War Zone (Star Crusades: Mercenaries Book 5)

by Thomas, Michael G.

  "I doubt it’s Tahkeome. Who really cares if he wins or fails? Self interest always comes first, so there has to be a way to profit from his success over anybody else."

  "Okay...so what else then?"

  Spartan knew the answer right away.

  "It's not Tahkeome. It's his regime. This new empire he's building from the ashes of two different peoples. If he succeeds, he will be the number one super power, and he'll need everything from agricultural machinery through to roads, ships, and weapons."

  "Don't we need those things?"

  Spartan smiled at her naivety.

  "Of course. But we're still paying for the last war. With the Helions smashed, we're the ones picking up the tab, and it's going slowly. Who will pay for civilian and military rebuilding this far from the core colonies?"

  "Ah, right. So, a new and resurgent empire will have money or goods to exchange for everything else. It's a massive market and opportunity. And if a fight is coming, you'll want to be financing and supplying the winning side, won't you?"

  The two came to the same conclusion within a fraction of a second.

  "Hang on, it can't be," said Spartan, "The weapons look a lot like ours, but what if they're not reverse engineering them. Could Alliance intelligence be financing this? Maybe sending them equipment and weapons?"

  Syala laughed at the suggestion.

  "Why? Create a new powerbloc on our doorstep? No, this has to be somebody that will benefit from creating new machinery, equipment, weapons, and technology."

  Spartan looked down at his carbine resting against the wall of the room. He carried the XC-1 wherever he went, yet rarely spent time just looking at it. He bent down and lifted the gun to his arms. The model name ran down the side of the barrel assembly in a stretched, wide font engraved into the surface. What caught his eye more than anything else was the triangular arrangement for the corporation that built the weapons.

  CTC!

  He swallowed as his mind shifted to the mega corporation. They were now the single, largest research and manufacturing entity in the Alliance, with more employees than even the entire state bureaucracy.

  No, it can't be.

  The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. His facial muscles tightened up as his mind ran through the many permutations. Just knowing how involved he was with the company left him feeling physically sick.

  "What is it?"

  Spartan grimaced.

  "I can't believe I missed it. It's CTC. It has to be."

  "The Carthago Trade Consortium? As in the single biggest manufacturing source in the entire Alliance?"

  Spartan sighed.

  "Yeah, and they've turned their backs on us. I need to get a message out to Gun, and fast. If we've worked it out, then others might have as well. And CTC won't sit back and wait. We were so busy looking for enemies outside with Tahkeome, we never looked at those that might be right next to us."

  * * *

  A single light hung from the ceiling of the storeroom, filling the place with a gentle glow that barely showed the details of the two figures inside. One remained upright, the other slouched over a table. He lifted his head up and began laughing. He spoke, but the words were not even recognised by the translators and served to irritate Khan even more. He moved in close and stared hard at the officer who spat on the table, and then spoke in barely understandable English.

  "I've already told you. Lay down your arms today, and you will be treated...well."

  He laughed again.

  "Actually, no, you won't be treated well. But you might live, as a slave soldier, or perhaps a cleaner. Who knows what..."

  Khan swung his fist at the alien officer, catching him just below the chin, a light blow from him but enough to break the jaw of most people. Decanus Seanoi's head twisted about, but incredibly he remained conscious. Khan leaned in close.

  "Play the smart ass again, and I'll take your head clean off."

  The door opened, and in walked Spartan in his full armour. His helmet was on, though the visor was open. Khan knew that it meant trouble.

  "Yeah?" Khan asked.

  Spartan looked to the chained prisoners and the blood dripping from his mouth.

  "I thought you were just talking to him?"

  Khan shrugged innocently. "I was, but he pissed me off."

  Spartan raised his eyebrows and signalled to the door.

  "Come with me."

