Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War

by Michael G. Thomas

“Spartan,” said the nearest Byotai.

  It came closer and lowered its head in greeting. Like all Byotai, this one was large, reptilian, and a little ungainly in its movements. It was protected by civilian body armour, some of which moved as it walked towards them. It walked slowly, almost too slowly, but its eyes flickered between each of the new arrivals as though checking for signs of trouble, or perhaps weakness.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” replied Spartan.

  The Byotai continued speaking in its own language while Vossaq replied using his translator. This continued for several minutes while the mercenaries checked the immediate area.

  “This is the research facility?” Arana asked, “It doesn’t look like it’s seen much use recently.”

  Spartan nodded, but at the same time kept a careful eye on the two aliens.

  “Well, it used to be. When they first settled here, the planet was used for mining and research. When the attacks by the Anicinàbe forced them to leave, the entire facility was shut down.”

  Arana pointed at a pair of long abandoned ground vehicles. Their tires were punctured, and thick rust showed on any exposed sections.

  “And now?”

  “Now the buildings have been gutted, and they are being used to home settlers.”

  He nodded to his right.

  “If our information is correct, the side link at the other end of the site should still be connected to a secondary, non-functioning haulage line with the capital. If it’s still there, it will be our way in.”

  He then looked back to the two Khreenk.

  “Vossaq. We need to speak with the Elder here. I need Intel and travel information to get into the city.”

  Syala stepped inside the compound. The other mercenaries positioned around her and waited, each saying nothing. Vossaq continued to speak with the Byotai as though he had not even heard Spartan. He repeated himself just as the Khreenk turned about and walked back towards Spartan and Arana.

  “There is a problem. The Anicinàbe have blocked the access road and demanded the surrender of the facility. They attacked less than an hour ago, and the time for leaving is soon. They say they will attack again.”

  Spartan gave Arana a quick glance, and she was already shaking her head. He looked back at the two aliens who were busily conversing. Then he spotted the first radar signature. One was immediately tagged by his micro-drone.

  “We’ve got incoming. Get ready.”

  The mercenaries wasted no time in finding positions close to any available cover, or to the outer wall and alongside the few Byotai settlers.

  “Listen, Vossaq. This position is not defensible, and you need to get every single one of them underground, do you understand? Right now.”

  The Khreenk mercenary listened, waiting as he tried to understand what Spartan was saying. Finally, he nodded quickly.

  “Yes...yes. The leader of this community has arranged for the evacuation. It is…”

  Spartan spun about as his suit amplified the sound of something moving close. It must have been travelling low to the ground because the internal sensors had failed to detect the shape, and the drone had failed to spot it.

  “Incoming!”

  Spartan and Arana leapt back just as the entire upper half of Vossaq exploded in a blast of blood and armour. Spartan hit the ground and rolled over to the side.

  Where are they?

  He checked up amongst the high cover just as two more flashes erupted nearby, and then a black shape whisked past overhead. Gunfire raked down from its flanks, and the passengers shot at any targets they could find. Spartan took aim with his carbine and opened fire. It was too little, too late, but it did force the craft to take evasive action and throw off its accuracy, if only for a few seconds. The second Khreenk mercenary ran from the open ground and down a short flight of steps inside the low domed building at the centre of the facility.

  “With me!” he called out via his translator, “The Elder is inside.”

  Spartan nodded and pointed after him.

  “Arana, follow him.”

  She needed no encouragement and dropped down into the hardened facility that ran a single level below the surface. The others stayed exactly in the positions they had chosen and opened fire on any available targets. The gunfire started off quite erratically, increasing in tempo until the entire side was engulfed. Arana checked Spartan was with her.

  “I’m coming. Now get inside.”

  The interior of the building wasn’t particular large, especially when compared to the substantial exterior; most space taken up by the single room still filled with long abandoned computer equipment. Four Byotai huddled inside, the guns and rockets continuing to hammer the site. With each impact, the look on Spartan’s face became sterner and sterner.

  “Where is he?”

  A single Byotai male that was much larger than the others moved in front of the group. He wore ringed armour on his limbs and thick quilted plates on his chest. In his hands, he carried a cut down thermal shotgun, a weapon commonly used by civilians. He spoke, and the Khreenk listened, repeating in his own tongue so that the translator could take over. Spartan shook his head and moved closer, using his own circuit instead.

  “I am Kras, the Elder of Khagi,” said the Byotai.

  Sound from the entrance caught Spartan’s attention. He twisted about as a trio of Anicinàbe fighters burst in. The return fire from Spartan, Arana, the Elder, and the mercenaries was devastating. None of the three Anicinàbe made it inside, and only one managed to staggered backwards before a second and final shot from the Elder killed it.

  Spartan moved to the leader of the enclave.

  “I’m Spartan, and I’m here for the General.”

  The Byotai listened carefully, but he seemed disinterested in Spartan’s mission.

  “We are all dead now. There is no chance for victory. Only death before the enemy.”

  He then pushed in another thermal cartridge magazine into his weapon. Spartan’s upper lip quivered, and it was clear he was not amused.

  “I haven’t got time for games. Your people can live, as long as you don’t fight a pointless battle.”

