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

by Michael G. Thomas

  “All ships create the opening.”

  The six Liberty destroyers added their own firepower to that of the Battlecruiser, opening up six holes in various parts of the structure deep inside the Rift. A few shots missed and struck yet more Biomechs coming through. If the Black Ships had been alone, they might easily have been destroyed at this range. Luckily, Anderson had brought in one of his divisions to offer support, and this group of eighteen ships, including his own flagship, was able to pound the Biomechs and provide a distraction, at least for a few minutes. Captain Vetlaya tapped the icon for Spartan.

  “Legatus, you have your window. Now it’s up to you.”

  “Thank you, Captain, good luck.”

  * * *

  Spartan led the assault wave in the first of the Maulers. Dozens more followed, each carrying a deadly cargo of Thegns and Decurions. Another eight Maulers moved with them and an additional two companies of Alliance Marines, each of them a volunteer to serve under Spartan’s command. Behind this wave of armored vessels came a polyglot selection of ferries and passenger shuttles to carry the Jötnar contingents from the Hyperion flagged civilian ships. In total, more than a hundred small craft pushed away from the Black Ships and into the defensive fire of the Biomech warships.

  “Spartan, I don’t think this is your best plan,” laughed Khan.

  From their position inside the Mauler, the banging and crashing of debris and projectiles shook them about. There was no gravity or atmosphere, but the impact still would have killed them; had they not been strapped in their mag-harnesses.

  Z’Kanthu waited at the rear of the craft where the clamps normally used for Vanguards had been modified to hold him. Even so, his massive metal frame shook and lurched about as the clamps strained to keep him in place.

  “Six hundred meters,” said the pilot over the comms channel.

  Spartan looked at the other passengers, a fifty-fifty mixture of marines and Thegns. All of them were held in by the mag clamps and waiting patiently. He checked the figures on the visor overlay and shuddered at the sight of so many friendly and enemy vessels in such close proximity. He could see the other units inside their craft as they made for the Rift. The Jötnar craft were catching up, and he tried to ignore the shock as three Biomantas caught one of the ferries out. They tore it apart with gunfire before themselves succumbing to fire from the Alliance warships. He tracked the Jötnar forces, identified the lead craft, and made contact.

  “Olik, how are your people?”

  The audio crackled a little and pulsed in and out, but most of it came through clearly.

  “Spartan, good to hear from you. We’re fine. Red Watch is right behind you, and we have another nine hundred Jötnar on the way. They are looking for a fight.”

  Spartan shook his head in amusement.

  “You know this is probably a zero-g assault, don’t you?”

  “Most of them are from the mines on Hyperion or the engineer stations on Prometheus. Every single Jötnar has been equipped the same as us. Unlike your people Spartan, we’re efficient. Just make sure you leave some for us.”

  It was bravado. He knew that. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel concerned for them. They might have been equipped with fresh gear from the arsenals on Prometheus, but could they fight a conventional battle? He had to assume that Osk and Admiral Churchill had been behind their equipment.

  If they gave them the equipment, then they probably trained them as well.

  He recalled what he’d heard about the Red Watch and the militia. The Jötnar had been training for all kinds of situations, and only now had he realized there may have been other reasons for this.

  That cunning dog, this must be Anderson’s work. He was training up extra units of Jötnar, even though they weren’t even technically in the military.

  It made sense, of course. The Admiral had an excellent idea as to what was happening out in the Orion Nebula. The only other chance was that the Jötnar themselves had decided to do this, and that was something Spartan found hard to believe. They were great fighters, honorable, and reliable. The Jötnar were anything but great strategists.

  “Fifty meters and closing,” said the pilot.

  “Right, get ready, people. This is gonna be rough.”

  Spartan looked down to his armor and checked everything was ready. His visor was already locked down and the protective screen raised. His carbine was loaded, the safety off, and the coils charged.

  “Z’Kanthu, ready?”

  Yes, was the only word that came back.

  “Ten meters.”

  The craft shook violently as they smashed through the wrecked exterior of the structure. The Mauler’s nose section was very heavily armored for just this purpose. It continued onwards until it almost became stuck.

  “Out, now!”

  The doors slid open and revealed the dark interior of some kind of massive facility. Spartan didn’t hesitate and pulled himself out of the Mauler and into the wreckage. Khan came next and then Z’Kanthu. The other passengers were already clambering out through the other hatches and using their hands, feet, and additional reaction thrusters to move further inside. This particular area was very wide and nearly five meters tall. Spartan activated his exterior lamps, and the others did the same.

  “Looks like a launch tube or hangar to me,” said Khan.

  The intercom crackled.

  “Spartan, Major Terson. We’ve entered the dorsal breach and are moving inside. Be careful, this place is full of machines.”

  “Understood, Major, be careful.”

  He checked the rest of them were with him before pulling himself further forward. He could already see at least thirty marines and the same number of Thegns making their way through the ruined interior.

  “I need this place mapped. Are the Decurions ready?”

  “They await your command,” replied Z’Kanthu.

