“That’s where the Byotai said the main street in the city is. If his information is accurate, it will be six blocks from the civic buildings. I just hope they’re still here.”
Syala spotted something on the column-mounted display and waited until the two soldiers vanished behind one of the stationary railcars.
“Spartan, the line to Mount Caldos. Is it me, or is this railcar on the same line?”
Spartan examined it for a few seconds.
“Yeah, looks like an automated railcar, and the end of the line is at least a kilometre short in the open ground to the South of the mountains. Looks like an open plain or valley from that imagery. So what?”
She nodded ever so slowly at the unit.
“There’s something else about it.”
Spartan identified a line of coloured dots on all but two of the separate lines. But they meant little to him.
“So?”
Syala smiled.
“They are markers for the electric power system for the rail lines. All but two of them are active, including the one to Mount Caldos. It means there is a powered railcar heading in that direction, one that we could use.”
Spartan understood immediately.
“The railcar to Caldos is that one?”
He beckoned towards the group of five large railcars. They were more of the same dull silver models, with double decks and control units at each end of the train. Spartan straightened his back and looked back to where the two soldiers had been. Neither had returned, but he could hear the sound of their feet a short distance away. He looked to Syala and deactivated his helmet so she could see his face.
“That is our ticket out of here. I want you to get the railcars ready, and set up multiple distractions in this facility.”
She looked concerned.
“You want me to stay here? What about you?”
He grinned for the first time in hours.
“Lady, I have an appointment to keep. Just make sure our trip out of here is clear. Once they know where we are, they’ll try to cut the power to the tracks. That’s where you come in.”
Syala was already looking about for signs of a control station and had spotted a series of doors leading off inside the desolate transit complex. Signs above had been ripped down, but one matched the description on her suit overlay for a command structure.
“Okay, I can handle that. How long will you be?”
“I’ll be as quick as I can.”
He checked the ammunition feeds on his weapon just as Syala leaned in and kissed him on his cheek. It wasn’t for long, but it certainly got his attention. She lingered against him, and then they were apart. Spartan could see her face was slightly flushed. Syala’s visor hissed and clamped down over her face.
“Just be careful, Spartan. I don’t want to be the one coming back to look for you. This operation has been weird enough as it is.”
He left in the direction of the exit point to the transit station. With each step he scanned left to right, while his passive sensors looked for signs of heat or even stray magnetic interference. Columns of data scrolled down to the right of his eye, but he ignored it and concentrated on the view modes. He’d almost reached the arched entrance when he spotted them.
There they are.
His gut instinct was to aim his XC1 carbine at them and to open fire. At this range the rapid-fire smoothbore weapon would have shredded them. Nothing could stand against the raw heat of the weapons, but he was also aware the sound of the high-velocity railgun would draw attention. And then there was also the possibility that internal sensors might detect such a major heat source.
Stealth. The mission is recon and rescue, not assault. That’s for another day.
Spartan leaned against the wall. A long beam overhead cast a modest shadow that provided him with some limited measure of cover. Once there, he activated his stealth armour mode, and the suit began its slow process of change.
This had better work.
Spartan had been a strong advocate of the three-layer experimental chromatophore technology used in the armour. If he’d had his way, he would have moved even more resources into getting the costs brought down. In theory, it would provide the Alliance military with a major asset, but the costs were vastly higher than originally thought. As he waited there, he even began to doubt it was working. The process was painfully slow, and it was one of the reasons why no more development had been made on the technology. Even so, as he waited, he could see his arm beginning to shift in tone as the soldiers came nearer. After what seemed like an age, the two were alongside, and they stopped to speak. He was only three metres away and could see every detail.
Wait and let them pass.
Spartan might have held back when he spotted a blade hung down low on the left of the first soldier. It was unsheathed and hanging out from a ring of metal. Congealed blood, clearly from Byotai, ran thickly along the sharp material. It instantly reminded him of the bodies back in the tunnels, and as before, he could feel the uncontrollable rage building inside him.
Animals.
The other soldier wore a bandolier, but it was definitely of Byotai design. The oversized piece of material was well worn and carried multiple large calibre projectiles still in the mounts, ones that looked identical to those he’d seen back in the tunnel.
Byotai hunting gear.
Spartan already knew they were likely to have killed Byotai, but the stolen artefact and the blood-soaked blade were far more than he needed to see. Worse was that he was already beginning to imagine all manner of horrors being committed by the Anicinàbe soldiers. He started to move his right arm, and that was when they spotted him. The soldier’s first instinct was to reach for a weapon, and that gave Spartan the green light.
Now!
At that moment, the suit pumped in a burst of adrenalin on top of the amount already surging through his body. He knew the feeling and felt as though his body was on fire. He lurched out from the shadows with his bayoneted carbine ready, but then a third warrior appeared from his left. Where he’d come from, Spartan would never know, but the warrior’s gun went off and struck his shoulder.
