Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War

by Michael G. Thomas

  So, this is his doing?

  General Daniels had intended on transporting foreign weapon systems to the planet. These could not be Alliance tech; else it would certainly mark Alliance involvement on Karnak, something High Command clearly wanted to avoid. The object then vanished in a bright fireball that sent molten debris all around the engine. The vessel began to spin out of control. A hundred metres before it struck the ground, four of the passengers leapt off. White flashes from vents on their backpacks slowed them down as they scattered and hit the ground.

  “Incoming!” Arana yelled.

  Spartan lowered down to the ground as the aircraft struck hard rock and exploded. There was no chance anyone survived the impact, but those that had jumped were already on their feet and moving towards the wreckage.

  “Everybody stay down,” said Arana.

  Incredibly, they all listened, and one by one the survivors from the crash moved out of sight. Spartan could feel an itch on his trigger figure, knowing he could have killed all four of them without even blinking. He spotted one of the Khreenk scouts looking at him.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  The alien nodded and moved away in the direction they originally arrived from.

  “Follow us.”

  The two Khreenk took the lead, moving with a speed that suggested they were more than a little experienced with the area. In seconds, they were out of sight, and Spartan had to speed up to join them. The six mercenaries were behind him, a small group snaking in a short column. The ground was rocky, and as they neared the mountains, the outcrops became taller and more substantial. The column of smoke from the crashed aircraft continued bellowing up into the sky, but it didn’t take long for the wreckage and the potential threat of the four Anicinàbe to vanish. No sooner were they safe from being seen when another of the aircraft arrived. The engines howled, but it was now impossible to tell where it was or where it was going.

  “This way,” said Vossaq.

  Always the same one spoke; the second merely standing and watching as though simply a bodyguard. He indicated towards a deep channel that cut down into the rocks and then into a much darker part of the rocky terrain. They continued on. At the same time, the occasional low-level thud marked some kind of event on the surface. It was impossible to tell what was going on, and they had little else to do but keep going. Few words were exchanged until finally the Khreenk stopped.

  “We will stop here for a moment,” said Vossaq.

  The alien pointed ahead. It was slightly uphill, and when they reached it, they looked on in stunned surprise. It was shaped like a large ring and cut deep into the rock. Tunnels and shafts led off in all directions, but thick rock protected them from above, making it impossible to be seen, except by others inside the structure.

  “Interesting.”

  It was all Spartan had to say, as he took a sip of tepid water from the tube next to his mouth. It reminded him of a hundred places where he’d fought bitter battles. Some of these were on barren worlds, others moons, or space stations. The more he thought, the harder it was to even remember some of them.

  “Spartan, what is this place?” Arana asked.

  Vossaq heard her and answered via his translator circuit.

  “These are the Khagi Caverns. They were partially created by the water system a long time ago. Since then, the Byotai have been digging deep for minerals.”

  He looked to Spartan.

  “We use it as a safe way to travel. The Anicinàbe control the skies now.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Since 361CC, the X47 Avenger drones had proved to be an invaluable aid to the fleet. These were just the first in a line of developments that would see greater emphasis on the use of machine integration in the Alliance military. The XB49 Reaper would be an intriguing concept, one put into trials with the military following the success of the X47. It used a separate heavily armed drone that was twice the size as the Avenger. It would be assembled as a remote weapons package, to be controlled via manned fighters. In the past, artillery had supported the infantry; now the idea was to use the Reaper to support the space fighters. The modified and much more heavily protected Hammerhead MK II was put into service to control up to twelve drones in mixed configuration.

  Robots in Space

  Khagi Research Facility

  It took three hours of hard work to trudge through the tunnels, but it was the price they had to pay to avoid the potential threat from enemy air cover. To Spartan and the others it felt more like an entire day. The going was slow, due to the poor lighting conditions and very rough ground. The only natural light came down from small holes and gashes in the rocky ceiling above them. There were also long sections bereft of light entirely. Vossaq indicated ahead.

  “We have been scouting these tunnels for months now.”

  “Doing what?”

  The Khreenk took a careful step over a row of broken rocks lit by the lamps on his body armour. Once past, he glanced back to Spartan.

  “Looking for signs of the Anicinàbe. We have travelled far and wide, and found nothing.”

  “Strange,” said Arana, “The Anicinàbe seem very well equipped for a people that had little to no military equipment with them. How have they taken so much ground already?”

  Vossaq muttered, and his translator stayed silent, clearly finding the noises difficult or impossible to convert. The only light in this part of the caverns came from the lamps built into their suits. It gave the interior an odd feeling, like something from a fantastical tale of magic and monsters.

  “The settlers are not the issue. We were called in when the first emergency camps were built. The Byotai were happy to see them...at first. But that was when the arguments started.”

  Spartan pulled himself up onto a particularly steep ledge and looked back to the others. Arana and her sister had already found another way up; the rest of the mercenaries stayed close behind. He refocused his lamps ahead and continued forward.

  “What happened, Vossaq?”

