Ghost Soldiers

by Michael G. Thomas

  "Watch...out...that..."

  The bulk of the blast struck the nearest Maverick head on. Flashes erupted from head to toe, and then it exploded in sickening blast. The intensity of the energy was like a powerful explosion coming from inside the armour, and sent charred flesh and molten metal in all directions. Many of the other IAB marines took the full brunt of the impact.

  Tendrils of energy lashed out like limbs to hit any of those nearby. One whipped across Spartan's chest as his fists struck the creature. Emergency alarms activated, and his vision vanished for a moment; then he was face down and sliding cross the floor.

  He was moving with such speed as if he'd been knocked back by a piece of artillery. He hit the wall hard; his vision blurred for several seconds, and his hearing became confused. With power temporarily gone, Spartan was forced to use his own muscles to roll over. It wasn't easy, but Spartan was as strong as he was angry. By the time he'd rolled over, his systems had restarted, and the power unit began feeding electricity to the motor comportments. His senses were already returning to normal.

  Where the hell is it?

  He lifted to one knee and looked left and then right. The lights were still almost gone, and because of the dust and smoke, the interior almost impossible to see properly. Powerful lamps on all of their suits cast thick beams that extended out until finally being beaten off by the thickness of the dust.

  On your feet!

  Spartan was up but had no idea how long he'd been out. He assumed it had been hours, but based on the carnage, it could have as likely been an hour. The fighting might have been over until he spotted more of his creations, the robotic Grunts he had helped build to avoid putting the lives of men and women in the front-line.

  Spartan extended his right arm and shook his head bitterly, blasting them with the pair of L52 coilguns. These weapons were no longer the most advanced in production, but they were still as deadly as the day they'd become the primary weapon of the Alliance Marine Corps. Two of them were cut apart by the time is HEC-1 Cannon was charged up and ready.

  "Khan, the creature?"

  A single JAS armoured warrior lifted a Grunt above his head and hurled it at the wall. The fighting machine hit with a crash and slid to the ground, its limbs buckled and heavily damaged. Before it could stand, it was hit by a fusillade of small arms fire. Khan then turned and Spartan could see there were lacerations and puncture holes throughout the plating on his armour.

  "It smashed its way through there. I tore off a limb, and Sergeant Tyler put a thermite charge on its torso. We hurt it bad, really bad."

  Khan pointed with his right hand at one of the recently sealed bulkhead blast doors. The metal was broken and twisted, and still crackling with blue energy. A single fireteam of IAB marines was already climbing through when he called out to them.

  "No, stay here, stay together."

  One looked back, nodded to Spartan, and then helped the others back through. Spartan shook his head in frustration as they moved back to the position they had been defending so steadfastly.

  "We cannot afford to take chances with this thing. Dig in. We need to get everybody left back here."

  The marines spread out further behind them, using the short moment of respite to improve their positions. It was only for a few seconds, and then, as before, more of the Grunts came in. Spartan guessed they must have taken care of almost a full platoon of them so far, a major feat in itself. Khan moved to the centre, where a single squad was overturning tables and boxes to produce a long line that faced off against the two breached doorways into the derelict. He stopped, looked up, and then took aim.

  "More of them."

  Another dozen machines dropped in around them, in what would be the final and bloodiest assault on their position. Dozens of IAB marines were now dead or wounded from the bloody battle. Khan stayed in his position at the centre of the line and directed the gunfire, as the machines dropped in all around them and threatened to overwhelm the defenders.

  "Heavies, to me."

  The large shapes of the Mavericks moved to support him, and Spartan did the same. By moving into the centre of the room, they produced a solid block that could spit out bullets at a prodigious rate. A handful of the Grunts managed to get past the flank and ran into a squad of marines tending a wounded comrade. Two were butchered on the spot, and the others scattered, creating a gap leading right back to the passageways, and ultimately to the landing bay and dropships.

  "Get down!"

  The two marines hit the ground as Spartan fired a double-shot from his HEC-1 cannon. The projectile punched through the back of the first Grunt and hit the second in the upper chest. They staggered out of control and fell to the ground, leaving just three more who were now at the open, arched blast doors. They would have made it through, if it hadn't been for the mixed group of nine Thegns that ran right into them. Seeing the potential breakthrough, they rushed at the machines, firing their thermal shotguns and carbines as they ran. Four were cut down by return fire, but not one gave ground, and the breach was sealed with the broken bodies of both sides. The clash of battle vanished as quickly as it had arrived, but now with bodies and machinery lying strewn across the floor.

  "Good work, people. We've held onto our ground."

  He pointed to one of the holes in the floor.

  "Engineering teams, seal the panels."

  Marines with cutting and welding gear moved into position. Maverick suited marines stood over them, shielding those working with their own bodies and metal plating. At the same time they continued blazing away, filling the dust filled canteen with super-heated plasma, hardened metal slugs, and fragmentation projectiles.

  The battle was over in less than half an hour, but for those involved it felt more like an entire day. Confusion was so great, Spartan didn't even truly realise they were fighting their own robotic Grunts until they'd destroyed or disabled every single one of their attackers. The attack was short, bloody, and left more than another dozen dead marines before it was over.

  As the gunfire died down, Khan grabbed one of the fallen machines and threw it over so it landed at the feet of Spartan. He bent down and touched the metal before shaking his head, clearly angry.

  "These are our machines. How is this possible? We've just lost more than twenty to these things, maybe a lot more."

  The shape was obviously a Grunt, but already there were changes. The access panel had been removed and in its place a beautifully fused plate that blocked access. The top of the head section was fitted with a small bump around the size of a man's hand.

  Antenna maybe?

  He then looked down to the arms and found small punch tips fitted to the hands. They were just a few centimetres long, but sharp and made of a highly dense alloy. He looked down and noted the points on his armour where the Grunts had actually breached the outer plating more than a dozen times.

  That thing had access to them for a matter of hours. How could it do this?

  "The creature, it is using energy from the ship to convert components to serve its will. You saw its body, Khan. Plating from our machines, as well as Byotai fighting machines surrounded the armour.

  Khan sighed, as though a great weight had just been lifted from his mind.

  "The creature, it can control electronics, equipment, and even energy. In that case it is probably healing itself right now."

  Spartan nodded, though none would be able to tell from the outside of his armour.

  "Exactly. And when it's healed enough, it will be back, and probably with more of the kit we've lost."

  Half a dozen Thegns rushed in through the other doorway, the one they had blasted through originally. Two marines trained their guns on them as they entered, with Five-Seven at the front and Captain Delatorre beside him. Several of them had sustained deep lacerations, and Five-Seven bore a bandage around an arm wound.

  "What is it?" Spartan asked.

  Five-Seven stopped and saluted before answering. Captain Delatorre started first
, his voice almost shaking with the sheer horror at what they must have witnessed.

  "The thing, the creature. It broke into the landing bay and tried to reach the dropships. I'd already ordered Lieutenant Kipling to send help your way when it came in."

  He panted, finding every single word a strain to get out. He shook his head with each word and lifted his hand to cover his mouth.

  "I should have blasted the landing bay, right then. Half of the platoon is gone, most of the Thegns. The creature was badly damaged, and it was trying to reach the dropships, but two Mavericks blocked the entrance."

  His voice went up an octave, and he then twisted about, retching. Luckily his helmet was open as he vomited onto the ground. Five-Seven handed him a canteen, and he gurgled it before spitting out the foulness from his mouth.

  "...and Lieutenant Kipling?"

  Captain Delatorre coughed three times, and his voice broke slightly so that it became almost impossible to understand. After another quick swig of water, he began to compose himself.

  "The creature took everything we fired, like it was nothing. I saw armour blasted off its torso, but it's like peeling an onion. Beneath every layer is more and more armour. It finally reached the dropships; the Mavericks held it there. It killed them both, but their bodies blocked the doorway, and the rest of us went at it with everything we had."

  He wiped his brow, as the images must have flashed back, becoming real once more.

  "I saw Thegns ripped in half, and Mavericks electrocuted inside their armour. Lieutenant Kipling didn't bother using firearms. It was like he knew how to fight it. He took three of them, all in Maverick armour, and fought it in hand-to-hand combat. They tore off a limb when it sent a blue energy blast and vanished, but not before damaging the exit blast doors from the hangar. Whatever you did to it out here worked, it was leaking fluid all over the place, and the noise."

  He shook his head.

  "If it were anything else I would say the thing is dying."

  Spartan placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

  "You did nothing wrong. I don't think this creature belongs on this ship. It's as much a prisoner now as we are. It's clearly an ancient weapon, something these ships and people were trying to escape from when it overran the ship. Since then it has been scavenging parts, equipment, and weapons to keep itself active, and is using the energy from the ship to maintain and repair itself."

  Five-Seven nodded in agreement, but Khan seemed confused.

  "Wait, you said it damaged the exit doors. What did it do exactly?"

  Five-Seven turned to the massive warrior.

  "It detonated the dropship nearest to the doors. One was blasted apart; the second badly damaged and jammed against the blast doors. I have people working on it, but it will take at least three hours to move the debris with EVA gear. And even if we can get the dropship working, it cannot carry us all."

  "Give it time," grumbled Khan.

  Captain Delatorre looked to the Jötnar.

  "The dropships are designed for no more than ten warriors, a single piece of hardware, and up to thirty units in the tubes."

  Spartan lifted his hand to make them stop.

  "It doesn't matter right now. The dropship can carry a platoon, and trust me. By the time this is over, I doubt there will be many more of us left."

  Khan moved to where one of the Grunts had fallen and lifted it up. He moved his head closer and then cast the machine aside. Five-Seven seemed unperturbed by the growing anger building inside Khan.

  "The longer we delay, the stronger it will get. Every marine or robot that we lose will weaken us and strengthen it."

  Five-Seven lifted his secpad.

  "I believe the Captain is correct. Captain Delatorre suggested I use the ship's engineering teams to attempt access to this ship's systems. There is a functioning system not far from the dropships. We don't have much, but what we've witnessed with this creature, matches the data my engineers have retrieved from the cruiser's data banks."

  Spartan was dumbfounded. A decade ago, Thegns were seen as nothing more than meat suits, cannon fodder for enemy guns. They were fast and tough, but they appeared to lack any discernible intelligence, and no obvious degree of free will. With them freed by On’Sarax and the others, they were now operating equipment and understanding the complexities of alien systems at least as well as his human crew, perhaps better. He could see there was something else, though, more than simply news of what had occurred in the battle.

  "Go on."

  Captain Delatorre seemed to have composed himself, and although his eyes were locked on a pair of marines dragging a body, he quickly returned to Spartan and the others.

  "Well?"

  The officer swallowed uncomfortably.

  "This creature. It is not a living beast, but a defensive weapon system. So far, we have access to part of the ship's log, and it is very clear about what happened."

  Both Khan and Gun moved a little closer.

  "The derelict is what is left of a single Trusskan colony. It doesn't say why they refused to follow the suicidal story we have all heard, but they were fleeing a thing called Guardians."

  Khan and Spartan looked to each other, and Khan began to laugh.

  "Guardians? Who came up with that stupid name?"

  "The Trusskans. It is a defensive machine, designed to self-replicate, repair, and remove signs of contaminated species. The log infers that many were built to protect the Trusska from a deadly threat."

  Khan grunted irritably.

  "Well, that plan worked out well for them, didn't it?"

  Five-Seven nodded.

  "That is where the derelict comes in."

  Spartan lifted his hands.

  "Wait, I think I can see where all of this is going. The Trusskans didn't kill themselves. They activated these things, probably to protect them from something, and it went wrong, very badly wrong."

  "The Biomechs?" Khan suggested.

  "Probably. Whatever happened, the Trusska ended up being flagged as targets, and if the stories are true, they were hunted down."

  Captain Delatorre appeared fascinated with the information.

  "Yes...yes, of course. And that's why the Trusska destroyed their Spacebridges, to stop these Guardians escaping to other worlds. So the stories were true, and they did this so the other species would live."

  "Maybe," added Spartan, "But somehow one of these things got aboard this collection of escaping ships. They either didn't get the memo, or decided to make a run for it. Jump ahead a few hundred years, and we've got a dead ship, inhabited by a machine that wants only to escape, replicate, and destroy contamination."

  Khan chuckled.

  "Hell, if it reaches T'Karan and onwards, it will find the signs of the Biomechs on nearly every world."

  He pointed his armoured limb at his own chest.

  "What about me? Or them?"

  He pointed to Five-Seven and his Thegn comrades. Spartan sighed, realising the enemy they were facing was both more powerful than expected, and a greater threat to the Alliance than he could ever have imagined.

  "This isn't good, not at all. The Guardian war machine hit us hard, and it wants out of here. We sustained nearly thirty percent casualties in less than two hours of leaving Euryale. In another…"

  Khan groaned as he listened to the words.

  "In six hours Euryale will blow, and all of this becomes pointless talking. All we have to do is keep it busy. Euryale will do the rest."

  Captain Delatorre and Five-Seven exchanged looks, and Spartan spotted them right away.

  "What is it? More good news?"

  Five-Seven glanced at the Captain who still looked pale and uncomfortable. He gave the Thegn a nod to continue.

  "Major, there has been partial contact from the Colonel. The information was fragmentary, but it would appear the Colonel is coming here with help. He mentioned a team from Prometheus."

  Khan and Spartan turned to each other, and Khan looked both pleased an
d surprised at the news. Both had assumed the rescue party would be a modest affair, possibly one that was more likely to get itself into further trouble. But a troupe of warriors from Prometheus could mean only one thing, the Red Watch. Of all the Jötnar, they were perhaps the most experienced and best equipped.

  "The Colonel is aboard IAS Titan. It wasn't clear, but there was a mention of the Admiral Jarvis Naval Station. The Colonel said something about an assault team at the station. He did confirm that his destination is here, and to help us."

  The Thegn paused, presumably trying to remember if there was anything else. It took no more than a couple of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. He then looked directly at Spartan.

  "I managed a short response before all contact was jammed. That was the end of the conversation."

  "About time Gun got off his ass and came here to give us a hand," said Khan.

  Spartan looked less pleased about the news.

  "How much information did you send to him?"

  Five-Seven shook his head.

  "Not much. That we had abandoned ship and were moving in to secure the derelict."

  "Did you tell him about the creature? He has to know to stay away from the derelict."

  Five-Seven continued to shake his head.

  "No, Major. We were jammed almost immediately after I sent the data on the creature, and then that creature hit us. It didn't want us sending a signal. I sent us much as I could in the time I had."

  Spartan looked disappointed, but none of them could see that, due to his face being hidden inside the thick plating of the Maverick armour.

  "Very well. How long do we have?"

  Captain Delatorre opened the visor on his naval PDS armour. Normally, he looked perfectly comfortable, but in this lightweight body armour he looked completely out of his depth. Five-Seven looked to the Captain to explain the rest. Reluctantly, he explained everything they knew.

  "We've triangulated their position. Based on the best data we have, I estimate they will reach here in five hours...approximately. They must be using Titan, and her engines are not in a good way. Any problems and their travel time could alter...substantially. Say, a margin for error of up to two hours either way."