"That's an Anicinàbe warhound. Best to avoid them, if we can."
Something about Spartan's voice told her he'd experienced these beasts before. Based on what she could see, she had absolutely no problem keeping quiet . It wasn't just that the animal looked dangerous, it was also wearing a heavy harness and bore armour-plated sections along its spine and chest. It stopped again, looked back, and then straight at her.
"Spartan, it's seen us."
They both waited in complete and utter silence. Spartan's helm was partially visible, but he intentionally stayed where he was, so as not to provide a moving object for the animal or anybody else to spot. It felt like an age, until finally the creature moved on and rejoined the small group of Sekieki riders. They left a gentle cloud of dust behind them as they pushed ahead of the group.
"Okay, we're in the clear, for now."
He licked his lips inside the cooled environment of the prototype M-3B Armour. Only a handful of the IAB had access to this advanced version of the armour. Although based on the highly successful PDS Alpha gear, it came fitted with many powerful upgrades that were proving very helpful.
"Were the drone scans correct? That's all we need to know."
He shifted his body, and the articulated armour moved effortlessly. The enhanced armour included hardened bands to protect against crushing and compression, and the exterior of the armour bore a synthetic self-healing armoured skin. This unusual material shared technological secrets jealously guarded by the CTC Corporation, apparently based upon the hardened outer shell commonly seen on Thegns. Small discs fitted around the body served little purpose but operated as magnetised data links for connecting to future armour and weapon systems.
"Yeah, I think we have the target in sight. Look...right there."
The two operatives concentrated their attention on the column moving at a moderate speed behind the scouting party. There were four civilian crawlers, all heavily modified and capable of carrying dozens of soldiers. Some still bore Byotai markings, and little, if any effort had been had any effort been made to disguise their origins. Spartan had seen this type of vehicle often, and though not designed for war, they had proven well suited to it.
"Well?"
"Those are crawlers from Montu. I've seen the lead one before. The markings are from one of the long gone Byotai mining outfits. See the rig on the side, that's for positioning the drilling gear. They've come a very long way."
"Maybe, or they could have come with the besieging force a week ago. They left a lot of gear behind."
Spartan shrugged, and even though he was encased in his advanced armour, the multiple shoulder plates shifted just enough she spotted the gesture.
"True. Still, I don't like it. Something is brewing out here."
That part Syala couldn't argue with. She watched the crawlers with fascination, checking for armour, weapons, passengers, and any surprise modifications. In this fight they were outclassed in equipment and vehicles, and she was as interested in the machines as targets, as they were possible additions to their own inventory.
"Okay, I have them in sight. The computer is scanning the components. I hope you're wrong this time, Spartan."
He said nothing and kept his attention locked firmly onto the first vehicle in the column. There were more than the machines trundling through the valley. There was also the cargo, and that was the main reason they were out here. Information was king in this war, and his commando teams were in a dozen places today, all doing this very same job. He was sure of what he could see, but it was important that the computer verified it. For all Spartan's years of combat, he also had to justify himself.
"Yeah, it's like we thought," said Syala, "Nakoma is getting real cocky. That's the third patrol in the last forty-eight hours. It's pretty clear they are not out here to keep busy. Something's definitely going on, and not just in Montu."
They kept their heads down low and checked the four vehicles from front to back, while the mounted scouting party moved off into the distance. Spartan tagged components on the lead vehicle, with a specific interest in the heavy equipment strapped down on the back of the central vehicles.
"Now, look at the back section of the two in the middle. You know what they are, right?"
"Yeah. Looks like radar masts. Just like you said they were."
"Close," said Spartan, "but I wasn't one hundred percent accurate. Those are Byotai landing beacons. They use them to guide ships and small spacecraft to unprepared landing strips."
