinded, if it were not for the great clouds of dust and smoke already surrounding their position. Far off into the distance came the bright flash that expanded out with great speed.

  Atomics?

  More and more of them came down until the entire skyline was alight with flashes. They flickered like a wondrous firework display until finally all of them vanished behind the great cloud of dust.

  “Shockwave!” shouted the Vanguard, again in his stern tone.

  Commodore Hampel tried to move, but his leg was numb and his strength long gone. He rolled to the right and directly into the arms of Lieutenant Morgan.

  “I’ve got you, Sir,” she said.

  The officer was covered in dirt, and he noticed the blood running down her thigh. It was a light trickle, but it betrayed the fact that like most of them, she had also sustained injuries. Then in a single, almost brutal action, she pulled him from the vehicle and down to the side of its hull. He tried to speak, but it was then the blast wave hit them. The initial impact was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It howled through like a tornado, uprooting wreckage and shattering stonework as if they were paper. He looked to the Lieutenant. She was shouting and tapping her helmet. Then for a brief moment she was gone, the dust cloud erasing her from view as if she’d never been there.

  “Lieutenant!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

  The internal speakers in his armor did nothing, and his communication and tactical updates were all offline. He moved his eyes to the left and then felt the storm of air pulling at him.

  Now what?

  He grabbed the wrecked vehicle and found a curved piece of metal jutting from the side. He wrapped his left arm around the section and then his right, just as another shockwave blasted past. A Vanguard appeared, staggered, and then tipped over backwards before vanishing off into the blackness.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Some regiments of the Confederate Marine Corps can trace their lineage back to the colonial militias on the colonies of Sol. These citizen units were trained each month to deal with raiders and threats to shipping and ports. There were even occasions where Legates were granted a short term of tenure to conduct specific operations. Every one of these operations included a core of colonial troops, as well as larger numbers of private security and volunteers. The mixed fortunes of these ad hoc units led to the creation of larger, permanent military forces that would provide a core of fighting men and women for both sides in both the Great War and the Uprising.

  History of the Marine Corps

  ANS Warlord, Black Rift

  The massive warship took up its position to face the new arrival. Instead of facing bow forward, the ship had rotated fifteen degrees to port to allow the starboard batteries to also fire. The bow emitters could still target up to twenty degrees on either side and this, combined with the dorsal turrets, would give them the optimal firing pattern.

  “All ships in position and ready to engage, Admiral,” said the XO.

  “Good. Let it begin.”

  The first weapons to fire were the missiles from the Liberty destroyers. As the slowest of the weapons, they would still be the last things to strike the enemy ships. Then came the massed guns of the ships of the line. The small, medium, and large caliber railguns sent shells of different types directly into the approaching formation of ships. Most of the rounds were nothing complicated, just chunks of shaped metal known as solid shot. A significant number of rounds included the infamous Sanlav rounds, a special type of ammunition invented in the Uprising for use aboard Confederate warships. Based on the ancient design from Earth, the shell would break apart at a fixed distance to shower the target with a small cloud of deadly projectiles.

  “We’ve got good hits,” said the tactical officer.

  The mainscreen showed the small fleet of ships as they surged toward the Alliance defenders. Flickers of light marked where the projectiles had struck, and larger explosions indicated where substantial damage had been caused.

  “Enemy fleet has sustained eleven percent casualties.”

  Admiral Anderson looked at him for a second and then again to the mainscreen.

  “What the hell is going on? Why are they not firing?”

  He stared intently at the screen.

  “Magnify, I want to see the second line of ships. What are they protecting?”

  The imagery altered instantly to a grainy video stream. In reality, the telescopes were at maximum zoom, and the camera shake made the footage almost impossible to view. Multiple layers of error checking and correction produced a low quality, but useable image. At first, he could see nothing more than a cloud of ships, and the majority at the front taking damage. Two had completely disintegrated while most of the others were still taking damage.

  “That thing.”

  He pointed to a pair of wide hulled craft. Both were immediately behind four more ships that were positioned to take all of the fire.

  “They will reach us in forty-five seconds, Admiral.”

  The fleet continued pounding the Biomech ships and caused even more damage. The closing speed was like nothing any of them had seen before. Even if the ships activated their engines at maximum burn, there would be no way they could slow down or stop before rushing right past the fleet and the Rift Station.

  “Wait, I’m getting a reading from their ships. A power reading, the levels are off the charts, Sir.”

