War Zone (Star Crusades: Mercenaries Book 5)

by Thomas, Michael G.

  "Cut them down!" Khan shouted.

  The Jötnar were next and went to work against the mob with brutal and horrific efficiency. The Thumpers blew bodies apart at this distance, and when they ran out, they used them as heavy metal clubs; hacking and smashing like the terrifying monsters that they were. Helion mercenaries were next, and the Byotai joined in warily, shooting where possible. They kept close behind their brethren with the heavy armour.

  "Don't stop," Spartan ordered.

  He grunted as he fired one shot after another at close-range. The experimental carbine was a brutal weapon, and its superheated shells disintegrated so many of the Technos that some began to waver.

  "They're breaking!" said Khan.

  An entire group of them rushed him, but the other mercenaries were there now, and with equal numbers facing off, the better-trained and equipped mercs had the upper hand. The vast numbers of Technos further back were unable to join in the fight and resorted to shouting and yelling to encourage their comrades, even as many more fell. Spartan ducked past another three and jumped up onto a partially collapsed wall. This raised him nearly two metres, and from there, he watched his warriors engage the much larger host of Technos. Explosions tore along the battle line, and entire swathes panicked and broke, as they were overwhelmed.

  Cocky bastards paid the price this time.

  That was the moment he spotted the pale white, almost bone-coloured soldiers nearly two hundred metres further back and atop the next ridge. The standards fluttered in the wind, but already these professional-looking soldiers were moving away from the battlefield.

  They slink away for another day.

  Spartan sighed with frustration and looked to his own warriors. The battle was far from over, though he had little doubt that on this occasion, they'd won the day.

  "Push them back. Drive them out of Movi!"

  His amplified voice must have sounded alien and odd to the Technos, but it spread through the internal communications of the mercenaries in an instant. Gunfire crackled and explosions continued. Spartan could feel the tide turn at that very second.

  There...it begins.

  Those in front melted away, and then the Technos were running for their lives. Whatever grandiose scheme had encouraged them to stand there, in the open and unarmoured, had failed.

  "They're running like whipped dogs!" shouted a Jötnar.

  "Run them down. No prisoners!" shouted another.

  On any other day Spartan would have called them back. The battle was over, but he knew he needed to kill the enemy, not just win battles. So he relented, and as the fighting ended, the killing began in earnest, the entire storm drain filling with the cries of the dying. Spartan watched the pursuit from his raised position and panted from his exertions. Khan moved to his flank and nodded his head repeatedly.

  "We got them this time. We can push them back to Tanau."

  Spartan sighed.

  "Give them ten more minutes. Then call them back."

  Khan snorted, but even he could see that an uncontrolled pursuit could end badly for them. Small groups were already attempting to rally, and the more senior members actually managed it on a few occasions, before being cut down in the massed panic.

  "What next?"

  Spartan pointed to the ground.

  "We take whatever weapons, supplies, food, and gear we can, and we disappear back underground."

  Khan did not seem impressed.

  "So, that was the Third battle of Movi. Will there be a fourth?"

  "We'll find out soon enough, old friend. If Gun can get the General on board, it might be sooner than expected."

  Spartan sighed at hearing that. General Daniels would likely back Gun. He was not one for the rulebooks, and unlike most Alliance senior officers, he had personal experience of the fighting on Karnak. Back when it had been a minor border insurgency, he'd been the one helping the Byotai organise.

  "Let's hope so. If it hadn't been for Daniels, this entire planet would now be part of the Star Empire."

  Khan chuckled, especially as an enemy soldier tried to run and was tripped up by a young Byotai. Another two leapt on the unfortunate soul. They struck the Techno across the face and bound his hands with nylon binders.

  "True, but the IAB isn't his to do whatever he wants with. If Anderson and Command say no, he won't be able to leave Taxxu, let alone get here."