He couldn't see Syala's face behind her faceplate but could tell from her sigh she knew the severity of their problem. The battle for Karnak had been an unusual one where instead of conventional forces; they'd been forced to make use of mercenaries, civilians, militia, and turncoats. It was not the kind of fight Spartan liked, and the egos involved left little room for forming any workable strategy for victory.
"Okay. That's interesting. So five minutes after we get reports of major ship movements coming here, we find this."
"Yes. Intriguing, don't you think?"
Syala would have laughed had the situation not demanded stealth and discretion.
"If I had to guess, I'd say Nakoma is licking her wounds, but she isn't out of this fight, not by a long shot."
"Go on," said Spartan.
"Nakoma used up her numerical advantage in her assault on Melantias. She can't try that again, not without major reinforcements and extra heavy equipment. So..."
She waited for a second as she considered all the data.
"She really is playing for the long game. Patrols head out and keep us busy. At the same time, she builds up new forces at Montu and prepares landing sites throughout Karnak for her reinforcements. The strikes against our forward bases and supply lines were for what then?"
Spartan considered her question for a second.
"You answered your question just now. This has all been a ruse, just something to keep us busy and make us feel confident. She implies this is a long-term campaign, where both sides wait it out. We could fight like that for months, maybe even years. When instead..."
"She's stalling for time while making herself look weak."
"Exactly. Every patrol and attack is small in scale. Though they cause damage, we always see them off. Confidence within the Byotai is growing every day. And when our friends back at Melantias hear this, they'll only pay attention to the fact she is stalling for time, and will vote overwhelmingly for a full frontal assault."
She paused again, considering their predicament, and Spartan took that as an opportunity to speak his mind.
"Luckily, we have this new intel from Delatorre. It might be enough to discourage them from attacking immediately."
"We can't let that happen. Nakoma would love nothing more than for us to make the same mistake she did."
Syala then nodded towards the vehicles down below.
"The real question right now is when will they land, and how many will they bring? Will this just be a reserve to help in the fight, or can we expect army strength forces? And if we don't attack, won't we just be helping Nakoma strengthen her hand?"
Spartan exhaled slowly.
"That's a lot of questions for a scouting party to pick up. When it happens, it's gonna cause a serious problem. We're stretched at present, and this obsession with the coming offensive is leaving us weak in other places."
Syala said nothing for a few seconds. Spartan's hostility to a direct assault was known to all of them, but no more so than to her. He'd argued with the Byotai senior leaders for days now, but nothing seemed to move them from their desperation for a victory. If they told them more enemy soldiers were coming, they would attack, ready or not.
"Maybe we shouldn't share this information with..."
Syala stopped talking when the lead vehicle slowed down and came to a halt. One of the top hatches opened up, and a robed figure climbed out onto the roof. Another pushed out a scoped long rifle, which he used to scan the horizon.
"Down," s
aid Spartan.
They slid back down the ridge a metre, but it was enough to move them away from direct line of sight. Spartan left his carbine on the ridge, its muzzle pointing down into the canyon. Even as he slid down the dusty slope, he could still see the enemy units. A high-resolution camera fitted to the gun's sight returned the direct feed to Spartan's visor.
"We're okay. They missed us."
Spartan then checked behind them and nodded to the four Helion crew. They were still sitting on the open-topped reconnaissance Skiff, waiting nearly a hundred metres away. It was a small vehicle, and more commonly used as a light utility craft in the old Helion Army. Ducted fans underneath and at the back allowed it to hover a few metres off the ground, and could propel it to speeds of a hundred kilometres per hour. In more recent times, large numbers had been sold off to the private sector, where they proved useful transports and recon vehicles.
"Time to go?"
"No. No yet. Are the jammers still in position?"
Syala checked her helmet overlay for the four ST-3 jammer units they'd positioned the day before. They waited under a thin layer of dust along the high ground, ready to create a null field, perfect for blocking signals.
"Yes. They are all on standby and ready to create the field."
"Good, very good."
Spartan checked his tactical mapping data and selected the unit at the other end of the canyon.
