Two Grunts leapt out in front and tried to hit the enemy commander, but the fighting machines blocked them, using their bodies as shields. Gun rushed ahead and shoulder barged the first of the pair. Though they were well built, tough, and well armoured, it was clear they were designed specifically for firefights. At this range, Gun used his skill, speed, and brute strength to tear off plates, using the broken pieces like maces to batter and smash the suits. In seconds, one lay torn apart, and he was on to the next. He rushed ahead, ignoring the plinking sound as bullets skimmed off his armour. Grunts crashed around him, and a few even landed on top of the enemy formations, scattering them, and in many cases, killing the targets by the sheer weight of the impact. Some of the mercenaries turned to run, and at that point, Gun sensed the change in the fight.
"General advance!"
Every single remaining warrior jumped up from wherever they were and hurled themselves at the last few units standing their ground. Even some of the technicians rose up, a few brandishing nothing more than their tools, or pieces of broken metal they'd scavenged. A single squad of CTC mercenaries fanned out, creating a last firing line from which the others could retreat. Gun tried to move to help in the fight, but another of the bipedal combat suits came for him, and this time positioned its mantlet in front as it ran.
"Help us!"
Gun glanced to his left and spotted the non-combatant personnel trying to overwhelm the line of mercenaries. Several took hideous bullet wounds, and more ran back to avoid the fire. Gun braced himself, simultaneously swivelling his gun mount to the left. He opened fire for a full four seconds before the suit hit him. Gun intentionally let his right leg slide back, and the combat unit staggered past him.
"Big mistake!"
With the weakly armoured rear facing him, Gun roared with glee as his L56 Mark III cannon mount unleashed a hail of armour-piercing slugs. More than half glanced off, but with such a high rate of fire, he still managed to hammer his way through and to the soft flesh inside. The suit twisted about and then slammed to the ground.
"Enough! Cease fire!"
The voice came from behind the fighting, and at once the CTC operatives lowered their weapons. Gun didn't notice at first and delivered a powerful uppercut to the machine, sending it staggering backwards. He waited there, with Mavericks at his flanks and his robotic Grunts all around.
"Halt!"
They stopped, and for a second, Gun could draw in a few more deep breaths. There were few of the CTC people left able to fight, and Grunts had penetrated inside their transport ship, rendering its use as a citadel from which to fight from. Gun stomped forward, past the front line of bipedal fighting machines, and to the three men in suits. Now that he was closer, he could see they were also wearing armour on their limbs, as well as advanced armour under their jackets. Gun deactivated his visor and scowled at seeing the three men. They dropped their weapons, and shortly after so did the hundreds of remaining CTC mercenaries.
"Where is Walker?"
Two of the men shared a look, but Gun extended his armoured right arm towards the nearest.
"Answer me, or we'll continue this little scrap."
The older executive of the trio took a step closer.
"You're too late, Commander. Our job was to delay you."
Gun clenched his fist tightly, and the man opened up.
"Yes...yes...Well, Mr Walker and our commandos are busy securing your Biomech friends. I suggest you lay down..."
Gun struck him across the side of the face so hard that the man rose from the ground and flew three metres before rolling along the floor. He was already unconscious before he hit the metal plating. Gun moved to the next one and pointed at his face.
"Grunts, secure this level."
A handful of the Mavericks moved close by, and scores of the Grunts formed up a short distance away. Unit after unit of Grunts landed from ANS Titan, moving in fast to disarm their enemies, while searching for any that might be hiding. They moved with ruthless efficiency, leaping over debris and dancing over broken chunks of metal as though it was nothing but air.
Then it happened.
Every single one of them stopped as a great scream reverberated through the World Ship. It was neither the sound of the living or a machine. At first, it had more in common with the great groans and cries of the ship as it had sustained damage. Then it came again, spreading through every single corner of the ship. None knew what it was, save for Gun. He swung open his visor and listened to the sound with his own ears.
On'Sarax!
He'd heard that sound before from the Biomechs, back in that terrible and bloody war. The painful exclamation travelled across multiple frequency ranges and could paralyse a man with fear.
They need us.
It wasn't a roar of battle or defiance, though. This was a call for help, a cry of desperation. On'Sarax and her handful of kin were now all that remained of their ancient and powerful civilisation. A group of biological beings encased for eternity in their robotic bodies.
"Commander, what is it?" Corporal Preston asked.
Gun sniffed the air and scowled at the damage all around him. He had a lot tied up in this facility, but what angered him more than the loss of equipment, spacecraft, and people was the betrayal. He'd lost a lot of good people, but when those closest to him turned, it made his very blood boil. A pair of Grunts assisted with the removal of bodies near a mechanical loader. Gun could see the Alliance uniforms and the dark patches marking where they'd been struck. Most carried nothing but tools, and a good number must have been shot where they stood.
"The rest of you with me. We've got work to do!"
