“Khan, load them up, we are leaving.”
“Yes!” roared the Jötnar with approval.
Even Spartan was unable to hide a smile at the Jötnar’s evident excitement. He closed the airlock behind him and continued to move through the gravity-free part of the ship.
One way or another, we finish this, today.
* * *
General Rivers was as speechless as the rest of the officers as they watched the video feeds recorded by Sergeant Morato and her ASOG troop. The quality of the footage was shaky, but the site of the massive structures, machines, workers and the great glowing orb left little to the imagination. The General examined the information in detail before turning to Teresa.
“What the hell is this place?”
Corporal Dalton Nylund, the ASOG’s technician lifted his hand and stepped forward. He handed over a heavily modified datapad to him.
“This might help. We found engravings at what looked like a ruined temple of some kind. We didn’t have time to examine it, but we did photograph as much as possible. Our equipment estimated most of the ruins are up to two-hundred years old.”
General Rivers examined the first few images before waving over Captain Carlos and two of the Navy officers. The first images showed what looked like an orb, very similar to the one under the dome. This one was in space and surrounded by gantries and structures.
“Looks like the Spacebridge at the Anomaly,” one of them said.
“Yes, but look at the sequence. The first one shows this machine with people stood around it. The next is showing more of those dome buildings being constructed. Is this showing what happened in the past?” asked Captain Carlos.
Teresa shook her head as she relooked at the images.
“I don’t know, but the shape of the site is very odd with the mountains and the dome in the centre.”
An engineer from the Santa Maria examined the imagery and scratched his chin.
“I’ll tell you one thing. That isn’t a mountain range. It’s one mountain that’s had the centre excavated. That’s why it looks more like a crater surrounded by mountains.”
General Rivers nodded in agreement.
“Yes, makes sense. So if that’s right, then this orb must have been buried. They must be here to unearth it for some reason.”
“Maybe,” replied Captain Carlos, but he didn’t sound convinced. ”We’ve only had colonies in this region of space for just over three centuries. Why haven’t we come across anything like this before? It also doesn’t explain what the Biomechs or the Zealots or doing down here.”
“General, there is more,” explained Teresa.
She pressed a button on the video unit they were using, and it flicked instantly to a live feed of the dome at the heart of the enemy base. Unexpectedly, it was still glowing, and flashes of what looked like electricity crackled around it. Hundreds of people hid and cowered around the place as the flashes continued. The room fell silent as those present looked on in surprise. General Rivers spoke quietly but continued watching the feed.
“Good work, Sergeant, this is exactly what we need. Do you have any idea what this thing is designed for, though?”
“No, Sir. We discussed it on the return here. Our thoughts are it could be anything from a massive signal generator to some kind of artificial intelligence hub.”
“Like the one on Terra Nova?” he asked rhetorically.
“Maybe,” Teresa replied. “But one thing I do know, I’ve never seen machines like that before, apart from those that came aboard the Santa Maria. They seem unique to this planet.”
She pointed to the dome.
“My gut instinct tells me this area, the machines, the Zealots and the Biomechs are all linked. Maybe the survivors from the Great War five decades ago hid down here and found the site?”
General Rivers seemed intrigued at the idea.
“Interesting. The Zealots have always been the right hand of somebody else. We thought it was Typhon and his brothers, but to do the things they’ve done they must have had help.”
He turned and looked to the other officers assembled in the cramped room.
“This changes things considerably. Not only is it our duty to fight and survive, but we also need to understand what is happening here. Our mission must change to the capture and study of this site, no matter the cost. I want anybody with historical, engineering and scientific knowledge to go over the data recovered by Sergeant Morato’s team, and see what you can piece together. In the meantime, the rest of us need to find a way to get a signal away from this planet. We need help, now more than ever.”
There was no more time for discussion as the compound’s klaxons blared. It was loud and painful to hear, filling each of them with dread. They had been installed for emergency use only, as the noise was bound to draw the unwelcome attention of the hostile inhabitants of the jungle. The makeshift command centre emptied quickly as they all rushed to their allotted positions. As some of the crew, left General Rivers grabbed two of them.
“No, you both stay. I need answers from this information, and fast.”
He then took one last glance at the feed and moved to Teresa who was already at the doorway and checking her weapon.
“Sergeant, did they follow you back here?” he asked.
Heavy gunfire ripped through the base, and before she had time to answer, the two were out and moving into firing positions along the perimeter. Teresa was still in her filthy PDS suit, whereas the General wore just the chest part of his armour.
“No way, Sir, we covered our tracks and followed a zigzag course. They must have tracked electronic signatures or something else. He nodded in agreement but was well aware that even the ASOG troopers were not ghosts.
“Get your people to the walls, Sergeant. We have need of your skills once more.”
She saluted and moved out, indicating for her comrades to follow her to the barricades. Light was already starting to fade in the camp, and with the never-moving mist, it was hard to see what was happening before the enemy reached point-blank range. Teresa climbed the crudely constructed ladder and rested her carbine on top of the wall facing the direction of the enemy.
