Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

  What the hell have we found out here?

  Then the vessel lifted up higher and vanished up through the thin atmosphere and into space. Colonel Daniels watched with a mixture of shock and apprehension as it disappeared from view. He started to move his muscles, but then he spotted dark shapes in the thick clouds. Around the shapes flashed bright colours, much like that of an electrical storm. Then the vessel reappeared, but this time it was trailing smoke and heading in a death spin towards the ground. It didn’t take long for the devastated vessel to strike a mountainous region almost a kilometre from their current position. The shockwave was powerful, and the marines were forced to grab onto anything they could find, for fear of being blasted a great distance on the low gravity moon. He lifted his head and watched the red hot fires burning around the wreckage of the craft. The flashing in the clouds had stopped, and there were no more explosions or signs of danger, other than the burning wreckage.

  I need backup!

  He tapped his intercom on his helmet, desperate to reach somebody.

  “This is Colonel Daniels, is there anybody out there? I repeat, Colonel Daniels of the Alliance Marine Corps. We’ve been hit by a major blast, have casualties and need immediate evac.”

  He was greeted with total silence, the kind that was rarely encountered by marines in the field. He looked back at the marines near him, and especially the wounded man the other two had been carrying. They were too busy attending him to notice their commanding officer looking at them. That was when the crackle of a broken audio message made its way into his helmet.

  “Sergeant Arkos, are their any survivors out there? I repeat. This is Sergeant Arkos, 1stSquad.”

  Colonel Daniels could barely conceal his relief at the news from the marine.

  “Arkos, Daniels here. What’s your status?”

  The next few words were slightly broken before the signal came in clearly.

  “Shuttle is down, three casualties. Something came over our position and bombarded the LZ. We were lucky nobody was killed. I’ve pulled the unit back and into the cover of the nearby craters and cover.”

  Daniels nodded at the news, satisfied that things were starting to return to his control. He’d worried that the rest of the unit had been wiped out in the attack, and the news that 1stSquad was intact meant there was a chance that at least half of the platoon had survived. It was still not perfect but much better than he had expected just a minute earlier.

  “Good work, Sergeant. We have a number of dead and wounded in 2ndand 3rdSquads. Did you get a look at your attacker?”

  “Negative, Sir, it just flashed over us and in the clouds. Next thing, we detected devices coming down. By the time we were in cover, the shuttle was gone. I did have time to send an emergency distress signal to the fleet. Either they are hiding or that thing took them out.”

  He glanced back and spotted three more marines emerging from cover and helping to carry one of the supply crates. As the men approached, he noticed the damage to their armour. Luckily the improved PDS armour was tough and able to absorb severe damage before rupturing or spreading heat or damage to the marine inside. What really caught his eye was the front of one man’s helmet that was badly cracked and slightly fused by heat. It was almost as if he had been hit at long range by the blast of a thermal weapon like the low-tech thermal shotguns. He shook his head. He knew he needed to concentrate on the mission right now, not the fate of individual marines.

  “Okay, we need to keep low in case there are anymore of these things and meet at the Charlie LZ. Understood?”

  “Sir!” barked the young Sergeant.

  Colonel Daniels crawled over to the group of marines. As he moved, he was forced to slow down due to the dust cloud he was kicking up.

  “I’ve just made contact with 1stSquad. Looks like they made it, but the shuttle’s gone. What do we have here?”

  The marines looked about as they checked the salvaged gear the small number of men and women had recovered during their rushed escape. Apart from the crate, there were just four spare rifles and a partially damaged scanning unit.

  “The crate, is that the support unit?” he asked.

  Corporal Handel nodded quickly.

  “Yes, Sir, it’s the remote drone unit, one craft and two spare propulsion modules. Should be fully functioning.”

  “Good work. We need to get to the…”

  He was interrupted by a new transmission. His suit confirmed the source and decoded it using the standard Alliance Marine Corps cyphers. The computer displayed the ship confirmation code that matched the signature of ANS Devastation.”

  What is she doing out here?

  The computer had one last stage to complete before the link was established and the audio feed began.

