The Jötnar played a crucial part in two wars over a single generation, yet still they were regarded with suspicion and often fear. Larger than even the biggest man, they were titans when compared to the people of the Alliance. These brutal monsters could have brought down the Alliance from within, yet they fought alongside humanity with nothing but courage and honour, and never for a moment straying from those they had been created to destroy. In the bloodbath of the Biomech War, they would again prove their value and stand as the model for the ultimate soldiers. It was not long before many would ask if they would prove a better source of recruits to the military than an average man. All of that would change with the developments of the Special Weapons Division of CTC and the great changes to be implemented into the Marine Corps.
The 1st Jötnar Battalion
Khagi Caverns, Karnak
Spartan and Syala were the last two still above ground. Spartan’s armour was surprisingly clear of dirt or damage, but Syala’s sported a deep black scorch march from her naval up to her chest. He looked down at the mark and noticed the area around the sternum had been burnt at least a few centimetres.
Thermal blast, that was close.
His eyes continued to move up until reaching her face where her visor was currently open. She gazed back at him and winked.
“See something you like?”
“Really?”
He answered sarcastically, more in amusement than annoyance. As he watched, he could hear the odd crack of gunfire, but there was no sign of where this fighting was taking place. He suspected it was more likely to be additional Anicinàbe soldiers methodically checking the bodies and finishing them off. The thought of such unwarranted brutality towards civilians sent additional levels of adrenalin through his veins.
Stay calm. You have a job to do.
He turned his attention back to the lithe, and somewhat erratic Syala. She was certainly a character, and her armour kept reminding him of the heavy infantry that fought at the New Carlos Spaceport in the Uprising. The armour had been something of an antique back then, oversized but tough. These mercenaries had taken the best components and merged them with tech from the private sector to create their own unique look. It was not as bulky as he recalled, and still clung tightly enough to remind him he was looking at a female mercenary. A message arrived from Arana.
“Spartan, we’re through the bunker and heading down. The tunnel is damaged, but it is intact. I’ve set the charges.”
Spartan glanced to Syala who was also receiving the same message.
“Good work, Arana. Keep going. We will join you shortly.”
“Understood.”
The two sisters were an odd pair, and they seemed to treat their job as much as a contract as it was for fun. He’d not seen that attitude towards violence before, at least not outside of the Jötnar. Her eyes then narrowed, and she hit the button to close down the visor and mask her face. She beckoned off into the distance.
“We’ve got survivors.”
He scanned the debris and wreckage and quickly found a trio of elderly Byotai. They were unarmed, and one bore a series of blood-soaked bandages across his chest. As they waved to the Byotai to join them at the bunker entrance, a squad of five Anicinàbe appeared overhead. As before, the aircraft rushed away before it could be fired upon. The soldiers came down quickly and were soon obstructed by the damaged facilities communication mast complex. They hit the ground to the flank and spread out. Spartan kept his head down and tagged five of them via the heat tracking features of his armour. The cooling jet vents were easy for the system to locate and track.
“Got them.”
Even though they were in sight, Spartan did not pull the trigger. There was always the chance, though perhaps a slim one; that they were there to take prisoners. Then he saw one lifting his rifle and taking aim at the back of the three Byotai.
Animals.
“Drop them.”
Syala took careful aim and nodded just before pulling the trigger. Her coilgun carbine cracked as it discharged a solid slug, striking the first pursuing Anicinàbe in the chest. The solider flipped backwards due to the momentum of the attack and collapsed behind a heap of rubble.
“That makes seven.”
Spartan snorted with amusement.
“Seven is child’s splay.”
The other four had separated, but instead of dropping down to cover were moving fast. Spartan noted their clothing was different to the others. They wore black chest plates bearing a red marking. He stored several images of them to check later, and then pulled the trigger. The XC1 Carbine howled as it unleashed a hail of encased plasma. Half the rounds struck the first two and burnt through their armour with ease. One was killed outright, while the second dropped to the ground, holding up a shattered stump and crying with pain.
“Eight.”
Syala put a round through the soldier’s forehead. It was a crack shot, and even Spartan was impressed. He didn’t turn away, though and moved up from his cover, stepping out to the right to gain a clear line of sight. The Byotai were just fifteen metres away, and Syala waved to them to help them to safety.
Keep moving.
Spartan lowered his aim and blasted away. At the same time, the black armoured Anicinàbe soldiers returned fire. Spartan’s shots had been accurate, but the Anicinàbe seemed to blur as they darted ahead.
Interesting, must be a movement-based camouflage system.
Even in combat, he found himself admiring this new and unknown piece of technology. Rather than using their tech to hide, they were combining it with their mobile style of combat. Three rounds glanced off the collar off the banded plates of his M-3b armour, but Spartan changed tactic. He aimed low and fired at the ground ahead and beneath the two soldiers. The impact from the high-energy weapon sent debris up and over the soldiers. At once their shapes became clear, and whatever system they were using was rendered useless.
