Star Crusades Nexus: The Second Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “So this is one of your Milites?”

  “Yes.”

  Spartan shook the warrior, but it did nothing. With a mutter of disgust, he cast it back to the ground.

  “I don’t like any of this. What happened to their ships? There’s no way in hell the one frigate and the war barge stopped them.”

  “That is correct. My security protocols were activated the moment you accessed my burial chamber. It was I that connected to your security grid. I am also responsible for collapsing the Rift as the enemy entered the system. The timing was…ah…beneficial.”

  Spartan paced about the machine as though entering a debate with an equal.

  “So you’re saying that you wiped out their fleet by collapsing the Rift.”

  “No, I destroyed three ships and crippled all but the command ship. It was heavily damaged before your two ships finished the job. The landers on your world are all that remain of the Bandon of Dersna.”

  Cobb and three more of the operatives form the original landing moved out from cover. Three of the civilians joined them and all carried a mixture of thermal shotguns, each one of a different age and manufacture. The weapons were puny in comparison to the gear being used by the operatives and even less impressive than anything carried by the Biomech. The majority of the civilians was much less confident and kept themselves well hidden.

  "Spartan, I owe you an apology...and my thanks," said Cobb, extending a hand.

  Spartan took it and nodded grimly.

  "Yeah, it usually works out this way. Ever the easy ones."

  All of them looked back to the machine that waited in silence. Even as it had been explaining itself, the survivors had been checking the area, patching up the wounded, and ensuring every door and access point was secured. All while this was going on, the machine just waited, as though it had never even moved. The preparations finally stopped, and Spartan, Khan, and Marcus moved in front of it and joined the Earthsec operatives who'd kept their weapons trained on it all this time.

  "You might as well lower those things," Spartan said.

  Khan nodded in complete agreement.

  "True. A TEK 40 is about as much use as indigestion against that thing."

  It was hardly the most sophisticated joke in history, but Spartan laughed to himself, partially because of the unusual situation they were in, but also because he could remember Khan and Gun from back in the beginning. It was at that time when saying just a few words was a big deal. These days Khan was cracking barbs and jokes just like the rest of them.

  Times definitely change, he thought and lifted his gaze to the machine.

  Indeed they do.

  The machine lowered itself down to one knee and tilted forward upon seeing Spartan's interest. An odd assortment of whistles and grinding sounds emerged from the thing, as panels and sections moved aside from the central torso until the remnants of its ancient host was on display. Unlike others that they had seen, this one was encased inside a transparent metal cylinder that had been fused inside the body of the machine itself.

  “It will not be easy for you to trust me. You have my word, and that of the remaining Twelve, that I will not stop until my brothers are made to pay for what they have done to all of us. The last of their kind must be banished to their domain, and they must be stopped from ever returning.”

  Khan looked at the inside of the machine with great interest. On the outside the robotic structure look impregnable, but from inside it reminded him of images of the human womb, so soft and vulnerable. He even felt a moment of weakness and was tempted to reach in and cause damage, but a look from Spartan stayed his hand.

  “No, not this time,” he said quietly.

  Spartan looked at Marcus, and the man didn't seem surprised.

  "You knew?"

  He grabbed his shoulder, but as his hand reached the man, he twisted aside to avoid it and look back at him. He shook his head angrily.

  "While you've been busy fighting and killing, some of us have been trying to understand what's been happening for the last few decades. You thinks it's a coincidence that we found the Anomaly at the heart of the Confederacy right when we were losing the War?"

  Spartan looked up to the machine and then took a step forward.

  "How long have you been here?"

  The machine closed up its body, and it looked like it might be offended at the way it had been spoken to. Instead, it stretched its limbs as if they were weary from use.

  "The last of the Twelve and our enemies have been scattered through your domain since our exile half a thousand of your years ago. We continued our war among your worlds, built our warrior factories, and sent ships through the Rifts."

  "You built the Anomaly?" asked Khan.

  The machine looked at him for much longer than Spartan. It was hard to detect any emotion from a machine equipped with none of the bodily features required to do so. It was the time it took, and the way it moved its upper body and head to look at him that betrayed an unusual degree of interest in the warrior.

  "One of our factory soldiers," he said in an odd way.

  Spartan looked at Khan and then spoke to the machine.

  "What do you mean?"

  The machine turned its attention back to Spartan, and at the same time large numbers of the prisoners moved down from the gantries. Each of them was curious to see what was going on. A number retained their weapons, and all that were armed kept them trained on the machine.

  "We created your kind in our factory stations and ships. My people are few, and you were constructed to protect us from those that would threaten us. Before the War, our domain was weak, our numbers small. Our bandon are limited by the resources of our own world, and the Biomechs to command them. We crafted your kind to respond to preprogrammed Cores to create a safe buffer area around us while remaining fully autonomous and self-serving; and always remaining loyal to us."

  Khan spat on the ground.

  "You mean you declared war on your friends and occupied their worlds, to keep the last ancient Biomechs safe?"

  The machine didn’t seem offended at the question.