  Spartan spotted something of interest a little further back. A small group of better-armoured soldiers had been surrounded, and some of the Jötnar were taking hold of them. To Spartan's surprise, he noticed that between them were a number of Byotai militiamen chained to their tormentors. Of more interest, one dropped a massive Jötnar Thumper. Just seeing the weapon of his friend in the hands of the enemy made his blood boil but also gave him a glimmer of hope. The sole way to get those weapons would be by taking them from dead or captured Jötnar.

  Olik. Could he be alive?

  Just the possibility lifted his spirits.

  "Khan, I want to speak with those prisoners as soon as this is over. Understood?"

  Khan nodded slowly, and then also noticed the weapon. He spun around to face Spartan and opened his visor, even though the battle continued to rage.

  "They've encountered Jötnar."

  Spartan deactivated his own visor and grinned, though it looked more like a grimace as he panted.

  "I know. There's a chance."

  Once more Spartan pointed to them.

  "Bring them to me. I need intelligence if we're gonna have any chance in this one. Whether Gun gets here or not, this war is a long way from finished."

  Spartan struck his right foot on the ground.

  "And then get our units back underground and the crews back on the defences. We need to make sure we're ready for the next one."

  Khan moved off and in seconds started to bark orders as he headed towards the captured enemy soldiers. He was so busy moving away that he didn't stop to see Spartan stagger and move to the broken pieces of masonry to support himself. A Helion soldier noticed this and moved closer. As the soldier's visor slid away, it revealed a female mercenary, her face marked by burns all up the left-hand side.

  "Sir, are you hurt?"

  Spartan looked down and then groaned upon seeing the metal spike embedded in his flank. It was not a projectile or shell, but a large piece of debris that must have torn off something else during the battle. He moved again and then completely collapsed. The Helion shouted something and repeated it, but in English with a strong accent.

  "Medic!"

  CHAPTER TWO

  CTC Ship 'Defiance', Taxxu Spacebridge, Centauri Alliance

  12 December 2472

  The Rift rippled and crackled with energy as the small convoy of Consortium ships exited the tear in space-time. The Corporation War was minutes away from its short, yet bloody opening and would begin with an attack deep inside the heart of Alliance. The attack was one that none had expected or fully prepared for. While great time and resources protected entry to the System to alien or unrecognised forces, this would come from the very forces that worked, trained, and protected the System. CTC had invested incalculable wealth into Taxxu and had been well rewarded.

  The ships moved fast, each captain keen to pass through the potentially dangerous part of space in as short a time as possible. Their engines pulsed with energy as long tendrils of flashing light stretched out and lashed the ships. One twisted and turned, like the tentacle of some great sea monster, before striking the side of the larger transport, leaving a long black mark along the side of the hull. One moment they were on the periphery of the Helion System, the next they were inside the infamous Taxxu System. All made if through safely, but not without a few new scars to mark the increasingly dangerous journey.

  "Whoa, that was rough!" complained Barbero, "I thought these things were supposed to be safe?"

  Captain Dale heard the complaining further back inside the ship.

  "It is safe, kinda. They're not as reli
able as we thought, though."

  Barbero scowled in mock frustration. He was amongst the company's most experienced security operatives, but unlike the others, he'd spent almost his entire career back in the old world. He'd fought against corporate agents on Carthago, corsairs out on the Rim, and even at the shipyard revolt over Kerberos. For all that experience, he'd travelled through a Rift no more than four times before, and this trip was unlike any of those.

  "Scientists can explain it, so I hear," said the Captain, "All I know is, the more you use it, the more dangerous it gets."

  Barbero raised his eyebrows.

  "Great, so one day we won't be able to use them? Isn't that kind of a problem?"

  The Captain sighed.

  "No, you idiot, of course not. Leave a Rift unused for a few days, and it settles back down. It’s to do with the distortions in space-time, or something like that."

  He then lifted his hands in mock surrender.

  "Don't blame me. I just fly the ship. If you want to know more, ask to speak with the CTC science teams. They might know."

