Ghost Soldiers

by Michael G. Thomas

  Table of Contents

  PREFACE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  REGIONAL STAR MAP

  GHOST SOLDIERS

  STAR CRUSADES: MERCENARIES

  By Michael G. Thomas

  Part of the STAR CRUSADES series

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2014 Michael G. Thomas

  Published by Swordworks Books

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  www.starcrusader.com

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  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  PREFACE

  Victory in the Biomech War would serve as the end point for not one, but two distinct species. While the domain of the Biomechs would be shattered, and its resources absorbed into the Alliance, the worlds of the ancient Helion civilisation would be also be lost. The Helions emerged from their own civil war and became the primary battleground in the war, one that would see Helios Prime irradiated, and Spascia shattered by constant fighting. Absorption into the Alliance was the only option, and within nine months of the end of the war, every single Helion colony had voted to join the Alliance. Some have said since the war, the true victors of the war were the humans.

  A Brief History of the Alliance

  Operation Hammer, Spascia City, Helios System

  The six Bulldog armoured personnel vehicles skidded off the half-built highway and onto the construction site. They crashed through discarded scaffolding and heaps of abandoned supplies until reaching the final bend, sliding almost sideways as their oversized wheels fought for grip in the dust. They were now heading in a straight line towards the compound, and already the signs of battle were clear to see.

  “Thirty seconds to the perimeter, get ready,” said Captain Harris.

  The Bulldog bumped up, and he nearly hit his head on the low internal ceiling. The vehicles were large, but like all military vehicles, machinery, weapons, storage, and armour took up the interior space. Little consideration was given to the passengers.

  “Sir, look, the Helions,” said Sergeant Jenkins.

  Captain Harris turned the computer controlled periscope view around and stopped upon finding the military transport.

  “The idiots. Who thought landing a light transport would work? These people are experienced and violent. They were waiting for them.”

  The Sergeant nodded in agreement and looked back into the vehicle. Sitting in rows were the rest of the unit, each identical in amour and weaponry. He then glanced at the Captain, who for some reason was looking at him.

  “Are they ready?”

  Sergeant Jenkins shrugged.

  “They’re trained and equipped, Sir. The Helions are quick learners…”

  He leaned in closer, and again the Bulldog shuddered.

  “…But they are not like us, Sir. I’ve done the best I can with the time we have. We all have.”

  The Captain wanted to be reassured, but he knew the Sergeant spoke the truth. The newly raised Division was one in name only. Many Helions had joined to get away from the never-ending rebuilding efforts, or the bitter life of living on worlds ruined by the Biomechs. He looked back to the mapping unit and checked his position.

  Good, 2nd Platoon is coming in from the North.

  According to the map, his assault force was now converging on the enemy position from two directions, with Helion fighters already conducting diversionary strafing runs on target to the West. He turned his attention to his own objective.

  It looks like a fortress. Hell, it is a goddamned fortress!

  The amount of detail recorded by drone flyovers was incredible. The entire city had been transformed into a citadel in a matter of weeks; the civilian structures hastily converted into walls, towers, and bunkers for the defenders. His attention was drawn away as the gunfire began.

  And so it begins.

  The Captain instinctively checked for the sidearm at his flank. He’d seen the videos of the executions, and his greatest fear still remained of being captured like the others. He would rather end his life himself, than suffer the fate of those poor souls already lost.

  Each Bulldog kicked up a great cloud of dust as they moved into a new formation, forging ahead, two abreast. The cloud announced their arrival, but it did also offer a little extra cover from the barrage of weaponry. As projectiles struck about them, Captain Harris checked the forward view one last time before giving the order.

  “Weapons free!”

  The remotely operated turrets opened fire at once, blazing away at the enemy’s entrenched positions. From the safety of the vehicles, the gunners could track and fire at targets, all without exposing themselves. One tower collapsed from sustained gunfire, and then the two leading Bulldogs were through the first wall. A hidden thermite charge buried under the ground exploded, sending molten material into the underside of the second Bulldog.

  “Watch out!” Sergeant Jenkins yelled.

  The command Bulldog slid to the right to avoid the blast, hit a large mass of masonry, and then flipped over onto its side. By the time it had stopped moving, the entire unit had become scattered. The top hatches opened and arms pulled Captain Harris out of the wreck. His feet hit the ground just as two rockets slammed into a third Bulldog. External defences activated and blasted the warheads with flechette rounds, as its doors opened to disgorge its passengers.

  “Marines, with me!” the Captain ordered.