  Khan moved away from the prisoner, who started calling out after him. He paused for a moment, but Spartan gave him a stern look, one he knew meant something was going on. They moved outside, and the heavy door swung shut with a dull thud. The wide passageway was a hive of activity as soldiers of all types carried equipment.

  "What's happening?"

  Spartan leaned in a little and spoke quietly.

  "I just got word from Nakoma. She's twelve hours from making contact with her people."

  "And?"

  "Uktakki is still with her. He says they've assembled nearly three hundred clan warriors just getting there."

  Khan's eyebrows rose further.

  "He thinks the attack is looking likely, assuming she can rally those still in hiding. It's a good force, but not enough to win on its own."

  He placed a hand on Khan's shoulder.

  "We can do this together, old friend, but not apart."

  Khan considered his words for a moment.

  "Okay, fair enough. What else?"

  Spartan grinned. He knew Khan understood there was more than this to explain. They'd known each other long enough for both to know that. The future attack was days away and relied on a number of variables. The interrogation of Decanus Seanoi was not high on that list of priorities.

  "Nakoma says she has information that an attack is imminent. They know about our bases underground."

  Khan's right eyebrow lifted in wry amusement.

  "And you believe her?"

  Spartan nodded.

  "Yes. Why would she lie? She can't win this fight unless we can create a diversion for her forces to break into the city."

  Khan had no immediate answer for that. Before he could say more, loud voices caught their attention. Khan lifted the corner of his lip up in irritation.

  "I know that sound."

  The two walked from the closed door and along the passage that led to a larger communal area. This was originally a generator room, now it functioned as a common area for more than a hundred Byotai, many of which slept wherever they could find space. Most were sitting down or resting, all apart from one group off in the corner.

  "Look, there."

  Khan pointed to where a dozen or so Byotai were in a heated argument with four uniformed members of the so-called Hyndla Brigade. Sergeant Tyler was there, with his IAB uniform on and chest armour fastened tight to his body. A fresh bandage was wrapped around his head, and just above his left eye to hide the recent wounds to his body. He spotted Spartan and Khan enter and indicated for them to hurry on over. Spartan glanced at Khan.

  "Come on."

  Spartan led them towards the group, and as they moved closer, neither could avoid looking at the dirt-covered and exhausted citizen soldiers. There were few true warriors among them, and with each passing day, the number of refugees increased. Perhaps a quarter was armed, and far less had anything close to resembling combat armour. As they walked past, their eyes rose to look upon the armoured soldiers.

  "Spartan," said Sergeant Tyler.

  The two exchanged a firm handshake. It was hardly protocol, but down here they were not soldiers, they were mercenaries, and technically that made most of them civilians.

  "What's happening?"

  Tyler leaned closer and whispered.

  "I don't know, but this kid is looking for trouble. Enough of them seem to be agreeing with him as well. I don't like it."

  The two loudest of the militia stopped talking and then faced off towards the angriest of the group. He was a young Byotai, his skin still dark and marked with
vibrant black and brown shapes. He was bareheaded and wore a Helion breastplate that had been punctured twice by bullets. The young fighter started to shout just as Kanjana rushed in. She wore her usual tightly fitted armour, and her Anicinàbe form had an instant effect on the young Byotai. She looked back to Spartan, and her expression immediately concerned him.

  "Spartan, we've got a problem."

  "Oh?"

  The Byotai continued his rant, but the suit's translator managed just the odd word, leaving him with a confused tangle of nonsense. He looked to Kanjana and lifted his hands in exasperation.

  "Well?"

  "His name is Kronir, and he says that you, Khan, and the others are using them to fight your own private war with Tahkeome and his allies."

  "What?"

  Spartan hadn't meant for his words to come out so loud, and it drew in more of the Byotai. Some started shouting over the sound of the young fighter, but soon there were more than enough on both sides. After nearly three minutes of the arguments, Spartan waded into the middle of the group.

  "Enough!"

  Kanjana translated, but some still started to talk. Kronir muttered, and Spartan moved right up to him so that their faces were centimetres apart.