  He twisted around to face Arana, simultaneously grabbing the remaining Khreenk mercenary next to him.

  “This is no local trouble. This is a military occupation by the Anicinàbe, and we have to get these people to safety. If they stay, they will die.”

  He pointed to the ceiling.

  “They will come from the air, and that is how we will stop them.”

  The alien spoke, but his translator appeared to do nothing. Spartan shook him as more rockets struck about them. He released the mercenary and activated his own translation circuit as he had with the Elder. As he spoke, the system broadcast the odd, guttural sounds to the Khreenk soldier.

  “Do you know the way to the underground haulage line? The one that travels directly to Montu?”

  The Khreenk soldier listened intently, and then straightened up in surprise.

  “Montu tunnel?”

  Spartan nodded.

  “Yes, the tunnel.”

  “Yes, I have seen it. Kras has shown me before. I can show you.”

  Spartan turned to Arana.

  “We need to buy these people some time. We’ll get outside and hit them hard, and hit them fast. Keep at them until they are begging for us to stop.”

  She nodded and then licked her lips.

  “Oh, yes,” he said coyly and then winked, “My favourite way, Spartan.”

  Arana clamped down her visor and went back to the entrance. She stayed inside, protected by its thick walls, checking for signs of the enemy. Spartan leaned in towards the Khreenk and Kras, the Byotai.

  “Stay hidden, and protect the civilians. We will deal with the Anicinàbe.”

  Spartan was at the door when Kras began to laugh. It started as a low rumble and continued on into an uncontrollable howl. Spartan shook his head in irritation, tinged with a little admiration for the old creature. He rai
sed his weapon to his shoulder, checked its status for the tenth time, and took a step towards the exit. Then his training kicked in.

  Check tactical reconnaissance first.

  A quick glance from the drone feed showed a missile streaking up from a hidden position in the mountain, but whatever it was shooting at was gone. It was replaced by a dozen humanoid figures dropping down. They hit the ground around the facility and began shooting whatever they could see.

  Airborne soldiers, interesting!

  It was something he’d heard about but never seen. And the prospect of facing the physically weak Anicinàbe was something he relished for the moment.

  “Now!” Spartan shouted.

  He was first out of the bunker and into the open air. He scanned left and then right in quick succession. The internal computer tagged all possible targets while marking points of gunfire, both in terms of direction and source. There were already seven hostiles.

  “Incoming fire.”

  The voice came directly from the computer, and it spoke in a calm, but stern female voice. At the same time, the path of the approaching fire was overlaid so that he could see where it was coming from. Spartan sidestepped and narrowly avoided a triple cannon burst from a substantial weapon system. He lifted his arm and took aim at the origin of the attack. A green triangle moved over the target, and he quickly identified a pair of Anicinàbe soldiers.

  “Weapon active,” announced the computer.

  He took aim with the XC1 carbine and pulled the trigger. It pushed back into his armour with much greater recoil than any conventional firearm. Each shot expelled an invisible magnetised casing that contained a small sphere of superhot green plasma. The weapon combined the caseless ammunition system of the coilgun with the massive energy output and heat of the Khreenk support weapons. The first missed, but the next three struck around the target and splashed a tiny, but deadly corrosive blast. One was killed outright, and the second lost an arm as the incredible heat instantly vaporised his armour.

  “Southeast!” yelled one of the mercenaries.

  Spartan twisted about and unleashed another burst from the carbine. The pulses of plasma burned anything they touched, leaving wounds and broken metal columns of where they struck. More flashes of light marked the arrival of additional Anicinàbe soldiers. Their backpacks allowed them to drop down from a short height in safety. At the same time a pair of aircraft circled overhead.

  Take your time.

  Spartan identified another soldier leaping over one of the perimeter walls. He took aim, but a Byotai militiaman blocked his shot. The civilian lifted a thermal shotgun and blasted the Anicinàbe in the chest. Two more jumped over but were no match for the brute strength and power of the reptilian Byotai. Another reached the top of the wall and took careful aim at the violent Byotai.

  “Get out of my way!” Spartan shouted.

  Nobody took any notice, so he pulled the trigger. The green ball of plasma struck the Anicinàbe in the face, and he staggered back, vanishing behind the wall. At the same, time the Byotai howled as a small sliver of the hot material burnt his shoulder.

  Idiot.

  Spartan moved towards him, constantly checking for fresh signs of enemy soldiers. He could see from his tactical overlay that Arana and her mercenaries had spread out to help defend the broken perimeter.

  “Next time keep your head down.”

  The Byotai looked at him, laughed, and then returned to the parapet with his shotgun. Spartan could only assume the creature understood what he’d told him. Spartan moved alongside him and took aim. A group of the enemy was working their way up the valley floor and to the wall. There were eight of them, all armed with rifles, and taking care to use the rocks as cover.

  “Alert!” warned the armour.

  Spartan glanced at the direction of the danger and then threw himself at the Byotai. A sniper round struck the ground where the warrior had been standing. Spartan looked back, took aim, and then another came down and struck his shoulder. The projectile glanced off with a whistle sound. Again the armour warning him, and this time the bombardment was deafening. It began with a blast that lifted him up from the ground and dropped him like a stone.