Duck down. Strike left!
The thermal round left a long black mark on the armour plating but incredibly failed to penetrate. Warnings sounded, but Spartan ignored them. A second blast struck the ground nearby, and then he was in range. Spartan’s first blow saw the blade embedded deep in the first soldier’s head. He pulled the trigger, and a single encased ball of plasma disintegrated the skull of the soldier. The headless corpse dropped to the ground, and so did Spartan.
Roll.
He moved off to the right, avoiding another two shots in quick succession. The remaining soldiers were close but failed to fire again, for fear of striking each other. Spartan rose up between them and struck out with his left arm, pinning the second soldier to the wall as he tried to cry out a warning. Spartan kicked hard into the back of his knee. The much weaker opponent crashed to the ground, just as Spartan spun the weapon around and pulled the trigger. The soldier’s chest exploded in fragments of flesh and armour.
One left.
He began to turn about as another gunshot struck, and this time it hit the left thigh of his armour with an impact that felt like a freight train. An alert sounded, and he felt his leg go cold and numb. A second shot hit his left arm, and then his carbine was out of his hands and clattering along the floor. With just one leg, he dropped down onto his knee as the third and final Spires Clan warrior fell upon him. At the same time, the soldier pointed his weapon at Spartan’s face. He said something, but it was nothing but gibberish to him.
“Not today.”
In one fluid movement, he yanked the sidearm fitted inside a metal fold on his flank. Unlike the rest of his gear, this was completely standard and rather archaic in fashion. It was nothing more than a miniaturised L52 carbine, cut down to an oversized pistol, and with a thirty-round clip of hardened slugs. He kept the trigger held down as the rounds
peppered the armoured figure atop of him. By the time Spartan rolled the body off him, they were both covered it blood.
Three down, plenty more to go.
Spartan rose to his feet and waited as the suit pumped in fluids to the seized leg joint. He felt a little pain, but according to the diagnostics, he’d suffered no more than lacerations and bruising to his limb.
“All systems active,” said the friendly voice.
Good. Now let’s find them, before more of these animals come looking for me.
Spartan dragged their broken bodies away from the main path and down amongst a stack of discarded crates. It took just over a minute to clear the way, and then he was gone. No other soldiers appeared, not even when he climbed the ramp to the open-air foyer that looked out into the regional capital.
Montu, I’m finally here.
“Spartan, I’m near the control room. There are soldiers here.”
Spartan nodded even though she couldn’t see him.
“Understood. Wait for my signal before you move.”
“What signal?”
Spartan smiled to himself.
“You’ll know, because when I have them, all hell is going to break loose.”
CHAPTER TEN
The religious fanatics of the Echidna Union were thrown away in a long, pointless war. This conflict proved to be one of many supported and influenced by the machinations of the few Biomechs still in existence. There have been numerous religious fanatics in the past, but these Zealots, as they were known, were something else. What started as an underground movement quickly turned into a full-scale empire, with all the trappings of statehood. Beneath this veneer was the influence of Biomech artificial creations, vast factories, and breeding programmes. Few now realise how close humanity came to the abyss, and that had the war been lost, so would the lives of every man, woman, and child in the old Confederacy.
A Brief History of the Zealots
ANS X-45 ‘Titan’, Debris Field, Karnak
Olik looked at the mainscreen while Khan continued pacing back and forth. Olik might have been the less experienced of the two, but he’d seen more than his fair share of combat, and he was by far the most proficient. Right now Khan was more concerned about the lack of information on Gun. After what must have been the twentieth time pacing back and forth, Colonel Black finally snapped. He called out in frustration.
“Okay, Khan, that is enough.”
The Jötnar looked almost hurt as he stopped and stared long and hard at the Colonel. Technically, he was much younger than the Colonel, but forgot that when his kin were created, they were already fully formed and capable of violence and basic communication.
“What do you expect? The only contact we get from Spartan is that he is behind schedule and has just arrived at the Khagi Research Facility. What if they ran into trouble there? You saw the scans.”
Olik looked back at the information from Spartan.
“The squad is still fully functional, and our Khreenk contacts at the facility will give him the information he needs.”
He looked to Khan.
“Nothing has changed, just our patience. We need to give them time.”
Colonel Black listened patiently. He’d seen the same information, but he also knew that Khan was feeling more and more impotent. It was important to let him vent his frustration.
There will be more than enough time for violence...soon.
“Khan, until I have something solid, we will stay exactly where we are. We have absolutely nothing, and I mean, nothing to go on.”
The long-range scans concerned him, but there was little point in dwelling on them. Spartan was out there with a small team, and his intervention could be made just once. He knew, as did the others, that when they returned, it would certainly be while under fire. It would be dangerous and incredibly risky.
“We must wait, Khan. Spartan knows this, and if he needs help, he will let us know.”
Kanjana took that moment to catch both of their attention.