Now you’re mine.
One of them must have noticed because he dived over a broken wing from one of the aircraft. The second wasn’t so fortunate, and Spartan raked him with gunfire. He scanned to the right, looking for the last of the soldiers. Then he appeared, like a blinding light from behind a series of tall rocks. The warrior must have used his drop-jets. He was three metres in the air, falling right down onto the two of them.
“Syala!”
Spartan pushed her aside and took the full impact of the landing soldier on his chest. Both rolled to the ground, but the Anicinàbe was up first. He flipped up with the speed and grace of a ballet dancer. Syala fired a quick shot, and it glanced off his rifle in a shower of sparks. Without pausing, the alien then withdrew two blades from his arms and jumped at Spartan.
“He’s mine.”
He was on his feet and circling the alien soldier. As the Anicinàbe leapt in with the first attack, he activated the monofilament bayonet mount on the carbine. It pushed out into a partially curved, razor sharp blade. The Anicinàbe didn’t hold back and came in with a flurry of attacks on both sides, the blades spinning about in full rotations to develop speed and power. Spartan parried left, then right until he stumbled over something. He fell back and only just managed to support himself on one knee.
Screw this.
With a quick flick, he activated the barrel and unleashed a burst of high-energy plasma into the warrior’s face. The smouldering remains of the Anicinàbe collapsed alongside him, much to Syala’s amusement.
“Nice.”
The Byotai were now past them, and Syala helped them to the trapdoor entrance to the tunnel system. Once inside, she followed right behind, looking back just once to check on Spartan.
“Keep them moving,” he said.
He remained waiting at the entrance to the tunnel, and from there he could see the three high-explosive charges Arana had set. They were positioned to collapse what remained of the bunker, as well as the entry point to the tunnel. It was good work. The access point was a large double door fitted into the f
loor leading up into the ruins of a bunker type structure. He looked down into the gloom and waited patiently until certain the last of them were well below the first bend. Syala waved back to him, confirming they were far enough in.
Boom time.
All it took was one quick activation to start the thirty-second timer, and he made it fifty metres before it had counted down to twenty seconds.
“Everybody move it. Hurry!”
Most of those underground had no idea at all what the crazed human soldier was saying, but his tone was obvious to any but the simplest of alien creatures, and those that could increased speed; the mercenaries doing what they could to help the others maintain a reasonable pace.
Any moment.
Spartan tensed his body just as the first charge went off. The other two followed almost immediately afterwards. They were powerful blasts that sent clouds of dust falling from the ceiling. Two of the Byotai stumbled, but they were quickly picked up and on they went deep underground, perhaps almost two hundred metes before finally meeting the large triple intersection. Dust continued drifting down from the access tunnel and from several broken sections of the roof. The tunnel was narrow, and in the past a single person wide, with a separate section for small sleds to travel along a mechanical track system. That must have stopped working decades earlier, and now it was simply an obstruction each of them had to scramble over.
“How much further?” Arana asked.
Spartan clambered over a long abandoned tool that looked much like a pickaxe or shovel.
“Another fifty metres, not much more.”
They followed one last bend before passing through a broken doorway and out into a vast underground complex. Unlike the access tunnel, this was a major transit point, and clearly something a great deal of time and money had been spent on.
“I had no idea the Byotai had put so much effort into this,” said Arana.
Spartan shrugged.
“They had big plans for the place, long before the trouble with raiders and the crimes gangs moved in.”
He looked upon the intersection and drank in the details. As expected, there were three tunnels leading off in different directions. It was not a road system but a long, dormant maglev rail system. At first it seemed that it might even be functional, but on closer examination, it was obvious the structure had been long abandoned and heavily corroded. Parts of the roof had collapsed in places, but as far as Spartan could tell, the route still looked clear.
“Spartan,” said a familiar voice.
The Byotai Elder approached, with the remaining Khreenk beside him to translate. It confused Spartan when he used his name, the implication being that they could speak the same language. Most did not make use of translator technology, and the older Byotai would see it as an insult to speak anything other than their own tongue. The other reptilian fighter that had been waiting on the barricade was also there, but he now sported an additional nasty-looking triple puncture wound to his flank, yet moved as though nothing had happened.
“They are ready,” said the Khreenk.
Spartan nodded, looking back at those that had made it this far down. The numbers of wounded Byotai surprised Spartan, yet even those with hideous wounds refused to complain. He’d heard of their resilience in the Biomech War, but they had fought in an entirely different sector to him. There were stories of Byotai warriors fighting on and winning with large chunks of their own bodies mutilated or destroyed.
That reputation is now fact.
“Is that all of them?”
Arana and Syala looked exhausted. He’d seen relatively little of them during the fighting, but what he had noticed had impressed him. Both were fast, probably even faster than he was. They were agile and good shots, and Spartan was happy if that was all they could do. Syala answered him first.
“It had better be. When we left, there was another aircraft moving in to scout the facility.”
Spartan grinned.