  “Good, send them in.”

  The machines were stored inside the landing craft wherever they had found space. As they received their orders, they extended their legs and then scuttled out of the craft and into the Biomech structure. Unlike the other units, they moved quickly, due to their multiple limbs and zero gravity agility; something they had been built to do. One by one they moved off into the distance. At the same time, the first indications of the enemy appeared at three other locations.

  “Stand your ground; we need intelligence before we proceed,” he said.

  His body told him they needed to get inside fast, but his experience and training told him to be cautious. This was an unknown facility, and the enemy strength was even less known. In just a minute all of them had vanished from view, yet each sent back data that expanded the model Spartan and the other commanders had of the structure. Z’Kanthu quickly assessed the data as it arrived. He created a partially complete schematic and sent it to every officer in the boarding action.

  “Yes, I see,” said Z’Kanthu, “This is an outer transit coupling, an area for landing spacecraft. The shaft from here joins the primary shaft three meters in that direction.”

  He pointed away from where they had landed.

  “The primary shaft runs along the entire length of this vessel and toward the field generators, here and here. Both sides of the structure are mirrored.”

  The flagged areas were in the center, one each side of the Rift. There were hundreds of spherical chambers running along the length, as well as a dozen larger sections above and below them.

  “On’Sarax, Gorokk, and Bullyak are leading their Thegns toward the nearest field generator. If they can bring it down, they will be able to slow down or halt their ability to reinforce the Spacebridge.”

  Spartan looked down his carbine’s sights, but so far they were in the clear.

  “We’re nowhere near that part of the structure. The only way to join them is to get back in the Maulers and land at the same point at On’Sarax.”

  “No,” said the machine in a robust, unflinching tone.

 
“You’ve got another plan to collapse this Rift?”

  Two squads of marines moved on another twenty meters and then pulled themselves close to the floor, walls, and ceiling. Their lamps bathed the interior with a mixture of white, yellow, and orange hues. The first of the red armored Jötnar, six of them staggered, stumbled, and pulled their way through the zero gravity environment. Only two managed to get their magnetic boots functioning correctly. Z’Kanthu twisted to his left and moved one of his arms to point out extensions in the ceiling.

  “You are thinking only of the objective, Spartan. There are many ways for us to complete this mission. Look, these are the heat exchangers, but this is the area that should concern us.”

  The area he had selected lay on the other side of the Rift, where a long cylindrical chamber connected to a vast series or tunnels and machines. It was the only section not mirrored in its entirety on the other side.

  “The Primary Power Amplifier. This part of the Rift Engine is what is maintaining the stabilizer field, and it is at the end of the next passageway.”

  “That will stop this thing?”

  The machine shook his head.

  “No, the Rift will continue to exist.”

  Spartan sighed and took a step forward. Z’Kanthu traveled the same distance.

  “If we overload the Amplifier, the stabilizer will fail, and the Rift we be like any other. It will make it vulnerable to weapons. If we overload it and cause it to fail, the T’Kari will be able to collapse the Rift and destroy this machine at the same time.”

  Spartan looked at Z’Kanthu and smiled.

  “So we don’t try and stop the machine itself, we just remove their ability to keep the Rift open. Are you sure the Amplifier is the place?”

  “Yes. Each time the T’Kari fire their weapons into the Rift, this part of the station expends almost a third of its energy from the coils near the Amplifier. The Amplifier is charging them back up after each strike.”

  Spartan had almost been excited at their prospects, but now everything seemed to ride on this one objective, and that made him nervous.

  “What about the station’s main power unit? There’s always a reactor of some kind.”

  Z’Kanthu snorted; it was a sound Spartan had never heard before.

  “I am detecting energy signatures, machine signatures all around it. Whoever is running this facility knows we are here. They are pulling back their forces to defend the weak points.”

  Spartan’s helmet made a two-tone noise, and then a small icon popped up.

  Anderson.

  “Spartan, what’s your status? We’re getting hammered out here.”

  In the tense operation to get inside, Spartan had almost forgotten about the fight that was taking place outside. Every penetrating hit against a warship could kill scores of people, and he’d already expended substantial time getting this far. Spartan checked the details from his unit commanders that showed their current position and status.

  “Admiral, I have four of our Kybernetes inside, plus upwards of four hundred Thegns and a company of marines. Olik has brought in Jötnar forces to assist. The other three Kybernetes are landing their forces along the port side of this vessel.”

  “And the enemy strength?”

  Spartan’s heart felt heavy at this question.

  “Uncertain, Sir.”

  He could almost feel the nerves inside the Admiral.

  “Don’t worry, Sir. We have a plan. We will…”

  “Spartan, don’t waste time talking to me. A squadron of Cephalons has come through and is pushing us back. Get inside, do what you must, and shut this wretched Rift.”

  Spartan glanced to Khan who had heard the same message. His comrade began to speak, but the sound of the Admiral’s voice returned.

  “Spare nothing, Spartan, end this today!”