  The Khreenk mercenary moved slowly and cautiously, especially as there were faint glimmers of light off into the distance.

  “The first combat units from the Anicinàbe Coalition are what happened. We didn’t know it back then. They were dressed the same, but they intimidated several enclaves to leave. The rumour is they forced them out at the barrels of their guns.”

  “Strange, I’ve not heard that part before.”

  Vossaq stopped.

  “That’s because we didn’t find the bodies until four weeks ago.”

  Arana was close enough that she could hear the conversation.

  “You’re saying Anicinàbe soldiers murdered them?”

  Vossaq nodded.

  “Yes. Ninety-six civilians, all unarmed, and each shot in the back of the head.”

  They kept walking, but Spartan couldn’t shake the image of the civilians being killed. There had been reports of violence, but nothing to suggest something quite so drastic or cold as murder. Vossaq continued to explain, but his voice had dropped in volume, and he sounded almost sad, something very unusual to hear from a Khreenk, especially a mercenary.

  “One convoy came through nine weeks ago, supposedly with food and supplies. It was intercepted and hijacked by unknown forces. Since then, the ships have been ferrying people or supplies to the main bases on Karnak. We suspect it is bringing the first military units, potentially under the command of Tahkeome.”

  Arana shook her head.

  “I don’t understand. I thought both sides were blockading the entire quadrant?”

  Vossaq laughed.

  “The Byotai are, but the Anicinàbe Coalition seem to let anybody in.”

  He scratched at his arm even though his armour covered it.

  “There were eight Khreenk security teams on Karnak. All have been evicted or gone into hiding since then.”

  He looked to Arana.

  “Trust me. The Anicinàbe Coalition is taking control of this planet one s
ector at a time, and nobody is ready or prepared to resist them. What happens in the Khagi mountain region is just the beginning. The planet will...”

  All of them stopped and listened carefully. A dull thump shook the very ground they stood upon. Small clouds of dust ran down from cracks and crevices above them. Arana sighed to herself.

  “Artillery or free-fall bombs.”

  She then looked to her sister.

  “This isn’t a popular uprising. This is a military occupation.”

  The group moved towards the pinpricks of light while each considered what Vossaq had to say. The crump of the explosions had now faded, but it was clear the area was a danger zone. Finally, after one last push uphill, they emerged into what little remained of daylight. The sun was already low in the sky, and long shadows had begun to form behind every rocky outcrop.

  “This way,” explained Vossaq.

  He extended his arm to point to the structure in the distance. Smoke rose up from a number of fires, and one of the larger buildings had collapsed.

  “The research facility was closed down before Karnak was first abandoned. Now it is being converted into homes for families and workers in the mines and the refinery back in the mountains.”

  Arana didn’t seem impressed.

  “This position is exposed and too close to Montu. We need to be cautious. The Anicinàbe are clearly happy to attack any Byotai targets they find.”

  Vossaq seemed impressed with her assessment.

  “You are of course, correct.”

  The mercenaries split up and moved along the flanks of the access route, darting from cover to cover. Though heavily armoured, they still moved with the speed and grace of an unarmoured man. The Khreenk continued on via the centre of the road, with Arana and Spartan right beside him. Spartan’s boots crunched as he stepped over broken rocks. The internal sensors scanned continuously in every direction, looking for movement and heat signatures. His suit even checked the tell tale radio frequency emissions common from complex equipment. Vossaq kept looking ahead but spoke quietly to Arana and Spartan.

  “It is true; the mountains and tunnels are the only safe places from air attack. That is how they are winning.”

  He looked up as though expecting an aircraft to come right at them.

  “By placing their smaller numbers wherever they are needed, they can maximise their effectiveness. The Byotai have little mobility on the ground since the air attacks began.”

  He said something the translator couldn’t cope with and so looked back towards Spartan.

  “But we are not so easy to move.”

  He nodded towards the wreckage of an aircraft. It was difficult to identify, but the broken metal still smoked from the heat of the burning figures. Spartan suspected the craft had been shot down in the last twenty-four hours. Arana looked less and less comfortable as they passed by the ruined left engine. It was riddled with holes. She placed her hand on it.

  “Missile damage from an airburst weapon. This is the General’s doing.”

  Spartan smiled, but she was unable to see that inside his helmet. He saw the damage, and the assessment from Arana matched the data appearing on his helmet overlay. The missiles were designed to explode upon moving close to a target, and not a direct impact. This had the benefit of sending debris from a distance rather than keeping the impact localised, a much more effective way of bringing down a lightly armoured aircraft.

  “Yes, he was right. A handful of air defence systems, and the advantages of the Anicinàbe are quickly negated. You can’t win a war with smaller numbers unless you have an edge.”

  He pointed to the wreckage.

  “Speed, firepower, and mobility are the weapons of the Anicinàbe. The General found the single weak point in their defences, and now he’s paid the price.”

  Arana shook her head and pointed above them. Far off into the distance, perhaps at a height of twenty kilometres or more, was a dark shape. It was clearly a ship, and a big one at that.

