Star Crusades Nexus: The Second Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Can you fight?” he asked.

  The Jötnar strained and lifted his battered and badly damaged frame back to his feet. Blood ran freely from a deep gash in his upper torso, but he simply shook his head and stretched his shoulders.

  “Yeah, where’s my gun?”

  Olik looked down and found the weapon, or what remained of it. There were four dead Jötnar on the ground, and Olik unceremoniously tore off one of the Bulldog weapons and dropped it into the hands of the warrior.

  “Better?”

  He smiled in reply.

  “Much.”

  Movement caught Olik’s eye, and he twisted his head about to spot some four-legged robotic mules running down the passageway like a small group of horses. They were the pack version, and each had been fitted out with the large box units containing addition ammunition. He indicated to the nearest, and it turned slightly to run up and stop next to Olik. Its legs folded in, and it lowered to the ground as a stationary ammunition store.

  Good timing, my little friend.

  The other Rams, as they were known, moved into a position behind the rest of the fighters. Olik turned to his left and deactivated the second feed unit on his armor. It disconnected the current ammunition bin with a clunk. The feed rail dropped down, and he grabbed and then pushed it into the hopper section on the Ram. He had no time to remove an ammunition box and so left it fitted to the Ram. He turned back around just in time to see the next wave of machines and inhuman warriors surging over the bodies.

  “I’ve got something for you!” he yelled, much to the amusement of his kin.

  The massive shapes of the six-legged walkers moved to give away their intentions to close the distance. Even more worrying for Olik was the Jötnar sized shapes moving alongside them. At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but two of them came out of the shadows, and it looked as though he was looking at his own reflection. The creatures were the same massive height and shape as him, yet these were clad from head to toe in dull black iron, or something at least that resembled it. Each carried a different kind of weapon, with some holding large guns, others a bizarre shoulder mounted rocket unit, and the majority with cruel curved blades.

  “Monsters!” he hissed.

  There was nothing that the Jötnar hated more than their kin that had been forced to serve the Biomechs. Olik and the others were free of the control of the Cores used by the Biomechs, yet their sympathy and hatred of their enthralled brothers was like no other feeling to them. Either they could be turned or they would die. For those that had been manufactured for war, it was almost always the latter of the two.

  “No mercy!”

  The sound of his gun was barely audible over the rest of the gunfire. It was the six-legged walkers that did the real damage in the end though. Unlike the weapons carried by the other warriors, the Biomechs had learned to fit larger systems to these machines. The great thump of large caliber automatic cannons filled the passageway. The first volley of their guns hit two of the Jötnar in the front rank and cut both of them down where that had been standing.

  “Bastards!” Olik snapped.

  He could only just make out their shapes far away, but he could see the streaks of gunfire and the status indicators that said two of his brothers were dead. He moved ahead as a score of the warriors ran in. Without giving them a moment’s thought, he grabbed one of the shattered arachnid machines and lifted it up in his armored left hand. The eight legs hung down lifelessly, but the shape itself covered over half of his body. Two of the creatures cut at his left, and he slammed his foot into the head of the nearest.

  “Die, you filth!”

  Another Jötnar hacked the second down. He did the same as Olik and picked up a turret section that had been blown off one of the walkers. In seconds, over half of the Jötnar had grabbed the fallen enemies’ remains and held them as a grisly shield to protect against incoming fire. One of them laughed, hurling a shattered warrior over his shoulder like a cloak and then grabbed another to push in front. More gunfire hammered into them, tearing holes deep into the flesh of the dead. Olik allowed himself a moment to smile as more blood splashed and splattered over him.

  Yeah, that’s how we do it.

  One of the other Jötnar nodded in his direction before turning back to the fight.

  “Commander Olik, you’re one of us now.”

  He cut down two more enemies and looked down. Blood ran down his armor in such quantities the color of his armor had changed to a dull red. Even more blood ran down the cracked visor and thickened along the damaged section.

  Red Watch indeed.

  The smile on his face began to fade as watched the third of the massive walkers drop down over the bodies and landed just ten meters away. The multiple turrets fitted to its flanks swiveled about and pointed at his comrades. One in particular twisted back and forth before coming to a halt with the barrel pointing right at him. He pulled the trigger on his weapon, and to his bitter disappointment, the weapon jammed on a double feed.

  “Typical!”

  * * *

  Teresa rolled to her side and immediately felt one of the articulated sections of her armor push against her flesh. Two hardened metal spikes slammed down a meter from her head, and a third made directly for her.

  “Get down!” cried Captain Rivers.

  The officer hurled himself at her, and they hit the ground in a mess on the floor. The metal spike struck the ground and embedded itself half a meter into the stone. The digging machine that had begun pushing its way through the ceiling had become stuck, and for whatever reason, the attack from that direction had floundered. Either because of their defensive fire, or some other fluke, the thing was immobile. The enemy had not stayed idle, however, and they had redoubled their efforts on three of the main arms. A second large group worked down from the upper levels over the base and tried to force their way through the winding passageways leading down to the plaza.