  This time the pilot didn't look back and kept his attention firmly on the controls of the antiquated spacecraft. The bulbous cockpit provided a good view of the area ahead, as well as the flanks. As a civilian ship, much more effort had been placed on visibility than would be expected aboard a military vessel. For all its appearance, even a cursory look would show the motorised blast shutters that could barricade the nose of the vessel and protect the occupants in an emergency.

  "Look at that thing," said an operative.

  All eyes shifted to the vastness of the structure, previously the Biomech homeworld, and now the heart of the Alliance's military efforts in the Orion Sector. The place was something of a myth to those that had never seen it, and a sight others would never forget.

  "Wow!"

  Those inside the lead ship of the convoy grabbed their harnesses, the craft bucking back and forth as one of its manoeuvring thrusters coughed and choked.

  "Hold on," said Captain Dale, "I've lost control of the port secondary thrusters."

  The five mercenaries clung on tightly as their forty-metre long ship moved away from the Taxxu Rift and towards the massive Kha'Dri World Ship. The computer system made a rapid adjustment for the loss of power, just in time for another tendril to reach out and crackle against the port hull, before fading away to leave them in peace. Barbero checked his connection to the external camera feeds and watched the maelstrom of incredible energies fade away until it looked little more than a small whirlpool. He blinked several times and then looked to the commander of their small entourage.

  "Okay, I did not expect it to be like that. Does it normally do that?"

  Senior Manager Jackson Brody shrugged. Private Security units like this one usually avoided military titles, apart from the occasional honorific for retired senior officers. Brody had been a Regimental Sergeant Major a decade earlier. He’d become almost the best-trained and experienced manager in the company, leading squads of elite operatives on all kinds of military operations. They operated on a less formal basis than the military and used their surnames on operations, or occasionally made up call signs or nicknames, though that was usually just something to while away the boredom.

  "Spacebridges don't make much sense to me. Sometimes they're like stepping through a door, and other times it's like the thing wants you to die. It wasn't that long ago before we even knew they existed."

  He leaned in towards Barbero and grinned, baring one of his gold teeth.

  "Did you know that one in a thousand trips ends in a ship being crippled?"

  Barbero swallowed slowly, and his eyebrows lifted up until at length Brody laughed. Barbero still had no idea if the older man was being serious or just making fun of him in front of the others. Jess Sanders, a new member of the unit, beckoned towards the two of them. She was the shortest of them all, not that they could tell inside her armour.

  "I heard in the big one, that we lost an entire troop ship on the way to Spascia. They went into the Rift and nothing came out the other side."

  Barbero looked to her and then to Brody.

  "How can that happen?"

  Even as he said the words, he began to doubt what she'd just told him.

  "Hang on. They had to go somewhere."

  Sanders chuckled.

  "Oh, there's no doubt there. The ship definitely went somewhere. I blame the aliens."

  "Okay," said Brody, "Now take a good look at the World Ship. It's one of a kind, and the most valuable structure ever encountered. Who said the aliens were no good for anything!"

  They all selected the external feeds, and for the next couple of minutes examined the vastness of the alien hulk with a mixture of amazement and awe. Each of them was jammed tight inside their heavy battle armour. They were not Alliance marines or even independent contractors. These were the elite private security operatives of the Carthago Trade Consortium Mega Corporation. The extra bulk brought them up to almost three metres in height, matching the stature of the old Confederate era Vanguard suits. Their large helmets hung open, revealing part of their faces.

  "This is it, shields! Don't forget why we're here," said Brody, "CTC has looked after you for years. Now it's time to return the favour."

  "Hell, yeah!" answered another operative.

  Sanders nodded towards the World Ship.

  "If they're prepared, this will be one short trip."

  Brody's eyebrows lifted as he smiled.

  "Don't worry. Our operatives back home have managed to disrupt communications for the last ten hours. We have a window, but it is a short one. According to the brief, their hibernation protocols will lock them out of the fight, but for a maximum of six hours. After that, they'll be up...and seriously pissed."