“And you left them a welcome gift?”
Syala looked extra amused at the question.
“Oh, yes. There are a few extra surprises near the bunker, in case any of them get too close.”
Just on time, the cavernous tunnel rumbled, as they had heard when first approaching the small settlement. The rumble was followed by multiple thumps, and then both sisters chuckled as Arana approached him.
“And it looks like a few of them did.”
She pointed to the ceiling high above them all.
“There are two more up there, but I can promise you, they will not want to come too close now. Ground burst proximity mines make a bad day of any low-flying aircraft, and we left them as high as time allowed.”
Spartan seemed satisfied with that and paused as if he was about to make a painful announcement.
“I need a volunteer to come with me to the capital. The others will escort these civilians to the enclave. The route should take a day, two at the most, until you reach the last functional rail line junction. From there, you will be at the Enclave in hours.”
Though the sisters were of the same age, Arana always seemed to take the lead when it came to leading the group. But his time she was beaten to it by Syala.
“I will come with you, Spartan.”
She then looked to Arana.
“We work well together, and you’re always better leading the group.”
Arana considered her suggestion, but only for a minute. Spartan intervened; knowing that time was not on their side.
“The Anicinàbe will be looking for us. So you need to get a shift on.”
He looked back into the tunnels.
“Take the rest of the mercs and follow the waypoints I’ve set you. There are four possible entry points to the tunnel on this route, so you will need to keep your eyes open in case the Anicinàbe try and find a way down to cut you off. Use the Byotai to scout for you.”
Arana grasped her sister’s arm and pulled her in close. For a second, it seemed as though they might even fight, but it quickly became clear it was no more than a familial moment. Syala spoke first.
“Do not be afraid to let them fight. They are extra eyes and ears. Use them. The Byotai are used to battle, even if they do try to avoid it most of the time.”
She sounded only a little emotional, hardly surprising to Spartan, based on them being sisters, and close ones at that.
Arana didn’t argue, but she did have one question.
“What happens once we’ve got them to this Enclave?”
Spartan nodded as she spoke.
“Good point. Colonel Black has already contacted them to say we might be bringing in survivors. When you arrive, your first job is to contact the Colonel, give him an update, and get ready.”
“For what?”
Spartan lifted an eyebrow, as if surprised at the question.
“Because once we have Gun and the General, all hell is going to break loose.”
Syala and Arana looked at each other and then back to Spartan.
“You’re not just planning on getting him out, are you?” Arana asked.
The corner of Spartan’s mouth lifted up a little, showing two of his teeth as he smiled.
“I’m going to break out anybody they’ve taken. After that…we’ll see.”
He looked back to the wounded and weary-looking Byotai civilians.
“One thing I can promise you, though.”
He then looked back at them.
“None of this will end until someone lifts up a gun, points it at the head of Tahkeome and his soldiers…”
He lifted his hand and pointed it off into the distance, all in imitation of holding a firearm, “…and says no.”
He walked towards the two Byotai and the remaining Khreenk mercenary. Syala was right at his side, her visor raised to expose her face.
“What are we doing now? I thought we were...”
Spartan cut her off.
“Arana might be getting the rest of them out of here, but we need informati
on on Montu. I’m not arriving at the place without details. When I have what I need, we’ll get into the tunnel. It shouldn’t take too long.”
He stopped for a second and watched the mercenary lead the group off into the tunnel. With the greater space, they were easily able to spread out and make quick progress. The front was taken by two of her mercenaries, each relying completely upon passive night vision equipment. The rest started to follow at distance of around a hundred metres so as not to give away the positions of the forwards scouts. Spartan caught the attention of the Khreenk who was waiting with one of the group ready to leave.
“Montu is around ten to fifteen kilometres from here, is it not?”
The Khreenk didn’t even need to speak with the Byotai to answer the question. He simply nodded.
“Good. Now tell me everything you know about the city and where you think the prisoners are being held.”
* * *
ANS X-45 ‘Titan’, Debris Field, Karnak
The light and sound of battle had long been forgotten as the crew went about their tasks. There was no damage inside the ship from the minor skirmish over Karnak. Colonel Black was taking no chances, and had sent out no less than four maintenance drones to check for signs of trouble. With no support this far from home, the last thing he wanted was a system failure that resulted in their capture. The General was one thing, but losing an entire privately owned and operated military ship would be quite another.
All of the gunnery systems were still active, but the capacitors had been temporarily shut down to reduce the chance of being detected, even this far out. Olik, meanwhile, waited at the lower level, and Kanjana pointed off to the huge layers of debris orbiting their current home. This was the long dead planet of Medamud, and under normal circumstances would have taken weeks to reach, but not with the drive technology. The ship had been spirited away, right under the nose of the enemy and to their safe haven. Olik pointed to the planet, or what remained of it.
“Looks like some beast was here and took a bite out of the thing.”
Kanjana laughed, assuming it was a joke. Then she saw his face and realised he was being serious.
Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War Page 16