  “Keep firing. I want those secondary ships brought down!”

  The particle emitters on the larger ships fired their powerful beams right at the ships. Even at near the speed of light, they were unable to stop the entire force. By the time
the first ship reached the Rift Station, half of the vessels were wrecked or smashed. One ripped through a Crusader, and the wreckage of both spun off into the void at incredible speeds. That was when the unexpected occurred. All the ships vanished, even those smashed or wrecked. In their place appeared a swirling vortex; much like a conventional Spacebridge, but this one was easily three times the size.

  “Get us away from that thing!” Admiral Anderson yelled.

  It was too late for three Liberty destroyers, and they were caught right in the path of the Rift. All of them were cut clean in half by the massive distortion. The rest of the fleet scattered in panic from the devastation wrought by the phenomenon. Sirens inside the ship blared loudly even though they had sustained no damage. Each of the ships powered away, scattering like prey from a predator. Admiral Anderson checked the data coming in, but it was the video stream of the Rift that attracted the most attention.

  “I need T’Kron. Get him now!”

  He watched as a large shape began pushing through the Rift. It looked nothing like a ship, yet it was larger than even the Rift control station. It moved slowly and then stopped, with a large section like the end of a bone that stuck out into Helion space. He grabbed the intercom and connected to the fleet.

  “This is the Admiral. We have five and half hours before the Biomech reinforcements get here. Secure the perimeter, and move away from the Rift.”

  Most of the ships had already reached a safe distance and were now merging into four groups of twenty or more ships. The largest number moved in around ANS Warlord. At the same time, the Rift pulsed as though it was absorbing energy or trying to move. With each pulse came bursts of lighting that reached out like the limbs of some monster. Several lashed about the semi-derelict Rift control station and tore chunks off with each strike.

  “Admiral,” said a familiar voice.

  Anderson looked to the right of the mainscreen where the image of the T’Kari commander appeared.

  “Is this what you expected?”

  “I expected nothing in particular, but this Rift is unlike anything we have seen before. The energy readings are incredible.”

  “Can your weapons close it?”

  T’Kron looked back and said nothing for nearly four seconds.

  “Admiral, my ships have been firing for the last thirty seconds. Our weapons are having no effect on the distortion.”

  He looked back at the mainscreen and the massive tear in space. The Biomech structure still sat right in the middle of the Rift while small shapes moved about it.

  “Contact! We have signals coming through the Rift.”

  Admiral Anderson opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He coughed and tried again.

  “All ships, watch the Rift. Here they come! Open fire!”

  ANS Warlord began to pivot but only made it halfway around when the first dozen ships came through. Her starboard and dorsal turrets opened fire, as did the turrets on the other ships in the fleet. Four groups of Alliance vessels poured fire into the Rift and were rewarded by hundreds of explosions. Admiral Anderson even thought they were doing well for a moment, but through the debris field came scores more ships. Some even smashed their way through the wreckage to move out into Helion territory. Once they cleared the distortion, even more came in of all sizes.

  “Keep firing!”

  The ship’s computer tagged and classified each of the threats as they came in. T’Kron watched on his own screen and appeared as dumfounded as Admiral Anderson.

  “These ships, they match the stories of old. The Biomechs have returned.”

  Anderson looked once more at the screen and the scores of warships moving out in long lines. The end of the object in the Rift began to open in a dozen places, and from these gaps came a myriad of smaller fighters and robotic drones.

  “Admiral, several of their ships are heading for the Rift back to Helios Prime,” said the XO.

  Anderson looked at the tactical display and rubbed his forehead. In all his concern about the Rift, he’d forgotten about the one they had created that went back to Helios Prime and their own collapsed Rift back home. For a fraction of a second, he considered issuing a withdrawal order. His small fleet of less than a hundred ships already faced a major threat, and there was no clear upper limit to the enemy strength.

  What if they have three hundred ships, or a thousand?

  He looked to his XO and nodded in agreement.

  “Close the Rift. We will make our stand here, at the Black Rift.”

  He looked back at the mainscreen and issued his orders to each of the squadrons. One by one they presented their guns to the enemy while at the same time disgorged fighter squadrons into the fray. The Rift flickered and then vanished, leaving the fleet out on the periphery, weeks away from Helios Prime.

  “Admiral, the structure inside the Rift appeared to be emitting a massive energy field into the Rift itself. A byproduct seems to be that it is stabilizing the Spacebridge, even with the T’Kari weapons firing into it,” said the tactical officer.