  “How are we doing?” asked the Captain.

  Teresa lifted herself up and opened up her visor to let in some air.

  “We’re holding. One second, I need to speak with the Major.”

  Captain Rivers nodded and moved off to the right to help those defending the barricades. With the attack above them rendered useless, only a trickle of the enemy warriors managed to find their way to the plaza. Even so, he would be damned if he’d let even one get too close. Teresa waited impatiently until the video of the Major appeared on her visor.

  “Colonel,” he said smoothly.

  “Major Terson. What is the status of the ship?”

  “She’s ready, Colonel. All we need is the order.”

  Teresa gulped in another mouthful of air and then reclosed her visor.

  “Good, that’s what I wanted to hear. Standby and wait for the word.”

  “Understood, good hunting, Colonel.”

  Teresa didn’t really know the Major particularly well, but his reputation was outstanding in the Corps. More than that, of all her officers, he was the only one with a background in the Navy, having changed service halfway through his career to join the Marines. That knowledge and background was exactly what she thought she would need if the plan worked out as intended. Major Terson had come with the personal recommendation of General Rivers himself. He’d been working discreetly in the shadows with the other commanders to prepare her more secretive part of the operation ever since her talk with the Admiral. She’d also left Captain Tycho and Thompson with him to assist, and they had made rapid progress.

  Good work, Major, damned good work.

  If it hadn’t been for the violence in the plaza, she might have been able to calm down. The Biomechs had so far concentrated the bulk of their efforts on one of the legs of the base but still the odd straggler made it in from other parts. An emergency override kicked in from Admiral Churchill.

  “Colonel Morato. Our surface guns forced back the next wave of landers. All we have to deal with it those that are already here.”
>
  That was surprising news to her. At the last count, almost all of the surface guns had been eliminated. It hadn’t occurred to her that the commander of the outer defenses would have kept so many hidden. Her gut instinct would have been to use all of the defenses to stop the first wave. This was a cold, calculated plan, but it put a smile on her face.

  That cunning devil!

  “Colonel, the enemy fleet will be overhead again in less than an hour.”

  Teresa hadn’t expected to hear that. As far as she understood, the entire assault had already been unleashed.

  “What do you mean? You think another wave is coming in?”

  He nodded in reply.

  “Our recon birds show they are preparing another wave of Biorays. Those we’ve beaten off are moving to join them. I suspect they will launch a second final assault as soon as they’re in position.”

  Teresa’s thoughts shifted to the waiting ship with its precious cargo aboard. The value of a Biomech commander was understandable, but she was surprised they were quite so adamant in their plans to recover it.

  Why this one? Why is it so important?”

  The only answer she had to hand was what she’d seen in the reports. This one was certainly a regional commander, and it had been trying to make a run for the Black Rift when it had been stopped and captured in battle. Either it was a big risk on their part, or it had been a plan to get captured in the first place. The only option was the most obvious to her; that the Biomech had been as arrogant as the actions it had carried out. If the machine had truly believed it would succeed, then perhaps its own hubris had allowed its defeat.

  “Colonel, you know the plan. You have to ensure they cannot get their hands on Krani?”

  That’s it!

  Of all the options, there was only one that really made sense. The machines were on the move, and that was common knowledge. It was also known that their primary objective was Helios, and after that, presumably the chance to open the Black Rift to their homeworld, and whatever mysteries their domain included.

  It has to be the machine’s knowledge. Their plan is reaching its conclusion, and they are scared we will learn the Biomech’s secret.

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. Until now, the Biomechs had never put so much effort into recovering one of their own. If this machine had critical information, then there was also another worry. They might be just as keen to destroy it, as they were to capture it.

  That could be a problem!

  It was all happening much more quickly than she thought it would, and her heart felt like it would explode out of her chest. She checked her overhead tactical display and noted that all of the eight legs were still under Alliance control. Three were under heavy attack, and it would not take much for one of them to break. The only good news was that all the Biorays had deposited their troops, and there was no reserve for them to make use of.

  We just need to hold for ten or fifteen minutes, and we’ll have time to rebuild the defenses.

  “I’m ready, Admiral. I think we should hold on a little longer though. The longer we can hold Prometheus, the harder it will be for them to get Krani.”

  There was a short pause on the other end. Teresa looked slightly to her right to see on the indicator that their channel was wide-band and using the security coding from over a week earlier. Against any other foe, it would be almost impossible to access, but it was well known that the machines were the masters of ciphers and decryption.

  Let’s just hope they heard that and take the bait.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  How did the Biomechs travel between T’Karan in the Orion Nebula, and Mars in Sol? It was one of the greatest questions asked by military commanders, scientists, and politicians throughout the Helion Crisis. It had only happened once in recorded history, yet the disappearance of a T’Kari Raider, and the reappearance of Alliance captives near Earth, left a great question unanswered. The only logical answer was that there must be a third place, a missing Nexus between T’Karan and Sol. As more was learned about the Biomechs, it became clear that unraveling this mystery would prove the key to defeating them.