  "Tell me now, what's your problem?"

  As Kanjana translated the alien's grievances, Spartan found his temper worsening. The complaints and accusations were long and complex; made much worse in that nearly half of those inside seemed to agree with him. Finally, he lifted a hand and halted the performance that seemed to be getting louder and louder. The blame for the fighting infuriated him, especially after having seen so many killed in the last months.

  "We came here at your request and have spilled so much of our own blood."

  His expression hardened as he recalled the Humans, Helions, Khreenk, and others that had died in this fight.

  "Tenskwatawa betrayed us, and now he will strip this planet for his new masters. Your own race has been overrun by these people, will you roll over and let them take it from you?"

  A few of the agitators stepped back, with some grumbling. Kronir did not move, though his expression did soften for a fraction of a second. Then, as though somebody whispered in his ear, he changed.

  "No. My family are prisoners now, and they will keep taking us until this is over."

  He pointed an accusing hand at Spartan.

  "You promised us victory, and instead we live in the dirt, and each day more of us die. We had a chance to join Tenskwatawa. Governor Nak Sekieki joined them and so have many more. My family are dead or hostages of Tenskwatawa because we refused to negotiate for peace."

  Kanjana tried to plead with him, but he took umbrage at the lithe and beautiful Anicinàbe trying to placate him. She managed a few words before two of his comrades moved to his flanks and drew knives.

  "Hey, that's enough!" said Spartan.

  His own right hand moved to his flank where he always carried a sidearm, but he intentionally avoided letting his hand actually come into contact with the holster. He watched Kronir carefully, waiting for a sign that would force him to intervene. Kanjana lifted out a pale hand, and he hit it aside.

  "Now you've betrayed us all, Biomech slave."

  Spartan had not heard a Byotai speak in this way before, and the connection between him and the Biomechs was an unwelcome one. More Byotai entered the area, some perhaps looking to rest, others attracted by the sounds of argument. Kronir pointed at Khan.

  "We fight here in this ruin, and for what? Karnak is a wasteland now. It is nothing to us. Victory or defeat, we still lose."

  Spartan tilted his head and examined the features of the young man's face. The Byotai expressed themselves differently to other races, but there were similarities even he could pick out. He'd seen what joy and fear looked like, and there was no pleasure on Kronir's face, but he did get a strong sense of relief. Spartan turned to Khan and breathed more easily at spotting a unit of six Helion mercenaries moving along the back of the room. The Byotai were reasonably reliable, but his mercenaries could definitely be counted upon. Spartan nodded as Kronir finished his rant.

  "I understand. And if you want to become slaves to Tenskwatawa, then leave. Your people are already fading into history, another race and society without the backbone to fight for what's yours."

  That appeared to have little effect on the Byotai. Instead, his lips opened and closed as though wanting to say something, but each time he stopped and took in more air.

  "Spartan," said Khan.

  He looked to his friend who was already reaching for a blade. Both turned their gaze to Kronir who opened up the long coat that ran to his knees. At the same time, they inched backwards, both sensing danger. Kanjana saw what they were doing and moved discreetly away, giving the impression that Kronir had won this round of the argument. As the coat moved further away, it uncovered a long ammunition belt, covered with cabling running up to his neck. He spoke more slowly this time, and Spartan took a step back as he listened.

  "Spartan, you cannot win this war for us, but it must end, even if that means we must first lose this war."

  Spartan knew exactly what was going on, and his body told him what to do well before his mind explained it. He threw himself against the nearest Byotai, knocking several to the floor. Khan did the same, almost breaking the limbs of those nearby. Kanjana tried to run, but a pair of Byotai males unintentionally blocked her path.

  "Back!" Spartan yelled.

  The young Byotai moved after them, though evidently in no great hurry. No one translated his words now, but the computerised translator in Spartan's armour had little trouble with the slow and deliberate words used by Kronir.

