“Stay down!” Wictred said.
It was an unnecessary order, but after the last few days, Wictred was taking no chances. He was no officer, having only recently been made a corporal. Yet since the disaster at the fort, he’d become the leader of the tiny band of marines, and so far he’d kept them alive.
“There!” Private O’Hara whispered.
The young female marine wore a heavily dented set of armor, with the unusual distinction of having a section of a Biomech blade still partially embedded in the right arm. Luckily, it hadn’t made it all the way through. She dropped down to her left knee and lifted her L52 Mark II carbine. She carried a pair of helmets, taken from fallen Biomech foot soldiers, on a number of hoops attached to her belt. It was a grisly set of mementos from a savage few days’ fighting and hiding, and did little to dilute the look of feral savagery that had befallen her.
“There’s something near the low building, to the right. Three o’clock,” said Private Harvey.
Even in this stressful environment, Wictred could hear the faint pangs of pain and exhaustion in the man’s voice. The man was one of the many stragglers Wictred had added to his unit, but he was different. The neutron missile bombardment had destroyed most of the Biomechs, but a small number of marines had also succumbed. The Private had been caught near the blast zone, and his armor hadn’t been able to stop him from absorbing a significant level of radiation. According to all the information to hand, the man should already be dead, but he refused to go, and Wictred had decided he’d give the man the best possible chance of a good death. Wictred grimaced as he moved his attention from the marine and back in the direction of the possible enemy sighting.
“I see it.”
The shape was nothing out of the ordinary, just a man-sized figure moving around the outside of one of the many buildings. From this distance, it wasn’t easy to identify much in the way of details, especially as dust and dirt seemed to make them all look roughly the same. It staggered back and then landed on the ground, just as the sound of two gunshots rang out.
Where are you?
Wictred’s suit tracked the bullets as well as the sound, quickly locating the source of the gunfire. He’d expected it to be from one of the buildings, but it was actually coming from another of the wrecked Helion trucks.
“Harvey, with me. The rest of you on overwatch.”
Wictred moved out from cover, lurching off to the right and the cover offered by more wrecked vehicles. He made it halfway when the gunfire started. A few rounds hit nearby, but the return fire from the marines quickly subdued whoever had opened fire to begin with. He kept moving, and Private Harvey followed him until they were behind the vehicles and moving down the road parallel with the main one. A few more sporadic shots rang out, and then there was a large two-story building blocking the line of sight.
“Corporal!” Harvey called out.
Wictred moved his eyes to the right in time to spot the four Biomech warriors. They appeared just as surprised as him as they continued to pull apart the innards of machinery attached to the side of the building. One cried out something in its alien tongue and then lifted a rifle. Wictred ran at them and didn’t even bother shooting. Two rounds glanced off his thick JAS armor before he crashed into the group. Wictred’s size and overall bulk forced the group to the ground where he had an easy time dispatching the first two with his bare hands. The other two rolled out of his reach and opened fire at point blank range. The shoulder of his armor was quickly penetrated, and he resorted to the arm’s built-in blades to decapitate the next.
“Get down!” Harvey shouted.
Wictred obeyed without thinking, and a burst of L52 gunfire blasted over his head and tore holes out of the creature’s chest. It staggered back and fired a single round before collapsing backwards. Wictred sighed and looked back to see Harvey dropping down to his knees.
“Harvey!” he muttered.
The large Jötnar towered over his comrade as he looked down to check his wounds. A small hole the size of a finger marked the point where the round had managed to find a crack in the visor and had allowed the single round to smash through and embed directly into the poor man’s forehead.
“Bastards!”
Wictred lowered the man to the ground and turned back to the direction of the original gunfire.
“Marines, how are we doing?” he asked over the secure communications network.
“All good here, Corporal,” Lance Corporal James answered.
“Good work. Harvey is down. We still have work to do, though. Watch my back. I’m moving in.”
There was no time to mourn the dead on Eos. Every hour brought more death and tragedy to the marines. Wictred moved on past the bodies of the Biomech warriors and to the corner of the building. He leaned around just long enough to look at the damaged truck parked at the end before slipping back into cover. His built-in camera gave him a detailed series of images to examine from the safety of the cover.
What do we have, then?
The two roads joined at the intersection and were surrounded on three sides by buildings. The windows were boarded up, and three Biomech bodies lay out in the street. Then Wictred spotted the movement at the rear of the truck. One of the wheels was shattered and right behind it the shape of two people, each huddled around a large weapon mounted on a bracket.
Clever.
Wictred recalled from his training in the Corps the best places to site snipers. Most people, of course, assumed it was to choose the prime shooting location, perhaps the high ground or the area with the optimum line-of-sight. They had been quizzed on this so many times, with the classic example of the house on a hill or a tower structure. As a rule, they had all been trained to avoid the obvious hiding place, and to instead set themselves up somewhere near this place but not directly on it. It was a minor detail, but a way of achieving a good shot while not getting yourself killed. He watched them carefully, noting how a pair of the Biomech soldiers was trying to work their way around the side of the truck.
They can’t hold forever.