  With his head still wringing from the crash, he climbed over the low, broken wall, straight into view of the enemy. The Captain was cut down before he even had time to grab his pistol. More marines leapt over the wall and were mercilessly shot to pieces; twelve lay dead and twice as many were wounded. Of those from the command Bulldog, only Sergeant Jenkins remained. He ducked down behind the bodies of two marines and took aim at a machine gun position on a short tower. He fired twice, rolling to the right as fire came in towards him.

  “Get down and return fire!”

  Some of those nearby listened, but most scattered, some returning to the Bulldogs. Others ran ahead into the defenders’ fire. The marines all carried networked mapping and communications gear, but almost none of them used it in the confusion of the battle.

  “Idiots, listen to your commander!”

  He lifted his carbine and scanned the horizon. He could see the enemy, every single one of them dug in. They were well equipped with stolen Helion arms and armour. He could see the defences were well planned, with those hiding behind walls protected by others in higher positions. Out in the open waited six Vanguard suits, the heavily armoured war machines used for direct assault
s. They had been repainted and fitted out with additional armour and a bizarre array of locally made weapons.

  They aren’t just criminals. They have military training and experience behind them.

  A rocket whistled overhead and impacted against a two-storey building. Masonry cascaded down and struck a pair of marines. Both were knocked out cold by the impact. Three others ran over to drag them from the debris.

  “This is Sergeant Jenkins. Dog Platoon is pinned down.”

  Another rocket hit just six metres ahead and showered him with broken masonry. He put his armoured hands over his head and pulled himself down as low as he could go.

  “I repeat…we are...”

  More noise erupted around him as a Hammerhead gunship appeared overhead, its turret blazing away. He looked up and watched with satisfaction as its heavy gun mounts spun around and raked multiple targets as it passed. A single Helion rose to his feet and waved his hands while shouting triumphantly. He was cut apart by cannon fire before Sergeant Jenkins could even open his mouth to speak.

  This is a massacre.

  At least two of the heavy weapon emplacements tracked the aircraft and blasted away. With the attack already well underway, its gunners were in position and ready to defend themselves. With just one strafing run completed, the flyer was hit dozens of times and staggered away, black smoke belching from its engines. Sergeant Jenkins lifted his head a fraction and checked the position of the defenders. He could see over fifty Helion mercenaries, corsairs, bandits, and criminals, and unlike the marines, they were well entrenched.

  “Listen to me!”

  A squad of Helion marines ran past, firing their weapons from the hip. They made a lot of noise and were quickly sent running for cover by the heavy fire of the machine guns. The Sergeant tried to give them covering fire, but from this angle it did little more than remind them of where he was hiding. He pointed to the Helions and jerked his hand back to point at the four operational Bulldogs, each of which was blazing away with its own guns.

  “Get back to the Bulldogs!”

  One of the Helions dropped down next to him and started shouting in his own language. Two more ran past, and one took a large calibre thermal round in the back. The projectile didn’t penetrate but instead remained lodged into the armour, hissing away as it burnt clothing, flesh, and metal alike. The Helion dropped to the ground screaming, and another marine tried to help. Both were hit by a second fusillade of gunfire and killed outright.

  The Helion next to him grabbed at him, so he promptly struck the marine in the head with the butt of his carbine.

  “Get off me!” Sergeant Jenkins yelled.

  He tried to speak again so he struck once more, and this time much harder.

  “Listen up, marine. This fight is over…Over!”

  He then grabbed the Helion by the arm.

  “Now get back, goddamn it…Or I’ll shoot you myself!”

  Sergeant Jenkins was on his feet and back at the Bulldog in less than twenty seconds. By the time he reached it, the mismatched enemy force had inflicted fifteen dead and more than forty casualties in the assault force. He waited next to one of the vehicles, as one by one the survivors clambered inside, and then joined them.

  “Go, go, go!”

  A rapid hammering sound ran down the length of the Bulldog. Small white dots marked where armour-penetrating rounds managed to breach the hull. The remote turret blasted away, but they were now well gone. They accelerated away; leaving many of their dead behind, and an enemy that was still dug in behind improvised defences. Sergeant Jenkins didn’t remove his helmet until they’d travelled three kilometres. As he took it off, he noticed the dark patch inside the armour.

  "Marine, I..."

  One of the other marines lurched forward and grabbed him just as he collapsed to the ground. Blood bubbled from his mouth, and his face was already as white as a sheet. Two marines rolled him over and found two indentations in his armour, one showing a penetration into his back. One of them pointed and leaned back in frustration.

  "Too late."