  "Yes and no. Most of the fighting was done by the biologicals. We merely direct them. They do the fighting. Our bandon are used only when direct action is necessary, or where we do not have access to factories and supplies for our biologicals."

  The machine sounded remorseful, and that was unexpected to Spartan and Khan.

  "Not all of us agreed. We joined with the Twelve and refused to take part. For this betrayal, our kin turned on us and committed a great genocide. We tried to warn the Helions and the rest, but they refused our overtures and instead declared the Twelve the servants of the enemy. We were hunted and killed by both sides, and so the last of the Twelve escaped across the stars to what you call the Anomaly. We built a new home there for the living and for machines while our enemies were banished to their own Black Rift. This lasted almost five of your years until the others found us."

  Marcus looked to Spartan.

  "The Biomechs from the Black Rift?"

  Spartan shook his head.

  "You don't say."

  He then looked back at the machine.

  "So they found you, killed most, smashed your tech, and then just vanished?"

  The machine shook its head.

  "No, when they arrived their numbers were also few. With no access to Helios, there is no chance of reinforcement. In less than two years, our Biomech numbers fell to less than twenty. Life is more important to us than anything else, even for the enemy. The last battle took place at the place you call the Anomaly. It was a terrible fight and ended with the destruction of the Rift and the scattering of our ships throughout the stars."

  "That's how you came to be on Mars?" asked Spartan.

  The machine twisted a little to look at him.

  "It is how I came to your star, before your people had conquered your own nearby stars. My ship crashed here, and I was lost to history."

  Spartan shrug
ged.

  "Well, while you've been sleeping down here, your kin have been manipulating my people through icons, prophecy, and technology to make us turn on each other. Why would that be? If they want us dead, why don't they come out and fight us?"

  The machine paused but did not move.

  "In the minutes I have been freed, I have already accessed your data device."

  The machine pointed to Spartan's antiquated datapad.

  "I have absorbed the information on your wars and of my brothers. It is true, they have worked against you, but you misunderstand their strategy. It is not to destroy you. It is to use you as an asset."

  Marcus seemed to be nodding in agreement as it spoke.

  "The enemy wants you strong. They never intended on your destruction, just your obedience. They have planted agents and artifacts for many years to prepare you for their leadership. They will remove your authority and take control in their name. I have seen the evidence from the factories you found on Prometheus to the ruins on Hyperion. Your people have improved themselves and honed your soldiers and ships into powerful weapons. They will be their weapons to subdue the other races."

  Khan laughed at its explanation.

  "Yeah, the trouble is, they already tried that. We fought a war against our own people who had been controlled and supplied by the Biomechs. We beat them. So what can you do now? We don't need your help."

  It took a step closer to Khan and pointed at him.

  "The comet marks their return to Helios. Those not banished through the Black Rift at Helios escaped the exile and have spent the centuries rebuilding their bandon for their return. That is why we have remained hidden, until this day came. The enemy wanted to use you as a weapon, but we, the last of the Twelve can help your people and stop my kin seizing Helios.”

  "The Twelve? Who exactly are they, and how many of you are there?"

  Marcus interrupted.

  "Spartan, the Twelve were one of the old races, named after their twelve worlds. They were the friends and allies of the Biomechs. They intermingled and interbred with them for centuries until the War. The Biomechs turned on them first and exterminated the entire race before moving on to the others. Some of the rebel Biomechs took the sign of the Twelve and fought back. Our research over the last year has confirmed part of this story anyway, as well as the suggestion that some of these rebels escaped into our territory.”

  Spartan smiled.

  “So, that’s what you’ve been doing all this time. You’ve been helping Alliance Intelligence to locate and dig up surviving Biomech rebels. Why?”

  Marcus looked to the machine.

  “Because it was their inscriptions on Hyperion that got us to Orion in the first place.”

  For the first time in many years, Spartan found himself at a loss for words.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ships of the Alliance have a long and proud history, but few could argue that the glory days of humanity could be traced back to the dark days of the Great War. Before the Confederacy, and a long time before the rise of the Alliance, was a period of time where colonies were responsible for their own vessels. Colony sponsored vessels and competition resulted in some of the largest and most elaborate vessels ever constructed. ANS Invincible, as she is now known, was the most famous battleship of the Great War, but far fewer recall the infamous incident concerning TNS Endeavour, the flagship of the Terra Novan fleet. It was the destruction of this ship and the loss of nearly twenty thousand men and women that brought about demands for a ceasefire and the end of the War.

  Ships of the Interstellar Navy

  Teresa watched the tactical overlay of the base and then the movement of the enemy fleet. The two were intrinsically linked together, and she knew too well that if she timed her part in the operation badly, the entire plan would fall apart. The three legs of the base had been hit much harder than she could ever have expected. Captain Rivers approached her, moving quickly from behind the emplacement he’d been using just a few minutes before.

  “Colonel, Commander Osk wishes to redeploy our reserve to form a secondary line for Olik to fall back through.”

  “How hard are they being hit?”