  “You’re assuming no more troops can make it here. Every ship that gets through will make it less and less likely. And that thing, what does it look like to you?”

  Spartan looked at it while his onboard computer attempted to identify the pattern. Information on height, size, and speed appeared, but nothing specific to the class.

  “Looks like a civilian transport, nothing special. It could be bringing in food or supplies.”

  “Or more likely an entire company of soldiers.”

  Unlike her sister, Syala seemed less likely to keep her thoughts to herself. She was quick to speak, and it would seem, just as quick to anger. Arana then pointed in front to the small outpost.

  “We cannot stay here. Don’t forget the radar scans as we dropped down. The Anicinàbe control the air, and we are not here to fight a war.”

  Syala slapped her on the back of her armour.

  “That’s right, Sister. We’re here to get our people.”

  Spartan shrugged.

  “Trust me, I know.”

  He checked the coolant level on his carbine and flicked off the safety. The area had certainly been the scene of a major fight, and the last thing he wanted was to get caught out without being fully prepared.

  “You are correct, Arana. But right now we are not ready to start our operation. We have to meet the locals.”

  Syala said something too quiet for Spartan to hear. She then went ahead to join two of the other mercenaries who were examining the burnt out remains of some sort of civilian ground vehicle. One of them dragged out the charred remnants of a corpse, along with a civilian rifle. Spartan glanced at it and then continued onwards.

  “We need intelligence and local knowledge, neither of which we can obtain by staying hidden.”

  He then stopped as if he’d spotted something. At the same time, he lifted his arm up. The mercenaries stopped, dropped to a knee, and lifted their weapons. A handful of small rocks ran down the side of the ravine wall, but nothing followed. Spartan selected one of the onboard tactical drones and activated it; the object, no larger than his thumb, detached from a special mount in his shoulder, and powered up a pair of miniature rotors.

  “Stay down.”

  They kept as low to the ground as possible while the small drone moved higher and higher. By the time it had reached its optimal position, the falling rocks had stopped. As well as providing a real-time overhead view, it also enabled his suit to identify, track, and tag all objects ahead of their position.

  “Looks clear,” said Arana.

  She moved with even greater caution. One by one they moved out and down a sharp incline into the main part of the valley. At some point this had been a major access road into the complex, but it was now cratered in dozens of places, and broken rocks and shattered equipment littered the place.

  “Stay frosty. This could be an ambush,” said Spartan.

  Small bunkers on each side of the hill provided the perfect ambush position. Spartan felt a twinge in his body, wondering if at any moment they would be targeted. Just a few more minutes and they were at the approach to the main entrance. Directly in front was a smooth and partially angled wall. In the centre was a metal gate big enough for two Bulldog APCs to drive through with space to spare. It creaked open with a loud groan, revealing what remained of the battered and partially damaged facility.

  This doesn’t look good.

  He could already feel his body tensing at the possible confrontation. His stomach and chest tightened up, and he forced himself to slow his breathing. In came the long, slow breaths.

  “Communication flypast in ten seconds.”

  The suit’s voice was quiet, yet it still surprised him. Even so, he sighed in relief as an indicator announced the imminent flyover of one of the twelve communication buoys dropped by the ship. They were small and almost impossible to detect unless one was looking directly for him. All it took was the communications selector, and he was in line of sight radio contact with the object, if only for a few min
utes. As before, he lifted his hand, and the entire mercenary unit went to ground.

  “This is Spartan. We have arrived at location Alpha Three, proceeding on original schedule. Can confirm the region is hot. I repeat; Alpha One is hot.”

  The message vanished into the ether, along with a coded packet that contained multiple images of the area, an overhead view of their positions supplied by simple triangulation, and finally, bio-readings for everybody in his team. He waited patiently, but there was no reply from the ship before the buoy moved out of sight.

  Two more hours until the next one.

  It was far from ideal, but he had expected no less. The region was disputed, and the space around Karnak was not safe for a single ship. He could only hope that when the time came, Colonel Black would get his message.

  “Forward.”

  Spartan was first to his feet, and then they were moving ahead. Arana took a pair of the mercenaries to the left; the others spread out as they walked on through the compound.

  “Watch your corners. Keep your eyes open.”

  Spartan couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable upon seeing the obvious signs of battle damage. Impact craters marked where rocket fire had ripped through metal and stone with ease. There were also bullet holes and marks from small arms fire.

  Keep moving.

  They were now past the gate, and it slid shut behind them. The wall connected to the gate was a little under three metres tall and constructed from pulverised stone into cement-like structure. At irregular intervals there were crates and boxes positioned to act as firing steps. Spartan could see the positions of the defenders via the small drone, and so far everything looked as he might have expected.

  “Secure,” said Syala.

  A few moments later the same message arrived from Arana. Two Byotai were waiting at one section, both had rather antiquated-looking rifles. Spartan had not seen the particular type of weapon before, but it was clearly a prized civilian item, and nothing like those in the Byotai military arsenal. He lowered his weapon and opened his visor so that his face could be seen.