  “To all Marine Corps units, this is Genera Rivers. We are bringing in reinforcements within twelve hours. Your landing zone is flagged as compromised. If you are able to respond, send a code IFF burst packet with your pickup point. Find yourselves some shelter and conserve your power. Under no circumstances are you to travel and investigate any other parts of the moon.”

  “Thank the Gods,” he whispered to himself with a calmness that disguised his almost panic at being abandoned on the moon.

  * * *

  Spartan and Jack entered the port landing bay of ANS Devastation to the pomp and ceremony expected for an arriving dignitary. Jack looked out of his depth, but Spartan recognised the joke for what it was. No sooner had they moved into the shelter of the ship than Khan of the Jötnar appeared. He was flanked by five more of his kin, each of them armoured in their new style armour, but unusually they carried no heavy weapons. Even so, Spartan could see the blades built into at least two parts of the arms and the thick plating around the neck and chest.

  “Khan, I see you’ve brought some muscle with you for a change.”

  This brought a guffaw from the old warrior who stepped forward and thumped Spartan on the shoulder.

  “It’s been a long time, Spartan. These are my brothers, hunters from Hyperion and all itching to taste some combat.”

  “Jötnar without combat experience?” asked Jack, finally stepping forward to examine them. Compared to their great hulk, he looked like a schoolchild, but each of them was well aware of his background and experience. All Jötnar knew the good reputation of Spartan and his family, especially his exploits in fighting for them and for their protection. Without Spartan and Teresa in their corner, there was a good chance the Jötnar would no longer exist as a race.

  “Trust me, they’ve got the experience but only on Hyperion. They want to taste off-world blood.”

  Spartan grinned and indicated forward with his hand.

  “The briefing room?”

  Khan nodded with a grin and turned to his comrades.

  “You see. Spartan is all action. On the ship for less than thirty seconds, and he wants to know the mission. I told you this was the place for you. Give it a week, and I promise you, each will have a belt of kills.”

  They walked down the corridor, and Spartan noticed Jack was grinning from ear to ear. He leaned over just enough so that nobody else could hear him.

  “Careful at the briefing, these things tend to get political and fast, especially with the Jötnar on board.”

  Jack nodded and said no more. The corridor was longer than he would have expected and much lower. Whether this was down to the ship’s new design, he couldn’t tell. The gravity generators were technology he still didn’t fully understand. Khan moved to his left so that the two men and the Jötnar were walking three abreast. It left no room for anybody else, and the small number of naval personnel in the same part of the ship was forced to move to the extremes to avoid being bumped into.

  “Spartan, is it true about this place?” asked Khan.

  “What do you mean?”

  Khan grinned, but his oversized head and muscled neck made it look more like he was growling at him.

  “Gun told me before we left that artefacts
had been found out here. That maybe Orion isn’t the wasteland the press have been announcing.”

  “Did he now? Seems Gun is getting more information than any of us!”

  They approached the double door that led into the briefing room. Two marine guards nodded rather than saluted, and the doors hissed open at their arrival.

  “Go in,” said the first marine.

  The three stepped inside, but the marines blocked access to the rest of the Jötnar. Khan turned back, blocking the doorway with his vast bulk.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

  “Orders. Only command staff or APS executives are allowed in the briefing room,” said the marine without even a hint of emotion to his voice. Khan exhaled and prepared to start shouting, but Spartan intervened.

  “We’re here at the request of the General. Now let them in,” he said firmly.

  The marine guard looked at Spartan and moved his eyes back to his front. Khan looked to the marine and then to Spartan. His look took him right back to their many violent escapades, and Spartan new immediately that Khan meant business.

  “Your temper hasn’t calmed with time, has it?” he said humourlessly.

  As Khan reached for the marine, he was sure he could see a grin on his face. Rather than leave his friend at the risk of being shot, he jumped forward and at the second marine. Jack stood there silently, dumbfounded by the speed and violence from the two of them.