  The Captain’s face was hard to see through his visor, but she could tell from his voice that he was worried.

  “Twenty-five percent casualties, and another Bioray has landed a final assault wave.”

  “I see.”

  Teresa indicated for Osk to approach, and they retired to the safety of the second wall that was only partially completed.

  “Commander, we can’t hold them back at the entrance. We need to pull back to the base of the leg, right over there.”

  Teresa pointed off to her right where the passageway Olik was defending could be seen. Passageway was something of a misnomer though, as it must have been at least thirty meters wide at its vast entrance. A number of Bulldogs had parked in a short line to create a temporary barricade while marines assembled additional defenses right behind them.

  “Olik, Morato here.”

  “Colonel,” he replied over the communications channel.

  Teresa could hear the sound of violence in the background, but none of it stopped Olik from answering her questions.

  “We need another four minutes to ready the defenses. Can you hold?”

  Then came the hesitation, something unusual from Olik and his people.

  “We can hold, but only until they overrun us. There are more coming this way. Sixty seconds at the most.”

  His voice tailed off as more gunfire drowned him out. Teresa spun about to face Captain Rivers and Commander Osk. She knew they needed a few more minutes, but it was already beginning to fall apart.

  Now we have to move to the next stage.

  Teresa connected on the open channel to every officer on Prometheus. Osk watched her, waiting for the word. Finally it came.

  “This is Colonel Morato. Code Hypos Alpha. I repeat, Code Hypos Alpha.”

  She looked at Osk, and the warrior did nothing more than nod in her direction.

  “Understood, Commander, good luck.”

  Osk waited in the central plaza along with Captain Rivers while Teresa ran to the long line of Bulldogs. The side doors of the nearest were already open, and she ran inside to find the crew waiting.

  “To Olik,” was all she needed to say.

  The large wheeled armored personnel carrier squealed as it moved away, and the others followed in a wide line that fill the passageway.

  “Olik, we are almost there. Give the order to your troops. It is time.”

  The journey to Olik took less than twenty seconds, and when they moved to close range, Teresa almost gagged at the sight. Those Red Watch still standing protruded out of the dead like small islands, each surrounded by the dead of the enemy as well as their own dead and wounded. Olik had already pulled back some of his people, and four were dragging wounded warriors from the firing line.

  “Protect them!” Teresa shouted.

  Her Bulldog skidded to a halt and presented its armored flank to the smashed entrance to the base. Gunfire already struck its armor, and the automated turret mount swung about, adding its own heavy gunfire to the battle. Teresa headed to the doorway and ducked back as a cannon round put a hole through the plating.

  “Watch your head!” said the Bulldog’s gunner.

  Teresa nodded and then moved out toward the Jötnar. It was like a scene from hell, with blood, gore, bodies, and smashed armor as far as she could see. If it had been regular marines in this place, the tunnel would have fallen a long time before, but to the Jötnar it was just another fight. Even as they were cut down or wounded, they kept on; and it was working. Only a scattering of the enemy remained, and the bodies littering the place slowed them down further.

  They’re insane, all of them, Teresa thought, watching with an odd mixture of horror and fascination.

  One of the robotic arachnids reach Olik, but he smashed it aside with his armored limbs and then blasted it from l
ess than a meter away as he roared in anger. Another small group of the bipedal warriors climbed over a fallen Jötnar, only to run right into the path to two injured Jötnar. The gunfire tore the enemy soldiers apart, and they then dragged their wounded comrade back to safety.

  We need them out, fast!

  Teresa took aim and fired a burst with her L52, noting with satisfaction as one of the creatures stumbled and fell. It tried to get back up, but another Bulldog tracked its movement and decapitated the thing with a short burst. The other Bulldogs soon arrived and joined in. From within each vehicle came a small fire team of marines, each moving out and keeping low. They went to the fallen Jötnar and helped remove their heavy weights to the waiting vehicles. The entire process took almost a minute, but with the heavy gunfire from the vehicles and the last few Jötnar, they were able to get the last of them on board until only Olik remained. The lone Jötnar waited just three meters from Teresa’s vehicle and continued firing; the muzzle of his gun already glowing red hot from the massive quantity of ammunition he’d fired.

  “Olik, now!” Teresa shouted.

  He looked at her, then back to the Biomech horde continuing to come. A few more bullets bounced off his armor and struck the Bulldog before he dropped the unit and threw himself into the back.

  “Go, go, go!”

  With the screaming of engines and burning rubber, the Bulldogs turned and rushed back as fast as their drivers could safely do so. As quickly as that, the leg that Olik had defended so capably fell, the Biomechs redirecting their efforts into that single location. Teresa watched them climbing through the shattered entrance as they pulled away and turned her attention back to Olik.

  “That was a mighty fine piece of soldiering, Olik.”

  He pulled up his cracked visor and opened his mouth to speak. Thick blood dripped from his lip, yet the smile was impossible to ignore.

  “Is it working?”

  Teresa nodded, as much for her as it was for him.

  “Yes, so far. Now comes the interesting part. Are you ready for it?”