  That got a good laugh from the motley collection of battle-hardened mercenaries.

  "If we stick to the plan, we'll be there and our mission over before they know what's hit them. Might not even have to fire a shot."

  Even Sanders knew that was wishful thinking at best. Trouble had been brewing for years between the mega corporations and the state. Jealousy of CTC's wealth was hardly surprising. With the developments made by the teams at Taxxu, it was only a matter of time before those in charge wanted a piece of the pie. Something else had happened in the last few days, though, to cause major ripples. There was talk of dodgy deals, and even illegal trading with the troublesome clan warriors now tearing apart the Byotai Empire. He suspected a lot of that was fabricated, but it did leave an uncomfortable taste in his mouth.

  "Did any of you hear that story about CTC selling weapons tech to the rebels fighting the Byotai?"

  Brody muttered in frustration, but it didn't take long for his deep-seated hatred of non-Humans to come to the surface.

  "Who the hell cares about selling some kit to another bunch of aliens? Sanders, you need to get your head out of your ass and realise that none of these aliens are out to look after us. Humans first, that's my mantra."

  He nodded as though convincing himself of his own argument.

  "CTC has always put us first. You don't know what those idiots on Terra Nova have been up to. I doubt this will come to a fight."

  The scorn the man had for those on the Alliance's capital world was easy to pick out. There was little, if any love between Carthago and Terra Nova. One was the ancient heart of the Alliance, the other a downtrodden industrial world filled with religious malcontents and other troublemakers. Years apart had hardened their attitudes, resulting in a substantial military garrison now present on the surface.

  "Somehow I doubt that, Sir. There's a reason why we're packing heavy assault gear today, and it's not to impress the press."

  Brody seemed to agree.

  "You've got the gear for the same reason as packing condoms."

  Sanders laughed loudly at that. She'd heard the same line so many times; it was barely amusing any more.

  "True. It's like Kafka said, “Better to ha
ve, and not need..."

  "...than to need, and not have,” answered Barbero with a laugh.

  "Exactly," said Brody, "Remember, when we hit the ground, it's gonna get confusing. We've got mercs, IAB operatives, and alien soldiers down there, and all of them will turn on us the minute they hear about the dissolution of CTC."

  Sanders pulled out a double magazine box from her left arm, checked the feed, and slammed it back in with a dull clunk sound.

  "This has been coming for a long time. CTC and the alien loving Alliance military were going to come to blows at some point. I can't believe they want the entire Consortium broken up. Humans fighting Humans, it just ain’t civilised."

  The mood was buoyant inside the ship, though a little hesitant at the magnitude of what they were about to do. None of the squad cared much for politics, but each had a vested interests in the future of the company, and would happily kill to protect those interests.

  "Hold on," said the Captain, "We're rolling onto the landing vector."

  The small vessel rolled slightly as it passed out of the Spacebridge and onto the imaginary path that led to the World Ship. At first glance, it looked little more than any other worn out Juggernaut class transport. Many similar vessels moved in and out of the System every day, and thousands more plied the shipping lanes of the Alliance. They were amongst the most common and successful civilian vessels in service. Their popularity allowed them to slip in places where others might be stopped.

  Closer examination would have revealed a far more sinister role. Although originally a common transport, the ship had undertaken extensive modifications. As a result, it was a tough blockade-runner, with powerful engines, thick armour, and enough space for supplies and a sizable boarding party. Though lacking weaponry, CTC Defiance was more than capable of landing under fire, and substantial repair work showed that had happened on more than one occasion. She was built for combat operations, and this was no mission of peace. Her outer hull was originally a dull yellow, but now most of her paint had faded or peeled off during multiple planetary re-entries. Bare metal and scorched plating marked a long and difficult life. On her flanks were the well-known CTC markings, and her faded identification numbers checked out on all current databases.