"Team Bravo, are you ready?"
It took a moment before a reply repeated from the transponder fitted in his carbine, still atop the dusty ridge.
"We're good to go, Sir. Rifles primed and ready with HE."
"Good. On my mark."
Spartan then looked to Syala.
"We'll hit front and back first, understood?"
"Yes."
They inched to the top of the ridge and repositioned their carbines towards the enemy vehicles. Spartan selected targets for each of the teams. While he and Syala carried the advanced, short to medium-ranged XC1 Carbine, the other unit of four carried only L52 carbines, and a pair of L48 rifles, the powerful weapon from an earlier age. Old they might be, but the trusty L48 had found new life as a sniping weapon, and prized in its ability to destroy military materiel.
"Null field...on."
It took a full two seconds to fully power up, but once ready, the ad hoc electronic carpet created a distorted field that blocked everything coming in or out of the valley. One vehicle slowed, presumably as its crew realised something was up.
"Mines!"
A single blast filled the valley floor, quickly followed by a bright flash and then the spread of dust in all directions. Although unaided observation was impossible, they could see through the dust with their hybrid infrared and ultrasonic imagining system. The dust spread quickly but cleared faster than expected.
"Excellent," said Spartan, "Three vehicles are disabled and their crews dismounting..."
He gently bit his lower lip as he watched them clamber and hunt for their aggressors. With the null field active, they'd lost tactical communications and the ability to assess the nearby area for dangers. A pair dropped to their knees, and another pair dragged over a heavy weapon of some unknown type.
"...and they intend on fighting."
He shifted a little and looked off to the right. A dark shape bumped about as the driver tried desperately to escape. The crawler was far from fast, and its massive wheels lifted up almost a metre as the long-reach suspension pushed upwards. It almost tipped over as it hit a line of rocks and then steadied itself.
"Okay...and the fourth is moving away."
While keeping his eyes on the target, he sent orders to the second team. The direct line of sight communications were impossible to jam unless a piece of equipment could be positioned between the two locations. Spartan was already intimately familiar with the Byotai crawlers, and while tough and resilient, they were not military vehicles. If they had been, the designers would have moved the critical engine and crew components further from the front. Now any penetrations to the front could knock it out with ease.
"Disable them!"
The L48 rifles fired first, unleashing 12.7mm proximity timed sabot rounds into the front of the lead vehicle. One after the other struck, biting deep into the metalwork. It took six direct hits before the engine was hit, and a small blast blew out the side of the crew area. With the engine gone, and the crew either injured or dead, it lost control and spun to the right.
"Nice. Keep your eyes on it."
The crawler smashed into a line of rocks, easily crushing them, and then ploughed on into the canyon wall. A smaller or less substantial vehicle may have been torn apart but not this one. The Byotai built these machines to last, and as it stopped, a full two metres of its forward structure lay embedded in the dusty rock. Flames belched from the command cab. Spartan could feel the fire in his veins. His history of combat dated back decades, to his time as a pit-fighter. Now he led mercenaries and commandos on an alien world.
"Good shooting. Now, look for hostiles. If they try and fight, kill them. But I want prisoners. Go to work."
The two scanned the enemy positions as more shells came in from the South. The L48 rifles had now switched to proximity detonated high-explosives and proved deadly against the light armour. Spartan glanced at Syala while lifting his carbine.
"You ready for this?"
Syala struck his chest with her left fist and then reclosed her visor.
She's ready.
"Okay, then, let's do this."
They clambered over the top of the embankment and pointed their firearms at the vehicles. The dust cloud still lingered, punctuated by the flashes of gunfire. Every few seconds a small blast marked the impact of an L48 round, and of grenades landing about the convoy. Spartan walked down the steep slope, keeping his carbine at his shoulder.
There.