  Evolution of the Biomechs

  The route inside the refinery seemed to be taking much longer than expected. They had already been making their way inside for nearly fifteen minutes when the first attack came. It started without any warning when a trio of human sized figures emerged from the dark end of the passageway. Spartan immediately lifted his modified TEK40s.

  "Hey, get your hands up!"

  None of the shapes stopped and actually increased speed. They moved in an odd way, and they were clearly finding the low gravity an issue as they tried to reach the group. One used its arms to pull itself along the walls. Spartan lifted the barrels and took aim.

  “Last warning. Stop!”

  His finger squeezed ever so slowly over the trigger, and one of the Earthsec operatives stepped out and lifted a hand to stop him.

  "No, they might be..."

  Khan grabbed the man and yanked him out of the way. Spartan pulled the trigger completely back. It was perfect timing. Another half a second would have resulted in a dead man, rather than one that was speechless from shock.

  “Stay back!” he growled.

  The pair of TEK40 rifles drowned out his last words and filled the passageway with bright light. The small caliber rounds hit those approaching with a metallic twang and the occasional meaty thud as some penetrated their thick, armor-like hide. Even so, it took a long burst of nearly two seconds in length for them to be stopped.

  “That is one piece of junk,” muttered Spartan.

  He looked back to Khan and then to the Earthsec man.

  “Don’t even think about doing that again, understood?”

  The man tried to speak, and Spartan simply shook his head angrily. As the reverberating sound of the gunfire finally cleared, the Earthsec fighters moved up to Spartan. One of them pointed back into the passageway. Spartan could feel his rage starting to build, and he knew from experience it was always best to find an outlet as quickly as possible.

  "Watch your fire, Spartan. There are civvies down here."

  He made to move, but Spartan grabbed him about the throat with his left hand. The grip would have been strong, even with his real hand, but with his new improved appendage, he found he could snap the man's neck if he so wished; and right then he was very tempted.

  "Listen to me, asshole. I know a man when I see one, and I know when it’s alien and heading for me with nothing but a bad attitude and cruel intentions on its mind. Next time you want to find out which one it is, just walk toward it and ask nicely, understood?"

  He released the man who then proceeded to cough and choke.

  "Now, go and check the bodies out. You might be surprised by what you find."

  All of them did, and even Spartan was shaken by what they saw. They were quite clearly not friendly, but they were also unlike anything he had seen before. Previously, the warriors sent by the Biomechs had been a mixture of biological monstrosities and synthetic warriors like Khan. Even the machines had a certain form and structure that these new warriors lacked completely.

  “What the hell are these?” he said and bent down to examine the nearest.

  Marcus walked up alongside him and placed his fist on one of them, checking if it were still alive.

  “I’ve seen these before.”

  He then looked at Spartan.

  “These are the same assault troops the Biomechs used on Eos. It looks like their battlefield assets are as varied as their ships.”

  Spartan said no more but examined them in detail. Based upon their armor and weapons, they were definitely not friendly and about the same size and build as Spartan. There was a subtle variation in shade and size that betrayed their construction as something more natural than the mass-produced synthetics he’d seen before. Their skin was hard like metal and colored as dulled iron, with almost no reflection given off. The heads we
re protected inside a thick helm where a pair of dead eyes stared out. Only one was still alive, and unlike the others, its eyes glowed red.

  Either they are bred, or they make them from butchered captives.

  He wasn’t sure which of the two options turned his stomach the most.

  "This one still breathes," growled Khan.

  Marcus was there first and dropped in front of the machine. The speed he moved to the alien surprised all of them, and at first it looked as though he was genuinely interested in its safety.

  "Are you with the Twelve?" he asked desperately.

  Twelve? Spartan wondered.

  The creature's eyes moved a little to stare at Marcus, and then with a low sigh it breathed its last breath. Its eyes faded to black, just like the other one. After checking for weapons, they pulled the bodies to one side and continued on their way. The small group didn't make it far before Spartan finally stopped and moved back to Marcus.

  "Is there something you're not telling us?"

  The others stopped and waited impassively, with just Khan standing with his large arms crossed in front of his chest.

  "What do you mean?"

  Spartan hissed through his teeth.

  "Don't play games, Marcus. I checked the plans on the way here. We've moved around the habitation area, and this is skirting around the mining shafts, isn't it? The Twelve? What in the name of all that’s holy is the Twelve?"

  Marcus looked to Khan and then to Spartan.

  "Yes. You're right. There’s a lot you don’t know."

  Spartan lowered the muzzle of his weapons to the floor and took his time.

  "So I'll ask you again, what are you not telling us? What is this ‘Twelve’ you asked the creature about?"

  "Why bother asking?" added Khan, "They don't speak the same languages as us, and they never respond."