  The other marine found the hole in the helmet and shook his head. Both were panting from exertion, but the bitterness of the final blow was too much. They looked down at the blood running from the dark wound, perhaps the last shot fired in the failed assault, and the shot that had killed Sergeant Jenkins.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Formed after the bloodbath of the Biomech War, the IAB was a collaboration between the Alliance Navy and Marine Corps, and the Special Weapons Division of the Carthago Trade Consortium. It would be the first line of defence against emerging threats to Alliance territories, and tailor made to overcome heavy resistance at any price. This unique unit would be based away from the human worlds of the Alliance, due to its substantial use of alien personnel and technology, something that was an anathema to the war-weary citizens of the human worlds. It made use of volunteers from all treaty worlds and was funded by a grant paid by every colony, human and alien alike. Its membership would include all races in command, crew, logistics, and combat operations, unlike the strict requirements of the rest of the service. The Marine Corps would continue to provide the manpower to garrison colonies, protect ships, and conduct major military operations. The IAB would only be used where conventional forces were deemed unsuitable.

  The Interstellar Assault Brigade

  Three hours later

  Dropship Fury, Spascia City

  The Jackal dropship shuddered as it dropped out of the upper atmosphere and continued down at hypersonic speeds. The air breathing engines fired up as soon as it left the coldness of space and began to build up power ready for their combat insertion. A narrow vapour trail marked their course as they moved downwards. The dropship was aerodynamically and aesthetically advanced, with smooth surfaces and long, graceful lines. They moved out of orbit and towards the city faster than most missiles.

  “Eight minutes, we’re in the descent curve, Major,” said the pilot.

  Spartan nodded and acknowledged as he waited. He activated his open channel to the other combat units.

  “Keep your eyes open and watch the tactical network. We just lost up to a platoon of marines on the surface.”

  He took a long breath inside the tight confines of his advanced battle armour.

  “We’re the cavalry. We will go in so fast, the enemy will think this is all a dream.”

  He was positioned towards the front of the passenger area, along with two other similarly equipped warriors and the hulk of a Jötnar Assault Suit. All of them were massive, each not far short of three metres in height and armoured from head to toe. While the JAS armour was designed for close-range work, the Maverick suits were general purpose and equipped with numerous combat systems, as well as the vaunted HEC-1 heavy weaponry produced by CTC.

  The three were held in place by large clamps that rose from the ceiling and also lifted out from the ground. Spartan was still free, though, and used those last seconds to move along the line to encourage his warriors. He licked his lips and brought up the current drone footage of the incident for them to see.

  Not good.

  “Take a final look at the prize, gentlemen; this is going to be one hell of a baptism of fire.”

  The small aerial vehicle moved in a slow circle nearly three kilometres away from the target, and that was as close as was possible without being shot down. It showed the compound being used by the gang, as well as the carnage from the botched Helion rescue. There were more than thirty buildings, all partially constructed and now under their control. One in particular pushed up to a height of eleven storeys, and atop it flew the flag of the Spascia Liberation Front. Sergeant Tyler, the career sergeant with a long list of previous battles, grimaced as he watched what was happening.

  “Idiots, Sir. Their attack was a mistake.”

  Next to him was Lieutenant Armstrong. The man was young for a new officer, younger than normal in any case. Spartan recalled his record in the Academy was impeccable, the v
ery essence of the by-the-book officer. Yet for all his knowledge, he’d never seen actual combat. He shook his head as he listened to his older and vastly more experienced sergeant.

  “The attack is understandable, though. This is Spascia, one of their most significant worlds, historically, anyway. With more support they...”

  Spartan shook his head.

  “I don’t think so. We told them to wait it out until experts could be brought in. These criminals are opportunists, relying on the fact that the only real security here are the rookies in the new division.”

  Sergeant Tyler nodded quickly in agreement.

  “I agree. And like we keep telling Command, the 7th are just not ready. They need a year, maybe longer. You can’t create a division in a few months.”

  He was referring to the 7th Marine Division, the brand new Marine Corps unit that had been activated on the planet just a year earlier, and nicknamed the Solar Warriors by High Command. The name was supposed to honour the significance placed by the Helions on their star in daily life, but it had become something of a joke inside the Corps. The majority of its membership was Helion, but with a substantial number of human commissioned and non-commissioned officers mixed in. It was the first Helion division ever raised and would in theory add at least ten thousand marines to the order of battle. The Lieutenant nodded slowly.

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  Spartan had served with enough marines to know he needed to step in. The officer needed confidence, and that wouldn’t happen if he were belittled in front of the unit.

  “So, Lieutenant, what is your assessment of the enemy’s position? Why did the Solar Warriors fail?”

  The young man swallowed, but luckily for him, the armour hid his face from Spartan.

  “Well, Sir, they are too well entrenched for a normal operation, and the SLF know this. Our eyes on the ground show that every day they force those nearby to work for them. Give it another three months, and the whole of Spascia will be under their thumb.”