  That was finally the end of the message, but it filled Spartan with a sense of urgency. He selected the unit channel he’d used prior to starting the assault.

  “All units, your commanders have their orders. Move quickly and get to your objectives. Set your thermite charges and then fall back to the boats. Each team will stay until their mission is complete.”

  Khan looked to him with a concerned look, but Spartan shook his head.

  “Today is not a day for half measures. If we all do our job, we will have a chance. Let’s do this thing.”

  One by one they inched further into the never-ending channel inside the facility. It looked like an underground railroad, with long beams on every side and indentations at regular intervals. Spartan threw another quick glance over his shoulder and spotted Z’Kanthu and lines of Thegns and marines walking along the metallic floor. Each of the marines was now making use of their anti-gravity boots, while the Thegns moved like animals on all fours. They made use of any grab rails, handles, or obtrusions to move at least as quickly as the marines.

  “Z’Kanthu, what is this? A ship or space station?” Khan asked.

  The machine kept on moving as it replied.

  “This is neither. In our terms, we would call it a Rift Engine. It is a massive robotic installation with enough exterior weapons, power plants, and equipment to match an entire space station.”

  “Yeah, but where’s the crew?” Spartan asked.

  The hundreds of men and machines moved silently inside. Khan tapped his helmet and then pointed to the floor.

  “Spartan, On’Sarax reports her forces are under fire at the secondary power convertors below us. Hundreds of machines are surrounding them.”

  Spartan looked to Z’Kanthu and shook his head.

  “We stop for nothing, old friend. We keep forward. When the mission is complete, then we go for survivors.”

  “I agree,” said the machine.

  A light flashed on the inside of Spartan’s visor, then another, and then the entire thing lit up red.

  “Our Decurion scouts have made contact; multiple targets coming this way.”

  Spartan checked his carbine and looked to his visor.

  “These are bigger than Decurions. What are they?”

  The line of Thegns and marines advanced in the silent vacuum, all with their weapons raised and expecting trouble. The schematic created by Z’Kanthu showed that a wide chasm ahead would dip down and then join the massive passageway running the length of the Rift Engine. It would give them a quick way to progress, but it was also devoid of cover. They reached the edge of the downward gradient when Spartan could finally see their shapes on the enhanced optics of his visor.

  “Biomech engineers,” said Z’Kanthu.

  He moved closer to Spartan and then stopped. With a single movement, his arms dropped down and his plasma weapons began to spool up.

  “These are nothing like what you have seen before. Prepare yourselves.”

  “Get ready!” Spartan ordered.

  His pulse began to increase, and he found his finger automatically moving to the trigger on his carbine. The shapes came closer, and he could see how big they were now. There were dozens of them, and each one at least the same size as Z’Kanthu. They had multiple legs, and from their torsos hung many more arms. An odd variety of tools and equipment was attached both to their torsos and to their limbs.

  “Engineers. They are the oldest of the Biomechs, the most experienced, and the most intelligent. Their skills at the construction and operation of advanced machines are unknown even to me.”

  Blue flashes marked where the machines started firing their weapons. The pulse of energy moved at high-speed toward the advancing marines and their Thegn allies. Seven were vaporized in the first blast even though they kept their bodies low to the ground.

  “Open fire!” Khan shouted.

  He’d already taken aim with his new toy, one of the Jötnar L56 multi-barreled guns. The marines joined in with their own carbines, using only the high-power mode to smash the enemy machines. A sprinkling of L48 rifles sent explosive rounds hundreds of meters inside the Rift Engine.

 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Spartan has always been a character of mixed fortunes. In the Uprising he was loved and hated in equal measure for his military successes, and for the bloody incursions that left so many dead and wounded. The Fall of Terra Nova, though a pivotal moment in Alliance history, is still subject to argument. The assault and battle on the surface left many dead, and much of the blame was placed on Spartan, a man renowned for frontal assault and body counts. Is it therefore surprising that the events of the Black Rift would leave him remembered as the man responsible for more death then any man since the great wars of Earth?

  Heroes of the Great Uprising

  Biomech Rift Engine, Black Rift

  Two platoons of marines advanced, with Thegns moving along the walls and ceiling. They all fired repeatedly with great volleys of gunfire ripping through the tunnel. Every few seconds, another blast of energy would come back and tear apart whatever it struck. Even so, Spartan’s assault had now penetrated into the primary passageway and was halfway along its length toward their objective. Additional passageways and rooms on both sides provided extra hiding places from which the defenders made quick attacks before melting away into the blackness.

  “Spartan, we’re getting close,” said Khan.

  Fifty meters ahead was a circular chamber with objects hanging down from the tall ceiling. It was a massive room, easily two hundred meters in diameter, and both the floor and ceiling disappeared into great pits. A pair of walkways wide enough for five or six people ran around the sides. There was an additional metal bridge over the great pit, but it was exposed with no protection of any kind.

  “Yes, Z’Kanthu, is the plan still on?”

  The machine headed for the central bridge and answered without even looking at the marines.