  "Only with your death can any of us find peace. I do this for my family, and for the memory of our people. With your death, we will have our promised peace."

  As she struggled past them, Kronir exploded in a terrifying flash of light and blood. The blast was not massive, but more than enough to disintegrate his body, as well as the handful right next to him. Spartan and Khan avoided the worst of the blast but were still hit by a few small chunks of debris, as well as the splatter of fresh blood. Kanjana took the full brunt in her side and hit the ground, with blood running from multiple wounds to her arm and torso. The two Byotai that had blocked her path were nowhere to be seen, their shattered bodies now scattered through the large room. She'd have joined them had she not been wearing her modern armour. Another of the Byotai revealed explosives strapped to his chest, but this time the mercenaries were ready. A Helion opened fire, hitting the alien in the forehead and sending his body crashing to the ground. Others ran screaming, but some stayed to check the many wounded crying out in pain.

  "Kanjana!"

  Spartan ignored the others and rushed to Kanjana's side, leaning in to check the wounds. Khan meanwhile moved to the centre of the room, with weapons drawn and looking into the crowd. Helion mercenaries swept in to assist, and most of the last remaining Byotai survivors broke and ran for the exits. With the numbers gone, it was easier to pick out the remaining hostile Byotai who then drew sidearms and blades. A door to the side opened, and more Byotai moved in. Most were civilians, and all carried weapons taken in the recent fighting.

  "Help her!" Spartan shouted, "She took the blast for us."

  A Helion combat medic knelt down, only for a Byotai to leap onto his back and plunge a blade into the back of his neck. The tip pushed out from the front of the neck, and he slumped down, blood bubbling and gurgling from his wound. Spartan twisted about and leapt up, slamming his fist into the Byotai's face, sending him staggering backwards. At the same time, Khan extended a blade on his Thumper and swung the weapon at the stumbling Byotai. The blade caught him at the base of the neck and removed the head in a single, clean movement. A great cry roared from the dozens of other Byotai, and they surged forwards.

  "Protect Spartan!" Khan ordered.

  Shots rang out as the three remaining Helion mercenaries rushed in, and in a matter of seconds, a
loose cordon formed around Spartan. Shots continued flashing back and forth, but Spartan wasn't interested. He turned back even as bullets glanced off his armour and onto Kanjana's face. She was naturally pale, but already the colour was running from her. A red spot marked her forehead, and it took a moment before he realised she'd been hit by gunfire. More bullets hit him, and Khan grabbed him just as two of the Helions dropped to the ground. There were at least thirty Byotai in there, and all seemed eager to end their lives. The gunfire stopped, and one moved to the front, while the cries of pain from the wounded continued.

  "You murdering bastards," muttered Spartan.

  The single Byotai moved closer but stopped out of Spartan's reach. He lowered his head a small amount and then indicated towards the dozens of his followers, most of whom pointed their guns at Spartan or Khan. Spartan snarled as he looked at them, giving particular attention to their eyes. He recognised the fear in them, and that appeared to make him even angrier.

  "Lay down your weapons."

  The words were in accented English and clearly rehearsed. Spartan listened in disbelief. As his hand moved down to his sidearm, a number of the Byotai muttered and pointed their guns at his face. Spartan's hand fidgeted near the pistol, and Khan held his Thumper levelled as though undecided.

  "We have sent terms to Tenskwatawa," said their representative, "The war ends today, and your bodies are the currency we must..."

  "No chance!" Khan roared.

  There was no hesitation from him, and he threw himself forward and towards the cowering Byotai. Several had been watching him for signs of trouble and opened up with the guns at close-range. Several chunks of the Blood Pack armour tore off and broke, but even as bullets pushed into his body, he reached them. Khan swung his Thumper while firing the weapon. At this range, the large calibre shells tore bodies apart in a terrible fashion. He didn't stop there and barged into the crowd, firing and swinging the weapon from left to right. Some were shot and others cut apart by the blade.