Mechanical machines moved in alongside him, as well as a few of the regular marines still remaining on the World Ship. Only a few machines stayed behind, with a smattering of armed civilians and contractors to assist. Gun lifted a foot to move away and then turned back to look towards the enemy.
"This is over for you. Lift a hand against my people, and you'll be spaced quicker than you can cough."
A mercenary shifted his weight onto his left leg, and a pair of rifles appeared in front of his chest. The engineers behind the weapons looked anything but soft, and one pulled back the loading lever before yelling at him.
"Hands up, now. Right where I can see them."
The operative scowled and lifted his arms up over his head.
"Slowly."
There were a lot of guns out now, and Gun sensed the mood. In theory, it would take little to push them over the edge, but he knew they would exercise restraint. That much was clear from their current predicament.
Good. Now I've got other things to do.
As they moved away, Gun noticed others coming with him. He slowed and looked back to see nearly thirty lightly equipped personnel. Some were deck crew, but most were engineers. As they moved on by, they took weapons from the large numbers of surrendered CTC mercenaries to arm themselves for the coming fight. One especially large engineer took a heavy rotary cannon unit and lifted it up to place on his shoulder. On anybody else it would have looked silly, but for some reason it looked right. Another took a rifle from a mercenary, only for an argument to break out. A single Grunt stepped in between the two and pushed the CTC man backwards a metre.
"Stand down, or..."
The CTC man reached out. The Grunt grabbed his arms and forced him to the ground. The speed and strength of the machines made it nigh on impossible to fight back without injury. Gun was already moving away, but few of the remaining mercenaries gave much thought to resisting. Machines now marched throughout the landing bay, and with the vast hulk of the Alliance starship nearby, resistance was truly a futile gesture.
"With me, hurry!"
Groups appeared as if from nowhere as even those that had been hiding wanted to join in. More moved into the tunnels, and the further they made it from the scene of battle, the faster they moved. Gun led his own unit into a wide passage and glanced back to see the most bizarre sight he'd ever se
en.
They are learning. Good.
Corporal Preston was there, his Maverick armour pushing him along. But behind them was an odd mixture of men and women carrying all manner of weapons. Mixed in with them were more Grunts, a few even managing to keep going with missing limbs. Gun counted at list seventy of them, and according to his tactical scans, at least four more groups were moving deep inside the World Ship.
"To On'Sarax!"
* * *
Kha'Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance
Senior Manager Brody moved at a run, and the two squads of CTC mercenaries ran with him. They'd been moving for what seemed like hour, and with every extra second they moved deeper into the vastness of the World Ship. Three firefights and seven casualties later they were still stuck inside the deep labyrinth of the vessel, and the enemy appeared no closer to capitulating. Not even the single Combat Siege Unit could end the battle any quicker, even though its great bulk had proven a significant morale boost.
"I thought this was supposed to be over in less than an hour?" Barbero asked.
Senior Manager Jackson Brody laughed, but it was all put on and very quiet, something to placate his fellow mercenary and keep his spirits up. Especially as both now bore scorch marks from the heavy fire they'd encountered.
"This place is valuable. Are you surprised they want to take control of it?"
Barbero continued forwards, saying nothing.
"We’ll meet up with the boss and hit those machines. With them out of the picture, this fight will be over. The Commander and his Marine Corps stooges won't fight if we have their precious collaborators under our control."
"If we can stop them," said Jess Sanders, "Have you seen the videostreams of those things?"
"That's enough, Sanders. Keep your eyes front and centre. Stay on mission."
They moved into the next chamber and ran into a force of five marines. These were not the regulars they’d already encountered, but half-equipped personnel, some not even wearing helmets.
"Drop your weapons!" shouted their leader.
Brody said nothing in response, but merely gave a hand signal so that his operatives spread out in a crescent. His people kept their firearms trained on the small unit ahead of them until at last Brody spoke. Unusually, he activated his external audio unit so that his voice boomed loudly in the passageway. So great was the volume it gave his voice a crackly, menacing tone.
"Negative. This is a civilian CTC facility, and we're securing it from an illegal military takeover."
The trainees shared glances, but one, a tall woman with short cut blonde hair, snorted her derision and pointed her weapon directly at Brody.
"No chance. You have no jurisdiction here. Your attack..."
Brody spoke over her, drowning out her voice with his speakers.
"Place your weapons on the ground, and your hands behind your heads. You have five seconds to comply."
Again, a few of the trainees shared anxious words as they faced off against the much larger group. It must have been obvious to both sides that a fight would be over in the first volley and the trainees killed to the last man.
"We cannot..." started the blonde trainee.
Brody whispered over the CTC closed network.
"Drop'em!"
A hole appeared in the trainee's forehead, and she flew backwards. Guns opened up, hitting the trainees in a devastating and terrible volley. All five hit the ground in a mass of bullet-ridden corpses. Before they succumbed, three managed to return fire. They might have been trainees, but they took two of the CTC operatives with them, and badly injured two more.
"Clear!" Sanders yelled.