  “Byproduct?” asked the Admiral, “What else is it doing?”

  The man looked back and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Uh, our sensors show the structure of the Rift is changing. I could be wrong, but I think they are trying to create a permanent Spacebridge.”

  That was a possibility even he hadn’t thought of.

  “XO, ignore their fighters. I want everything we have firing at that structure. Tear it apart!”

  * * *

  ANS Dreadnought, Black Rift

  Spartan, Khan, and Forty-Seven marched toward one of the waiting Maulers. Z'Kanthu was waiting for them, along with the Thegn file commanders, each of them with their distinctive colors and gray uniforms.

  “Well, this is it,” said Spartan.

  Khan looked to his friend and was glad to see he was almost back to normal. The ship shuddered as gunfire from the few remaining Helion ships tried to force them back. None of this particularly concerned Spartan; his mind was focused on what he could control, the ground troops aboard the Black Ships.

  “Are your soldiers ready?”

  Each of the commanders nodded in agreement. Spartan looked to Z’Kanthu.

  “What about you?”

  The ancient machine stayed completely still as it spoke.

  “My kin are ready, as are all eleven bandon. Just give us the target, and we will do the rest.”

  Another heavy blast shook the ship, and the XO’s voice blasted out via the internal speakers.

  “Brace, brace, brace. Enemy ships are coming through the Black Rift.”

  Spartan lifted an eyebrow and looked to Z’Kanthu.

  “What is your assessment?”

  The ancient machine considered the situation with all the data he had access to. Spartan and Khan had been granted full strategic and tactical access to the digital network, but the Biomech machines had a knack for tracking additional data, even when heavily encrypted.

  “This vessel, it is unknown to us. Let me contact On'Sarax.”

  Again there was a pause, and the hull continued reverberating with the sound of gunfire clattering against the hull. Spartan and Khan watched and waited until finally Khan groaned.

  “Come on, we know what’s happening out there. Do we need these machines to explain it to us?”

  Whether in confidence or not, Z’Kanthu chose that moment to speak.

  “The signals from the structure indicate a Rift construction machine. These were in development in the war. They may be attempting a permanent wormhole directly to this system. If they succeed, it may never be collapsed.”

  An impact struck much louder this time, and the vessel made a groaning sound.

  “I need to speak to the Admiral,” said Spartan.

  It took less than ten seconds for an image of the Admiral to appear inside his helmet.

  “Admiral, what’s happening out there?”

  “Spartan, the Rift is open, and t
his base or ship is keeping it open.”

  “Can you destroy it?”

  Anderson shook his head.

  “Not a chance. We tried missiles, railguns, and particle beams. They have interceptor weapons to hit the ballistic rounds, and the particle beams are just not breaking it down fast enough. That thing is better protected than the bloody Arks.”

  “How long do we have?”

  Admiral Anderson spoke a little quieter.

  “My engineers estimate the Rift will reach maturity at the same time as the Biomech reinforcements arrive. It’s a beautifully timed and executed plan. They are sending in an extra ship every two minutes now. I can hold what has come through, but every extra ship is making my job harder. I’m down three ships already. At this rate, the fleet will be gone well before the Rift is finished.”

  Spartan looked to Khan and the machine.

  “Can it be stopped from the inside?”

  Khan said nothing, but Z’Kanthu gave a slow nod.

  “It is a machine, nothing more. If it can be slowed or shutdown, we could buy them more time.”

  Khan tilted his head and then nodded.

  “Then we go in.”

  Spartan agreed.

  “Admiral, I’ll take the Black Ships right into the mouth. Keep them off my back.”

  “Spartan, what are you going to do?”

  “Whatever I can.”

  * * *

  The battle at the Black Rift had changed into a mass of ships and fighters with little organization on either side. The Alliance still maintained the greater numbers, but gunfire coming from newly arrived ships had pushed them further away. Fighters rushed about in squadrons of ten or more, and scores of wrecked ships littered the coldness of space around the Rift. Only one group made for the Rift, and at its head was ANS Dreadnought.

  “All ahead full!” said Captain Vetlaya.

  They went in at speed toward the ships coming out of the Rift. The forward guns flashed back and forth as both sides exchanged particle beam and gunfire. The Conqueror class Battlecruiser was a tough vessel and took the impact in her stride; even a thirty-round salvo against her port flank did little more than to create a minor gash and tear off the outer layer of armor.