Five clan warriors ran from one vehicle to the next, putting down considerable fire on the other mercenary team off in the distance. Behind them ran two more as they dragged a substantial shoulder-mounted gun system. Spartan aimed at them first and then fired. His accuracy had not waned over the years, and with each burst, he eliminated one or two enemy. By the time he reached the bottom, he'd already dispatched six .
Syala's hand tapped his shoulder, and he automatically pivoted to the right. They'd practiced often, and they could fight a battle like this with their eyes closed, or in the middle of a dust cloud. It made little difference as Spartan found three more of the enemy running right at him. Behind them came a great lizard creature with a clan warrior atop it.
"Got it."
Spartan fired repeatedly and then hit the released button. The power cell slid out from underneath and hit the ground hissing. In one fluid movement, he slipped in another clip with a gentle clunk. It took a mere second for the added coolant to do its job as the weapon charged up. Syala stepped to his left, fired a burst, and then dropped low, allowing Spartan to continue shooting while she reloaded. They cut down three more, but still they came.
"See ya!"
A white flash erupted from the back of her armour, and then Syala was gone. Spartan laughed, emptied his clip, and then made it to within a metre of two more clan warriors. Either they had no idea what they faced, or they were yet another group of fanatical fighters.
Time to die.
Spartan swung his carbine in front of his body and struck the first warrior in the face. This one was bigger than the others, and though covered in layers of cloth, Spartan could still see the dull iron armour beneath it. None of the armour would protect him from the impact. The heavy carbine knocked his foe out cold, sending him to the ground as quickly as a bullet to the head. Spartan ducked past the next one and slammed the butt into the back of the second fighter's head. This time the enemy was stunned but capable of turning around to fight. Seeing Spartan swinging his weapon, the clan warrior dropped his rifle, pulled out a long knife, and held it above his head.
"Really? Spartan mutter
ed.
Without thinking, he turned his carbine around and blasted the warrior at point-blank range, sending the body crashing to the floor.
"Who's next?"
He turned around and found the side doors open from the other vehicles. Dozens more warriors rushed out. The smart ones ran for cover, while the younger, less experienced came at him, presumably buoyed up at seeing just one man in front of them. Spartan blasted four more and dropped to one knee as he reloaded. Shots whooshed by overhead, and one even grazed his flank, skimming the armour and leaving a long white mark.
More shots clattered nearby, but now his carbine was ready. Spartan took aim and squeezed the trigger repeatedly, knocking down two more and scattering most of the others. The carbine looked tiny in Spartan's hands, but the XC1 was much more than a conventional firearm. The plasma-coil carbine combined two technologies that were still relatively new, and provided the velocity and explosive energy needed to deal with all manner of enemies. Developed specifically to respond to the weaknesses in the Marine Corps arsenal, it could punch through armour, flesh, and bone with equal ease.
"Who is that?"
Spartan fired again, but a trio of robed warriors dodged his fire and ducked behind the nearest wrecked crawler. One popped up his head, but when Spartan fired, another shot from the right forced him back.
Clever, very clever, they're learning to work together.
Spartan moved out from cover and once again was forced back by overwhelming fire. More warriors leapt out, and one barked orders to keep away from the distant gunfire. Far off to the South, the precise shooting coming from Spartan's second fireteam had killed more than a dozen of their fighters. It was a subtle change, but it meant Spartan now faced the wrath of nearly two crawlers of fighters, and as usual, somehow found himself in danger.
Screw this.
He moved from cover and opened fire with his carbine. Some of the clan warriors waited where they were; keen to fire at the arrogant human. Two hit his armour before he returned fire. Any other human would have panicked, but not him. Confident in his own skills and resilience, and the advanced protection from his armour, he kept pushing forward. Two more shots glanced off his helmet and then one hit his carbine. The advanced weapon exploded in front of him, burning his armour and throwing him onto his back. Several systems failed, but at that moment he wasn't interested.
Battle for Karnak (Star Crusades: Mercenaries, Book 4) Page 3