They shifted ahead to check the bodies, while small fireteams spread out to cover the passage as it widened out. Far off the in distance more flashes marked a myriad of tiny battles, something that must have been happening throughout every single part of the World Ship. A mercenary stopped, deactivated his strongly plated helmet, and vomited on the deck of the passageway.
"Are you still up for this?" Sanders asked him.
The man stared back at him.
"No way. We came here to secure the place, not kill kids."
A few of the others turned to look at their comrade, who now shook with the awful awareness of what they'd done, and what they were there to do.
"Sure about that?"
He swallowed before nodding.
"Wrong choice."
Without hesitation, or any inclination of concern or doubt, Sanders lifted the muzzle of his rifle and put two rounds into the unarmoured face. The unfortunate warrior hit the ground alongside those he'd been so loathe to kill.
"So, anybody else having work-related issues today?"
This time not one of them even considered saying a word to him.
"Very well, then. Keep moving. We've got a schedule to keep."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kha'Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance
Mr Walker still couldn't believe the small number of reports making it back to him. There were few details, but it was clear something had gone wrong. He was tempted to turn back and fix whatever had happened, but he had to complete his own mission first; else this entire endeavour would be a waste of time. He'd assumed a total victory by now, instead of this debacle.
I told them we needed more men.
Assessment at the highest levels of CTC had shown the defences were inadequate against a surprise inside attack. Estimated numbers had been two thousand mercenaries with heavy support. He'd brought in triple that number, with even their ship security details around Helios being called in to assist. This battle was a one-off, and he doubted he'd ever be able to muster such a force, or to achieve a complete and utter surprise again.
It's that Gun and his cronies. We should have got rid of him first. I told them years ago that he was a problem. Maybe now they'll listen.
The formation of sixty-six armed operatives moved through the dark passages of the alien vessel as fast as they could travel. Each wore the heavy armour now commonly worn among CTC mercenaries. While the marines usually used PDS armour, these operatives carried much heavier gear that utilised the latest armour compounds, and even layers of the incredibly expensive nanocrystal paste that was becoming increasingly rare. Normally, he wore a suit, but not today. The minute the fighting had begun he'd traded his smart, tailor made clothing for the same tactical armour used by the CTC operatives. The sole difference between him and them was that he carried a pistol on his flank; the rest of his people carried their standard small arms. He'd not made it this far with the mega corporation by not knowing when he needed to make changes, and fast.
Three levels up, and the seventh passage after the cooling shaft.
He'd retraced the route a thousand times in his mind, ready for this day. He could have simply left it saved as an image in his secpad or on another electronic device. But as expected, the electromagnetic interference in the battle had rendered networking unreliable. There was also the fact that the information was essential and served as a warning of what was to come. He'd left nothing to chance, and that was why he was deep inside the World Ship, with an armed band at his back, and a realistic chance of taking full control of the facility.
"Slow down. We're nearly there."
For a second, he opened up his helmet so that he could smell the air. Years of work on the World Ship had shown him it was often easier to navigate through the vastness of the vessel by scent than by eye.
"Look out for traps, and if anybody approaches not wearing CTC insignia, put them down. This is CTC property."
The large group slowed down and spread out as much as the environment would let them. They were in a strange area, much like a rocky cavern, but with walls made from gigantic storage vats operating at sub-zero temperatures. The outer metal skin bore the designs and artwork of long lost species, and an operative snorted with derision as he moved slowly past.
"Don't be so dismissive, soldier. While we wer
e still sailing across our oceans in wooden ships, these creatures were busy running their own empires in space, and creating technologies we cannot surpass, even today."
"Yes, Mr Walker."
He might not like the creatures that built this place, but he'd seen the wealth of information and technology that had come from exploiting the site over the last decade. At the start, he'd needed the so-called Special Weapons Division and its prominent figures, including Spartan and his friends. Things were different now, and after so much time working on the equipment, his engineers had confirmed they could access the hidden depths of the vessel to plunder its secrets. Mr Walker had zero interest in sharing this information with the state, especially when it was CTC investment that had made all of this possible.
It’s time for us to receive what we deserve. I've been in this stink hole for long enough.
They passed the first of the massive vats, and then out into a wide courtyard that at one point looked as though it could have been a grand reception area or bazaar. Now it was hidden in darkness, with just the low-level lighting providing a dim glow. Movement to their left caught the attention of an operative, and with a quick hand gesture, they scattered and took aim.
"Wait for confirmation."
The shapes moved closer until they could see it was another squad of mercenaries, equipped in much the same fashion. Their leader moved to the front and bowed his head slightly. His armour was quite badly heat damaged, and several of his unit bore the marks of heavy combat.
"Senior Manager Brody, Sir."
Mr Walker gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement and focused his attention on the combat unit insignia on the man's chest. It showed the CTC logo prominently, but a nearby patch the yellow outline of the spacecraft.
"Where is the rest of your unit? You came in on board Defiance, did you not?"
War Zone (Star Crusades: Mercenaries Book 5) Page 18