  What the hell?

  More followed, one after the other until all he could hear was the crump of explosions and the crash of heavy ordnance. It finally began to die down, and he could look back up. The walls were ruptured in a dozen places, and fires raged throughout the complex.

  “Spartan!”

  He twisted to his left and found Arana and two of her comrades. Both were covered in dust, and one had blood dripping from a gunshot to the shoulder.

  “They are coming in hard; this place is not going to hold.”

  Another Anicinàbe stepped through the breached wall and almost landed on top of Spartan. Instinct kicked in, and he grabbed the warrior and yanked him closer. The unfortunate Anicinàbe had no idea what was happening as he slid along the ground, but then felt the burning hot muzzle of Spartan’s carbine up against his chest.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  The soldier looked up at him and said nothing. Spartan pushed the muzzle against his cheek, and he screamed in pain.

  “I asked you a question. Who are you?”

  The Anicinàbe soldier reached down and slid out a pistol from a sheath on his flank. It was halfway up before Spartan pulled the trigger. At this range, the blast from his carbine sent burnt tissue and bone across the floor and at his own feet.

  “Your choice.”

  Another Anicinàbe reached the breach and took aim at Spartan. His movement was too slow and cautious for the far more experienced and ruthless retired soldier. Spartan instinctively opened fire, and the carbine spat energy. But this time, the enemy rolled away and took cover behind the broken wall.

  Nice moves.

  Spartan’s armour detected more incoming fire. This time low-velocity ones that were coming down from above, and he wondered if they had been launched by more hidden soldiers, or more likely, from aircraft.

  Free-fall bombs, not good.

  “Take cover!”

  These were high explosive and designed to cause maximum damage, with little care for friend or foe. They struck the ground with incredible force, instantly killing anything they hit, and collapsing even the sturdy bunker, burying alive anybody that might still be inside. Arana fired two more shots before heading to Spartan.

  “Spartan, this is not why we’re here. Two aircraft have dropped off more soldiers in the valley. They will breach the main gate in less than a minute.”

  Few Byotai remained to defend what remained of the walls, and those that tried to stand their ground were now under intense fire from sniper positions further up the steep inclines all around the facility. Spartan reached out and placed his arm on Arana’s shoulder.

  “The plan has changed.”

  More bombs dropped around them. An indicator in his helmet showed one of the mercenaries had been caught in the blast. An Anicinàbe aircraft circled overhead and then another. In seconds, they were joined by a third and began dropping down more of the cloaked Anicinàbe soldiers. The white flashes of their backpacks marked their slow descent to the ground.

  Murderers!

  Spartan looked to the newest arrival, took aim, and blasted away with his carbine. The plasma carbine suffered with accuracy at this range, but three rounds managed to strike its flank, and the aircraft twisted away, belching smoke. A single figure fell from the open side and crashed to the ground, killed instantly by the impact. Even so, the other Anicinàbe soldiers landed and spread out, using the ruined facility to pick off the remaining civilians. Spartan fired once more and dropped back to cover.

  “Arana, I want you and your squad to take as many of the Byotai you can, and get them underground. Kras and the Khreenk will show you the way.”

  He reached for her arm and grabbed it.

  “If they give you any trouble, you know what to do.”

  Arana opened h
er visor so he could see her face.

  “Don’t worry. If they cause trouble, I’ll explain it to them...my way.”

  She glanced in the direction of the battle and then at Spartan.

  “And then?”

  Spartan licked his upper lip. He’d seen the layout of Karnak, and the entire world was based upon hundreds of small settlements. There were no major cities, and not a single stronghold that he was aware of. Because of the frequent dust storms, most of the settlements were positioned behind natural barriers such as behind mountains, or in basins or valleys. One thing they all shared was in keeping large parts of their structures underground.

  “This place, the enclave at Mount Caldos. It’s the largest Byotai settlement in the Khagi region. It is built to withstand the dust storms and has been declared a safe haven. Over two thousand citizens are there, according to the information from Colonel Black, and it is the strongest position within a hundred klicks.”

  Even as he spoke, there were columns of data on his helmet overlay.

  “It is well protected with dozens of missile batteries; you saw the plans. It’s strong.”

  “Understood. What about you?”

  Her eyes moved away, and she lifted her rifle to her shoulder so that it was pointing at Spartan’s face. He lurched to the side just a fraction as she pulled the trigger. The howl of pain behind him was all he needed to hear. At the same time, the last few Anicinàbe were scrambling away to the South, all the while being harried by rifle fire from the mercenaries and the smattering of surviving Byotai. Spartan checked the plans he’d been given and sighed upon confirming what he’d hoped.

  The tunnels will take us most of the way back to Mount Caldos. It will work.

  “Arana. We’ll get underground and then split up. You will get the civilians to safety. I’ll take two with me to the capital and find the General.”

  Her eyes narrowed at listening to the last part.

  “I came here for the mission, not to babysit civvies.”

  Spartan shook his head.

  “This isn’t a negotiation. Now get them underground. I’ll see you there!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT