Ghost Soldiers

by Michael G. Thomas

  "The imagery from the vessel and news of the fighting has changed things. In the last hour we've had contact from all the major players."

  "Telling us what, exactly?"

  The General shook his head and held up his secpad in front of Gun. It showed imagery of alien representatives.

  "The Helions, T'Kari, and Khreenk are all demanding information. They want to know what we've discovered. Even the Klithi have contacted us. They are acting suspiciously."

  "So? What is it to them?"

  Mr Walker rubbed his chin as the Captain explained.

  "Two things. First, they see it as a major threat. They are already mobilising military assets to deal with the derelict if it comes near their territory. So far we've located more than fifty ships, including six Klithi traveller ships on the move. They are terrified of this thing, and they want to keep it away from their sectors."

  "And the second?"

  Captain Wilson looked to Mr Walker to answer that.

  "They are threatening to mine their Spacebridges to the Helios Nexus."

  Gun leaned back in surprise.

  "What? Are they insane? Without the Nexus they will be unable to trade, travel, or communicate outside of their own systems. We won't be able to send in ships to help them if they get into trouble either."

  Knaprig looked even less impressed than Gun.

  "They are that scared of this thing, a rotten derelict, bereft of life? There is a good argument for mass mobilisation in the Alliance. In five years we could have every colony under our control."

  Mr Walker's eyebrows lifted in stunned surprise.

  "Just saying," added Knaprig.

  The executive shook his head.

  "Gun. Their actions speak louder much more than their words. My contacts on Helios Prime are telling me that all of them would rather cut off contact with the rest of us for now, than deal with something from the lost Trusska worlds. The Helion Nexus could be turned into a backwater if they block access."

  Knaprig spat on the floor.

  "Cowards. They want us to deal with it while they cower under their beds. If it wasn't for us, there would be no Helios."

  Captain Wilson first turned to the General, and after receiving the nod turned back to Gun.

  "A backchannel request has come in from Admiral Churchill. He wants to know if the IAB is able to send in reinforcements to assist. If not, he will send in his own assault team."

  Gun noticed the expression on Mr Walker's face. It was one of bemusement and also calmer than he would have expected. It was almost as if the man thought it was no great rush.

  "Problem, Mr Walker?"

  The man smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was something much darker, and evidently more sinister.

  "Not a problem, per se. Just that we have a window of nearly three weeks to get a plan into action. A plan to stop this derelict reaching inhabited space, and a secondary goal of protecting the IAB, and by association, CTC."

  General Black's eyes tightened as he listened, and Gun's expression changed at just the same time. Gun spoke first, even as his face began to contort, no longer able to listen to the executive.

  "No, we do not have three weeks. We do not even have one week! Spartan, Khan, and the rest of them need our help."

  He turned to leave and then looked back. His glare couldn't have been sterner.

  "What are you thinking?" Mr Walker asked, "We have no operational ships, and Spartan took all active and equipped marines for the operation."

  Gun considered his options for a few seconds.

  "Titan is damaged but partially operational. I'll have her through the Black Rift by the end of today."

  Mr Walker shook his head.

  "The ship is in no state to leave, and her operations level is smashed. You'll have no marines, Grunts, or tech. What good will a warship be, if all you can do is bombard the derelict? You'll kill whoever is left on board."

  General Black looked as though he agreed with Gun.

  "Yes, we can make this work. We have to."

  He lifted the back of his hand to his face and nodded slowly, considering their options.

  "2nd and 3rd Company are units in name only. The transfers from Hyperion are still being familiarised with the hardware, and we've got five more companies to recruit, train, and equip. It will be another month before both battalions are at a combat strength of five hundred each, and that’s assuming the Helion and Khreenk volunteers can do the job.”

  He then lifted his head at least three centimetres taller as he came to an epiphany. Gun looked at him, and both said the exactly same word at the same time.

  "Thegns, we’ll use the Thegns."

  Gun barred his teeth in amusement.

  "The Alliance will not go for it."

  General Black shrugged.

  "What they don't know won't kill them. I can have crew transferred from the engineering detail to get to work on Titan. She doesn't need to be fully combat effective, just functional. We can post Thegns on board for security. It could work."

  Knaprig had been quiet for some time, but now he knew exactly what he had to do.

  "Thegns won't be enough. If Spartan and Khan run into trouble, they'll be needing something more than a few hundred Thegns."

  Gun looked to his friend.

  "What are you suggesting?"

  Knaprig positively beamed back at him.

  "Osk will help us. Give me twenty-four hours, and I'll have her send a company of the Red Watch through to T'Karan from Prometheus."

  Gun looked to his comrade.

  "She'll go for this?"

  Knaprig grinned, his mouth open wide, his teeth bared.

  "How could she refuse me?"

  Gun began to laugh.

  "A company of Jötnar warriors, all looking for a fight? It hardly seems fair! Tell Osk to be ready. We'll be there in twenty-four hours, if I have to push the ship there myself."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Special Weapons Division was a private entity, created by veterans of the Biomech War. With financing supplied by the monolithic Carthago Trade Consortium, they established the premier weapons and equipment development and production facility at Taxxu. This distant territory was the perfect place from which to base such an operation, and under the protection of the Alliance, and with the assistance of the surviving Twelve; some of the greatest technology discoveries of the century would be made. Within a decade the Taxxu factory and shipyard were self-sufficient and providing the best research opportunities in the Alliance, as well as substantial new markets for CTC to exploit.

  Private Security Directory

  Dropship Fury, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan

  Spartan watched the formation as the Jackal dropships accelerated towards their target. Though clamped securely inside the craft, his linked sensor suite gave him a perfect view of what was happening outside. The sleek looking craft had already extended their swing-wings, and their mixture of guns and missiles had been deployed ready for use. It was a high-speed dash from the abandoned IAS Euryale and directly towards the slowly approaching shape of the alien vessel.

  "Here we go."

  The craft banked hard and back into formation with the other craft.

  "Each squad has an allocated landing ground. All of them will be revealed when we reach the point of no return. When you reach the derelict, get inside and take your preselected positions."

  He looked to Khan and found his friend motionless, quiet and waiting.

  "Our ship is powerless and without life-support. Our one and only chance for survival is to seize this vessel and to hold it until relieved. There is no chance of withdrawal. Our future will be decided on that ship. So...you will fight, and you will hold whatever ground you secure, no matter what happens."

  Spartan knew what he was asking them to do, but he also knew deep down that dying from lack of air was a cruel and humiliating way to go. He'd imagined and witnessed his own death in many ways, but sitting down and waiting wasn't
one of them. Again he looked to Khan. He seemed to have twisted his torso a little even though the clamps made it almost impossible to move.

  "We will win, or we will die on our feet. Good hunting."

  The eight Jackal dropships travelled in a dispersed formation. Four were heavily laden with warriors, equipment, and crew. The others were unmanned and loaded with a full arsenal of missiles and decoys. To anybody else they all looked the same, but Spartan was looking at using the unoccupied Jackals as armed decoys. Two of them moved slightly ahead of the other six, their weapon systems already deployed.

  The occupied Jackals were packed to bursting, so much so that if the craft were required to make a planetary descent, they would be too heavy for a safe landing. Every single occupant was armoured, from the heavy gear of the Mavericks and Jötnar through to the IAB marines in their M-3 tactical body armour. The Thegns were in their natural protection plating, and Captain Delatorre wore naval issue PDS armour. Spartan's eyes were closed as they passed the halfway point, all his attention focussed on what he'd seen on their last encounter.

  It has to be different this time.

  The entity, as Khan has described it was a unique enemy, one he almost relished facing. He guessed it was at least the size of Khan, and more likely up to double his size. Strength was hard to gauge, due to the use of the Grunts, but he suspected it was as strong as it was massive. The difficulty in seeing it could only be down to technology. Then there were the smaller foes, ones that had detached from its body. Its ability to control computers and advanced technology was something new and deadly, and Spartan almost found that exhilarating.

  I want this thing, and I want it dead. Not a step back this time.

  Spartan's nostrils flared as he imagined what he would do when standing in front of it face-to-face, instead of via remote robotics and technology. A brief pulse of excitement was short lived when he remembered those he was bringing along with him. Most were trained and experienced warriors, but there were also the crew of IAS Euryale. There was enough mixed weaponry on board to arm them all, but much had been lost aboard the derelict. Ideally, they would all be wearing the new armour and carrying XC1 carbines. Now they were forced to use a mixture of carbines and coilguns, with some forced to take the emergency thermal shotguns from the lockers on the ship.

  We lost a lot out there, more than should have been possible.

  Spartan regretted landing with such a large force of Grunts now. With hindsight, it would have been better to land no more than a single platoon. There had been a desperate need to find survivors, though, and time was the critical factor. There was no way of knowing of this entity, and its ability to control data and technology so effectively. Even so, the price was heavy; two platoons of Grunts, fifty-five incredibly expensive robotic units gone, along with the irreplaceable XC1 carbines. It was a disaster, and one caused almost certainly due to the enemy's ability to control, breach, or override control information.

  The Jackal felt as though it was dead in space, but all of them knew otherwise. Until the manoeuvring thrusters or main engine were used again, the craft would continue drifting through space, its occupants moving at the exact same velocity and in the same direction. Spartan watched the ever-receding view of IAS Euryale as it continued to shrink in size.

  Will we see her again?

  With little more than a movement of his retina, he selected the previous feed and moved to the forward view direct from the nose of the dropship. The imagery was crystal clear and provided a perfect view of the derelict. Even at this long distance, the dark shape was clear to the eye. This wasn't due to it suddenly gaining a vast amount of lighting, but the computer's digital overlay that transposed the data from the reconnaissance scans earlier in the battle. The combined data gave a detailed, full colour view of something that was now pitch black, save for the remaining drones lighting key parts of its hull.

  "Spartan, we're a minute away, are you ready?"

  It was Kanjana, his loyal friend since the end of the war, and one of the most proficient engineers and pilots he'd ever come across. Though much younger than him, they had formed a bond little different to father and daughter as they worked together in Taxxu, both of them exiles from their old lives.

  Spartan's eyes ran along the list of indicators for the Maverick suit. Usually, he would be receiving a constant stream of data from the ship, but not now. On his orders, the officers of the entire company were avoiding anything more than audio communication. Direct networking had been disabled to avoid a repeat of the data infiltration on the previous operation.

  "Yeah, I'm good. Keep on track."

  "Understood."

  He then sent requests to the commanders. There were three platoons of

  IAB marines on this operation, each led by an experienced lieutenant. Seventy-two elite marines, and with the will to fight and to win. They would normally operate using the combat Grunts in the field, but every marine was also expected to serve in conventional amour when required. The standard deployment options to the IAB were varied, from a full Grunt assault force supported by Maverick suited officers, as well as a dozen picked marines wearing the heavy armour. They could just as easily fight as a fully conventional force in PDS armour. Spartan, Khan, and the others debated the strengths of each all the time, but it would appear that right now, circumstances would dictate their disposition.

  Spartan was well aware there were also the crew of IAS Euryale, and the technicians and engineers operating and maintaining the weapons and technology. Though well trained, they were not as capable in combat as his marines. The last thing Spartan wanted was to see these units forced to fighting the entity. This, perhaps more than anything, ensured his resolve in the operation was strong. Only after receiving acknowledgements did he look to those he'd brought with him. Khan was opposite on the other side of the dropship; next to him Lieutenant Armstrong and Sergeant Tyler, both wearing the battered crimson Maverick armour they'd used on Spascia.

  "You all ready?"

  The men lifted their arms slightly to acknowledge. With the neck-less design, there was no way to actually give a signal using the head anymore. Spartan then looked to his old comrade, Khan.

  "Well, old friend. Just like old times."

  Khan fidgeted.

  "Yeah, except this time we have no idea what it is we're up against."

  Lieutenant Armstrong had been waiting impatiently for the specific data on the mission, and now he simply could not wait. Though much more junior than Khan or Spartan, he was the commander of 1st Platoon; technically no different to the other platoons in the company, the reality was somewhat different. 1st Company generally accompanied the commanders in the field, operating in many ways like a personal bodyguard to Spartan, or whoever else was leading them in the field.

  "Sir, I just hope the distraction plan works."

  Spartan turned his head inside the armour to look at the man. He could sense the nerves in his voice and perfectly understood them. They were advancing on a massive vessel, with just eight dropships and no backup plan.

  "Major, if the plan doesn't work. Well, we're going to be a smear across the top of that derelict. I...the...the firepower it put out when Euryale engaged the thing. It..."

  He sighed.

  "...and we're going to be stuck out here with nowhere to hide."

  Spartan laughed.

  "That's not where we're going, Lieutenant. We're going to do what we do best."

  Khan grunted in agreement.

  "Euryale is dead to us, and so is space. So don't worry about things we cannot change."

  The words were ones Spartan had heard many times before. Khan's people were more than just the strongest and most capable warriors in the Alliance, they were also some of the more sombre people he'd ever met. Their fatalist attitude to life could be almost depressing to many people, but after prolonged exposure, many finally realised the Jötnar were not so much resigned to death, but more they were comfortable with it; and keen to enjoy
what life they had remaining. It was one of the things that made them such desirable combat troops. Khan lifted his arms and pointed off to the side of the dropship.

  "That derelict is our new home, and nothing will stop us short of a legion of Biomechs. And even then, they would do little to keep us occupied."

  Spartan was glad the young officer couldn't see his face because Khan's words were making him grin uncontrollably. Unlike the Lieutenant, he had reconciled with death a long time ago, and since losing Teresa and Jack, he found it easier to put himself into danger.

  Good job, Khan. Scare the living hell out of our people before the mission begins.

  It then seemed as though Khan might have heard his unspoken words.

  "We have the best people for this job, and if we hadn't lost the link with the Grunts, we'd have won last time around. You saw what happened; Spartan had his hands on that thing."

  Khan pushed his armoured fists together.

  "When I find it, I'll teach it a thing or two about violence."

  Spartan let Khan continue with his boasting. The effect on the other marines was clearly positive, and every few words one of them would cheer or say something encouraging. It was a tense time, and with the marines clamped inside their cylinders it could be a worrying time. The smoked glass fronts were still open, so they could all see each other right now, but that wouldn't last, and Spartan needed them ready and able when the time came.

  Looking good.

  He moved through the tagged landing zones and checked his for what must have been the fifth time. They'd not had long to plan this, but he was satisfied with the decisions made. The location of the landing zones for the assault parties were highlighted, and their specific one flashed in green. Spartan noticed Khan had stopped speaking for a moment.

  "Marines, as you can see, we're hitting the derelict from one direction. There will be no dispersed landing this time. I want concentration of force. Each of you will protect your comrades, shoulder-to-shoulder, with your feet firmly on this derelict."

  Khan grunted as he looked at the landing locations on the overlay inside his armour.