“Marines, watch your fire. I’m going in.”
He moved out from the relative safety of the corner of the building and to the other side of the street before one of the warriors spotted him. It pointed and barked something. Another dozen of the things came from the shadows, and most aimed their weapons at him. The marines opened fire and dropped two of them where they waited, but the others put out so much gunfire, Wictred was forced to take cover behind a partially destroyed wall.
“Move in and watch for friendlies.”
The other marines had already taken their own initiative and moved up the street and toward the smashed truck being used as a sniping position. There were now only seven of them left including Wictred, and all of them bore the marks of battle and damage. Private O’Hara was the first to move to the right of the street and slid down behind a heap of rubble. A shot glanced off just a few centimeters from her leg.
“Keep down!” Wictred shouted out.
More of the marines went ahead, and soon they had the vehicle boxed in on three sides. A quick rush might have ended the fight, but Wictred had no intention of losing any more marines.
“Canners!”
From his position further back on the street, Wictred spotted the pair of arachnid walkers jump out from the building behind the truck and land heavily on its roof. With terrifying efficiency, they hacked and smashed at the vehicle to gain access to those inside.
“Marines, forward! Bring them down!”
As one, the entire group of seven pushed ahead, each with their rifles and carbines raised and pointing directly at the fearsome machines. The carbines blew small holes in the metal, but it was the high-explosive charges of the L48 rifles that dislodged them. The machines tumbled down to the floor, but suddenly one of them jumped up and threw itself at the advancing line of marines. Wictred tracked it with his shoulder mounted gun system, and when he was satisfied there was nothing else nearby,
he opened fire. The muzzle flash extended out almost a meter, and the blast instantly stopped the machine. As the dust cleared, the marines watched two Helions emerge from the wreckage.
“Who are you?” Wictred asked.
The first to emerge was a young woman wearing long, dirty clothing wrapped about her body like a snake. She wore a mask, yet her long hair ran down over her shoulders where it was partially concealed by a light quilted cloak. In her hands, she carried an alien looking rifle, and its barrel pointed directly at Wictred. She said nothing and simply waited for the second, a young boy, to join her. He was unarmed and carried a box, presumably ammunition.
“Corporal?” asked a voice from above.
Most of the marines looked up, and to their surprise found the upper body of a marine looking back down at them.
“Corporal Wictred, who is that?”
The man leapt down from the level above them, hit the ground, and then bounded up alongside the two Helions. He wore the same PDS Alpha armor as the rest of them, but his was remarkably smarter and better looked after. His visor snapped open, revealing a young man with a thin black mustache.
“Captain Carter, at your service.”
Wictred quickly saluted at the officer.
“Wictred you said? You were part of the unit that fought with us on Helios Prime, at the transport hub, if I’m not mistaken?”
Wictred nodded.
“Yes, Sir.”
The young man smiled almost apologetically and extended his hand to shake Wictred’s.
“Well, Sir, in that case I am amongst friends.”
“What happened here?” Private O’Hara asked.
The Captain grimaced at the question.
“My Mauler was hit on the way out. Only three of us made it out of the wreckage before one of those Biorays found us. Luckily a NHA column was moving through the area. I was the only one to make it away alive.”
“What about these civilians?” Wictred asked.
Captain Carter looked at them, tapped the boy on the head, and then turned back to Wictred. He pointed out to the wrecked truck.
“We made it this far before the damned Animosh hit us. The NHA put up a good fight and routed the whole lot of them. Still, they lost half their fighters, and they are needed back at the air base.”
The mention of that one word seemed to get all their attention, and the Captain could see that.
“There are a dozen small towns and hamlets within a hundred kilometer circle of the air base. I volunteered to help protect this one while the NHA left to move back to their main base.”
Wictred looked confused.
“Why not go with them?”
“They took as many as they could carry. That was three days ago, and still there’s been no help. They will be back, but until then we hold.”
“How many of you are there?” O’Hara asked.
Captain Carter turned about, put his fingers in his mouth, and let out a loud, piercing whistled. A dozen windows slid open on three different buildings, and gun barrels pushed out to face the marines.
“Fifty plus civilian workers, four NHA soldiers, and a rather unusual fellow called…”
“Vadi!” Wictred exclaimed, upon seeing the figure of the synthetic warrior.
He was a head shorter than Wictred, but still much larger and stronger than any Helion, and came out from cover to move toward the marines. By now all of them had lowered their weapons, though Anton dropped into a defensive fighting stance as Vadi increased his speed and then crashed into Wictred. Private O’Hara reached out and held back the marine.
“They’re old friends.”
The marine was much bulkier than O’Hara; yet somehow she held him back long enough for the two to exchange laughter and a few blows. He looked back briefly at O’Hara who then let go of his arm.
“I know who he is.”
“Jack, where is Morato?” Vadi asked.
Wictred laughed at his barely understandable language.
“I see you’ve been working on your language. Jack is not here. He is heading to Helios Prime for the big fight.”
Vadi didn’t look as though he fully understood, so Wictred point to the sky.
“Jack is in space.”