“Gods! she exclaimed.
The terrifying image of scores of Zealots running foolhardily towards their wooden defences almost made her stagger and fall from the crude raised position. She checked the safety on her weapon and joined in with the rest of the defenders. Concentrated rifle and carbine gunfire tore them apart before they made it even halfway from the tree line to the fences. But the Zealots weren’t the problem, and even as she helped in gunning them down, she wondered if they were being driven to the barricades rather than choosing to attack. Out of the mist, and behind the Zealots, appeared the great metallic machines. The mere sight of them froze her in mid movement. It was hard to make out their exact shape, but the size and moving limbs confirmed to her they were the same or certainly very similar to the large four-legged machines at the dome. They made slow progress but inched towards the base like a pair of armoured beetles, their powered metal limbs ripping foliage and woodland apart. From deep within their bodies came that terrible screaming sound, and she spotted at least three crewmen fall from the wall in terror at the noise.
They must have found our trail. We spent hours covering it. It just doesn’t make sense.
A long burst of gunfire from the machine to the right quickly snapped her out of her daze, however, especially when the blast ripped open a hole in the barricade and cut down two marines in a burst of blood and metal.
“Kill them!” she screamed, and with one deft movement selected the full-power setting on her carbine. She’d rarely used the weapon on that setting before, but something about those alien-looking machines told her she’d need every ounce of firepower at her disposal. She took aim at the nearest and hit it with a single triple-round blast. Unlike the rounds fired from the other firearms, the carbine’s massive advantage in muzzle-velocity, combined with the armour-penetrat
ing slug, tore fist-sized holes from the machine. The battle for the compound had begun.
* * *
Threat alarms blasted through the interior of the shuttle as ground-based sensors tried to identify the three craft. Their rapid descent through the atmosphere would have been relatively easy to detect, but the craft had been specially designed to give off no obvious signatures. Spartan just hoped they would be picked up as meteors or even better, missed completely. Either way, they were almost past this stage of their descent, and the design and build of the shuttles would make them all but impossible to detect as they dropped down to their selected landing zones.
“Lieutenant, what’s our safe distance with these shuttles?” he asked the pilot through his Vanguard armour’s comms unit.
The man turned back briefly to answer.
“About forty to fifty klicks in a straight line. Once we’re down to the surface, we can stay below most active scanners to nearly ten kilometres. After that...” he shrugged.
Spartan nodded and looked to the other seven occupants of the shuttle. He’d split up the expertise on each craft so that there was a degree of redundancy in the landing. There was no sense having all the tech experts in one shuttle and all the assault troops in the other. He’d taken Khan, Kowalski, two Vanguards from his old unit and three of the most experienced marines on the Santa Cruz. The Vanguards were of a similar size and build to Khan, but it was the mechanics, power systems and armour that provided the muscle for the marines as opposed to Khan’s physique and brute strength. Unlike the PDS armour worn by the marines, this much larger suit was a development of the much older and more primitive Combat Engineer Suits. It was powered and included thickened protection, integral blades and firearms. The Vanguards had proved themselves on multiple occasions during the heavy close quarter combat on a multitude of colonies.
“Khan, you ready for this?” he called over to his friend.
The Jötnar simply grinned in response. One thing Spartan could always count on was the brutality and enjoyment of combat by him and his people. The Jötnar were easily the equal of the Vanguards and capable of taking on multiple Zealots or even another Biomech one-on-one.
“Sir, my scanners are picking up the coded signal from the target. It is phasing out as expected.”
“Good,” he replied.
The pilot returned to his own screen but continued speaking as he made adjustments. His co-pilot checked the ground below them with advanced passive imaging gear, but even this low, the thick atmosphere and mist made it very difficult.
“We’ll be under their radar in just over a minute, and then it’s the quick burn to the landing site.”
Spartan hoped beyond hope they weren’t too late. He was well aware that just surviving on a foreign world was hard enough without potential enemies to account for.
“Any sign of survivors yet?”
“Nothing yet, I am picking up a tracking station near the suspected weapon sites. It’s good gear but not likely to pick us up now at this height. There’s something else as well.”
Spartan swallowed, expecting the worst.
“What?”
“It’s the power levels. They are off the charts. There’s no way they need this level of energy to power up their tracking or weapon systems. There’s something else down there, Sir.”
“Yes, I don’t doubt it. Just get us near the signal source as quickly and quietly as you can.”
The man nodded and carried on with the low-level flight procedures. From the small windows, Spartan could see very little except the thick haze and water droplets covering the toughened glass. He turned and looked back to his team.
“Don’t forget the air. Initial assessments show a higher than normal level of nitrogen. It’s breathable, but only just. Use the rebreather on your suits as much as possible.”
Khan laughed.
“What?” Spartan asked.
“Where’s my rebreather?” he asked.
Spartan looked at his friend and realised he’d completely forgotten to ensure the Jötnar were equipped for the atmospheric conditions below.
Damn it! He thought angrily.
“Don’t worry, we’ll manage,” he said without a second’s doubt.