“You are not going to believe what I just spotted.”
She walked up from the sphere and joined them on the main deck. With a quiet word to Five-Seven, the mainscreen altered to show a different part of space. For a second, it wasn’t particularly clear, but then the image stabilised and showed hundreds of shapes. Colonel Black let out air from the back of his throat.
“What are we looking at?”
The craft was an odd collection, and there were more than a few different designs taken from multiple races. Colonel Black even spotted what looked like a heavily altered Liberty Class destroyer, one of the newer classes of Alliance ships. They all bore unusual devices on their hulls, the majority in black.
“This is a war party.”
She looked away from the screen and towards Colonel Black, Khan, and Olik.
“A military force?” Olik asked.
Kanjana shook her head, and her lightweight hair drifted from side to side.
“A war party. It is a gathering of the warriors from nearby clans. I can see Red Scars, and I think there are some Spires as well.”
Colonel Black sunk back deep into his chair. His heart told him to intervene immediately, but his mind said otherwise.
We’re but one ship out here. I have to stay level-headed.
“Very well. Track them, but this ship does not move. We cannot engage unknown vessels, especially with those numbers. Titan might be advanced, but she’s not that advanced.”
He turned his attention to Khan and Olik.
“We have mapping data for the Khagi region, do we not?”
They nodded simultaneously.
“Get the simulators running, and let’s get some scenarios planned and tested. When we get the word, I want a combat unit down there in minutes. It’s going to get lively.”
Khan was already at the first computer display, and Olik moved to a virtual table unit to access the mapping information. Colonel Black looked back at the vast cloud of ships. He tried to remain calm, but deep down he could feel an awful sense of foreboding. This wasn’t a raid or convoy. The number of ships could mean only one thing, and that meant the General had been right all along.
The Anicinàbe may not be looking for war, but these clans are. Trouble is coming.
He looked to Five-Seven who was as calm and collected as always.
“Get the ship ready. We may be going into combat earlier than expected.”
Khan and Olik were already at the door and heading out when he called after them.
“Push the Grunts hard, and remember; the machines are expendable, but we are not. Plan for that.”
They looked at each other and then marched out of the doorway. Colonel Black looked to Kanjana, who seemed uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
She turned around and beckoned to the image of the great fleet of ships.
“This is getting bigger by the hour. Those ships could carry enough warriors to overrun the planet.”
She looked back to him.
“But what if they have other plans?”
Colonel Black swallowed uncomfortably, realising he had absolutely no idea what that plan could be.
“All we can do is prepare ourselves, and the ship. We’re here for the mission; we cannot change the course of what could become a major warzone. Not by ourselves.”
He thought about her words for a moment.
“In the meantime, I think it would be advantageous to send a burst communication through to the Byotai security units at the Rift, don’t you think?”
Kanjana smiled.
“Yes, and make sure the Alliance knows what’s happening out here, too.”
* * *
Montu, Khagi District, Karnak
Spartan had only made it two blocks when he spotted the first military patrol. He pulled up close to the nearby structure, a domed shaped habitation building with a low overhang all around, much like a lip. As he waited in the shadows, the vehicle continued to move past, followed
by a dozen militiamen, and all moving at a jog. This was a civilian truck, with a long-wheelbase and a gun mount fitted onto the bed. The weapon seemed completely out of place, yet there was no doubting the power it would bring to a battle.
This place isn’t a capital, anymore. This is a military base, and they are gearing up for something big.
Another vehicle stopped off to the right and near the larger domed structure that was the entrance to the transit system. As he waited there, his armour transformed to match the dust colours around him. He waited, knowing he would need every feature of this armour if he were to stand even the slightest chance.
No, that’s not good.
A hatch on the back opened up, and three soldiers dropped out. They looked almost identical to those he’d fought underground. They chatted for a few seconds and went inside as the vehicle drove off. Spartan shook his head in frustration.
“Syala, are you there?”
“I’m here, and still waiting for your signal. What’s going on?”
Spartan needed to cough, so he took three swallows and a quick sip on his water feed tube. It helped, if only for a few more minutes.
“Not yet. There’s a problem, though. You’ve got company.”
“How many?”
Spartan looked at the entrance once more, double-checking on their numbers.
“I see three soldiers, same clothing and gear as the ones we’ve already seen. Stay low and monitor them. Do not engage, not yet. Understood?”
“Affirmative.”
There was silence for another four seconds. Syala contacted him one last time.
“Hurry up, it’s getting lonely down here.”
Spartan waited a few more seconds and then moved away from the dome and on to the last building near the civic buildings. From there he had a good view of what might have been something quite special in the past, before the start of the occupation. The primary building was of a simple design but flanked by four massive ornamental columns, one of which lay shattered on the ground. A low wall topped with wire surrounded the structure. Banners hung down with the iconography of several organisations, one of which was the Red Scars.
Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War Page 19