A door opened, and out came three more Helions, each covered in layers of cloth to disrupt their outlines. As they approached, more could be seen, with the majority completely unarmed.
“What’s the plan, Captain?”
The young man wiped dust away from his visor and then looked back into the grimy looking town. It was nothing special, just another inhabited area on an alien world. He nodded as if somebody was speaking to him and then looked back to the marines.
“We cannot make it to the air base without help. The last message said the NHA were securing the outlying areas one at a time. They will come. For now we have a simple job. We reinforce the town and hold it until relieved.”
He was met by silence. Wictred finally spoke to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Against whom? The Animosh or the Biomechs?”
Captain Carter nodded slowly as Wictred asked his question.
“The Animosh are being hunted, just as we were.”
Anton stepped closer and pointed at the wrecked armored vehicle.
“They are still fighting though, aren’t they?”
Captain Carter shook his head.
“No, not all of them. We have four of them guarding the northern perimeter road.”
He knew what he was saying would be contentious and decided to continue.
“Their insurgency is splitting apart right now. Some have turned against their commanders to fight the common enemy. That’s what this group did.”
Wictred looked unimpressed at this change of events.
“Wait, you’re saying you have Animosh guarding the northern approach?”
He made to move, but the Captain lifted his hand.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. When we arrived here, a group of fighters ambushed our column. In the middle of the firefight, another party of Animosh turned on them and fought them off. They are no friends of the Zathee government, but they have all vowed to turn their attention to the real enemy.”
“The Biomechs,” said a thickly accented voice.
Attention moved to the cloaked man as he stopped and removed his hood. The tattooed face of an Animosh warrior looked at them. He turned his head to show his neck where the mark of his clan had been tarnished.
“We will fight the machines.”
Wictred stepped closer to the Helion and looked at him carefully. He was the same size and build as the Zathee, but his disdain for the civilians around them was obvious. The female sniper spat on the floor as he spoke but made no move to take her complaint any further.
“When this war is over, we will resolve this...”
He looked to the female as he spoke and then turned back to Wictred.
“We pledge ourselves to the destruction of the enemy.”
Private O’Hara moved to Wictred’s flank and gazed into the face of the mysterious Helion. His clothing was stained from the dust of Eos, but he stood tall, almost aloof. She shook her head in irritation.
“Typical damned religious Zealot.”
Captain Carter smiled. “I can see you’re not from Carthago.”
She seemed to grimace at this suggestion. The mention of Carthago was a bitter one for her, but she saw no need to say anything else on the matter. The Captain appeared to think differently though. He moved closer to her and continued to speak.
“We have our own history of dealing with religious persecution and discrimination, do we not? These Animosh may not match your ideals, but they are not our people.”
The young marine could feel her blood pressure increasing as he questioned her.
“Captain, I’ve seen what special treatment for religions does; it empowers them against those that have…”
“No faith,” finished the Animosh warrior.
>
Both of the marines moved their eyes to watch him. It was rare to find a single Helion who could understand, let alone speak any of the human languages. Yet this one seemed more than fluent. He turned his attention specifically to O’Hara.
“There is no such thing as no faith. There are many Animosh who trust in science, more than those who believe in any of the old or new religions. It is harder to not believe in something bigger, like a god, wouldn’t you say?”
She looked at him, and there in the dust of Eos, they came to an unspoken understanding; because deep down, she knew that not believing there was a god out there with a plan for them all, was more terrifying than facing the wrath of any actual god.
“Good,” said Captain Carter, “Let’s get you into the town and acquainted with our facilities and defenses. Can I assume you could do with some food and drink?”
Wictred shook his head.
“Not yet. First we deal with our dead.”
CHAPTER TWO
The Steersmen were the great mystery of their time to all races, including humanity. Having allied themselves to a similar race known as The Twelve, the Steersmen were granted a home on Taxxu, one of their planets. For generations, this gifted race of scientists and engineers managed to explore the galaxy and made contact with a myriad of peoples. For all their advances, they succumbed to a great plague that devastated their species only a short time after having met the Helions. After failing to cure their failing bodies, they used their technology to encase themselves into machine bodies, and for those too weak for the process, their minds were meddled with technology known only as Cores. These Biomechs, as they were now known, turned on their brothers among The Twelve and then targeted the worlds of Helios, the home of the great betrayers.
Taken from the accounts of Z'Kanthu, Warlord of The Twelve
The battle-scarred shape of ANS Conqueror limped toward Helios, along with her collection of damaged ships following behind. The two Battlecruisers had taken the lead position. Though similar in design to the much more common Crusader class, they were substantially wider, and this additional girth provided space for more fighters, landers, and marines. All of this had proven useful during their journey from Eos as they took on casualties from the other ships, as well as swathes of marines. The three Crusader class ships, ANS Crusader, ANS Victory and ANS Devastation flanked them. The bulk of the remaining ships were Crusader class, with a smattering of Hunter class frigates providing a skirmish screen. It was no more than a shell of the original fleet that had fought at Eos, but it was no less effective.
Star Crusades Nexus: Book 07 - Battle for Helios Page 2