The craft bumped and jostled as they settled into a low-level course over the treetops. Both the craft and the pilots were the best the Alliance had to offer, and even Khan seemed impressed at their skill. It didn’t take long for them to cover the distance to the landing zone. Spartan spotted the dark grey shapes of the two craft following behind them.
“Twenty seconds, we’re coming in over the river. I’ll put her down in that clearing.” said the pilot.
No sooner had they started the landing procedure than the starboard side windows lit up bright yellow. A light patter like rain ran along the body, and then they were within a hundred metres.
“Sensors picking up signs of movement, heat signature...what the!”
The shuttle shook as the pilot tried to manoeuvre, but it was much too late. Something heavy struck one of the movable engine pods, and the shuttle was heading down. It was a testament to the skill of the pilots that they managed to bring it down in one piece. They struck the riverbank hard and came to a stop in the mud. The doors hissed open, and as per usual, Spartan was up and out. Instead of stepping into a crash site, he found himself in the middle of a battle.
What have they gotten themselves into?
Directly in front of him was a very basic wooden fortification that must have been about the size of a sports field. Three of its sides faced the thick jungle while a much lower palisade protected the water edge. Inside were stacks of boxes, tents, shelters and the stripped remains of what looked like an escape shuttle or lifeboat. Scores of people were positioned on or near the high wooden walls and were blasting away with Alliance issue firearms. Khan stepped beside him, and the other five spread out into a firing line, scanning for signs of hostiles. Sergeant Kowalski moved to the cockpit to check on the status of the pilots. Khan looked briefly at the sounds of battle then back to Spartan.
“Looks like we came to the right place!” said a happy sounding Khan.
“Yeah, come on, we need to find out what the hell is going on here.”
They sprinted further into the compound and skirted off to the left where a group of Navy crew were carrying a box of ammunition to the fence. One of them spotted him and stopped.
“Sir? Lieutenant Spartan?” he asked incredulously.
Spartan had no idea who he was, but they were obviously friendly. The uniform was of the old Confederate Navy pattern but that meant little. He was only too familiar with the problems of units, uniforms and logistics since the end of the War and the forming of the Alliance. He reached out and grabbed the shaken looking man by the shoulder.
“Who is in charge here?” he asked.
The man looked up to the barricade and the silhouetted shapes above them. Flashes of orange and yellow light lit them from behind. As Spartan watched, a stream of bullets rip through the wood and cut down a marine who tumbled back and to the floor.
“The General...General Rivers,” he stuttered.
Rivers!
“To me!” he shouted and ran to a pile of crates and boxes that gave access to the fighting platform. He couldn’t make it all the way to the top, as his bulk in the Vanguard armour and the weak construction of the platform and the barrier, would have easily tossed him back to the ground. He reached a high enough vantage point so that he could see out and towards the commotion outside the compound. Hordes of people were rushing to the defences but being cut to ribbons by accurate rifle fire. It was the sight of the mechanical beasts that shook him.
“What the hell is that?” he shouted while simultaneously lifting his right arm. Built into his suit was a pair of linked L48 rifles, the standard weapon used by most marines. It fired a standard 12.7mm round equipped with an integral proximity mode on the bullets. The rifle normally carried a magazine of twenty rounds of varia
ble operation ammunition. These state of the art bullets could be set to explode at a certain distance or when they reached the proximity of their target. He aimed at the nearest of the machines and opened fire. Both barrel flashes away and the gyrostalisied mount gave him near perfect sustained fire accuracy. The rounds embedded into the metal frame and then exploded. Each of the rounds tore chunks of metal and wiring away, yet still the machines pushed onwards.
“Spartan?” shouted a familiar voice.
He fired a few more shots before spotting a dark shape rushing along the parapet towards him. His gut reaction was self-defence, and he swung out his left arm and activated the dual weapons. Luckily Khan grabbed the metal of his arm and pushed it up, so the rounds fired away harmlessly and avoided cutting the now visible shape of Teresa into a bloodied corpse.
“Watch your aim!” he growled and then joined the others on the firing line.
“Teresa?” replied Spartan in surprise. He’d hoped, even prayed she had been there, but it had never occurred to him he would find her so fast and in such a violent and dangerous situation. She leapt forward and landed just a metre away. They were both in armoured suits, and all she could do was open her visor and smile at him.
“I knew you’d come.”
Spartan nodded grimly.
“Yeah, our timing is always great, isn’t it? What’s happening?”
Teresa looked back to where she had been stood. The armoured shape of General Rivers and a handful of marines fired away into the enemy forces. Alongside them was the bullet-ridden form of an improvised Alliance flag. The General looked over and saw Khan and then Spartan below him. He turned and lifted his visor.
“About damned time you got here! Tell me you brought friends?”
As if in answer to his question, the two additional shuttles flew overhead. Each performed a quick circle while the now extended pintle mounted coilguns blazed away at the enemy machines. The nearest came in to land while the final shuttle performed a final strafing run before setting down in a space being hastily cleared by Navy crewmen.
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 80