  Way to go, Father. Get us all kicked of the ship in the first ten minutes! He thought with a mixture of humour and pride.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Like all racial units throughout history, the Jötnar encountered racism, abuse and discrimination from the first days of their use in war. Their track record during the Uprising was exemplary, and many were killed in the fighting on multiple fronts. Not one Jötnar unit was ever recorded as having refused orders or ever breaking or retreating under fire. Their steadfast nature, coupled with unswerving loyalty to the Confederacy, only worsened the blow when the Alliance disbanded all ground forces other than reserves or regular Marine Corps troops. Overnight, the 1st Jötnar Battalion was relegated to nothing more than a training unit for part-time warriors and was disbanded within a month. This lack of foresight would be dearly felt when they would be needed once more following the Orion Incident.

  The 1st Jötnar Battalion

  From inside the briefing room, business was put on pause as the sound of a struggle took precedence. It was short, but noisy, and resulted in a number of the marine officers standing from their seats and moving to the entrance. None were armed with more than military issue sidearms, but they were all clear that the General was on board. Apart from being of senior rank, he was also one of the most highly decorated and experienced officers of the last quarter of a century. The door burst open, and Spartan and Khan entered the briefing room, followed by the five Jötnar.

  “Apologies,” said Khan, “we were delayed by security.”

  Jack grinned at his father, who nursed a bruised cheek, as he moved up to his son. Khan, on the other hand, seemed to have avoided taking even a scratch and was holding the weapon carried by one of the marines from outside. The room was of modest size and mainly taken up with seating that faced a raise platform. General Rivers turned from speaking with the ship’s XO and CAG who both stood to the side of the raised section. A dozen other marine officers and naval crew waited patiently for their briefing to continue.

  “Spartan…Khan, I see you’ve made your entrance.”

  A group of armoured marines burst in through the door with their weapons levelled at the Jötnar. At the head of the group was an angry faced Asian Captain. Unlike the others, his helmet was off, and he shouted loudly at Spartan.

  “Get on the floor, now!”

  Spartan turned to face him with both his arms raised to defend himself.

  “Stop this!” roared the General, with a booming voice that even surprised Spartan.

  The marines stood their ground but dared not come even a footstep closer into the briefing room. The Captain looked up to the even angrier looking General Rivers.

  “Sir, these unauthorised civilians assaulted my men. They have no business here, and they must answer to my authority!”

  “Your men, Captain?” The General retorted. “Every marine on this ship answers to me! This group, under the command of Spartan, has all been personally cleared and invited by my staff to assist in this operation. Their paperwork went through nearly an hour ago, Captain. They are to be treated with the respect due any marine and navy crewman on this ship. Both Khan and Spartan have long, exemplary records with the Corps. I requested his entire party to be brought here for this briefing. I suggest you find out who screwed up and sanction him or her properly. Understood, Marine?”

  The Captain stared with piercing eyes at Spartan and looked back to the General.

  “Sir!” he called out.

  The General then looked to Khan, doing his best not to smile.

  “If you could send your retinue with the Captain here, he will show them to your quarters. It is mainly the two of you I need to see. In the meantime, we have things to discuss.”

  Khan looked back to his people and said nothing. He simply nodded slowly. Spartan was dismayed to see the lack of trust now held between marines and Jötnar. In his time, they had fought side by side on planets and ships, but now it seemed there was a whole new generation with little or no respect for their brothers in arms. They filed out of the room until just Spartan, Jack and Khan remained of their group. After the door had shut, the General continued speaking.

  “Khan, it is to my deepest regret that the Alliance saw to the disbanding of the Jötnar Battalion. I argued against it, but you of all people will understand the whims of politicians. We fought some tough battles to get where we are now. Perhaps the three of you from the APS Corporation would listen in on this briefing?”

  Khan nodded politely, and Spartan noted that his manners had improved massively since the last time they’d met. The Jötnar glanced to Spartan.

  “We get to do more fighting with Spartan’s company anyway...and we get paid better! If we didn’t do that, then we’d end up spending our time hunting on Hyperion,” he laughed and squeezed himself in next to Spartan and Jack.

  The seats were large but still not suited to the oversized frame and muscles of a nearly three-metre tall Jötnar. General Rivers grinned at his words. He was well aware that numbers of Jötnar had served with APS teams throughout the Alliance and had achieved some staggering victories against criminal gangs, thieves and even the odd insurrection. It amused him that most there would think Khan referred to the hunting of docile beasts on Hyperion. He was, of course, referring to hunting down the surviving Biomechs that still roamed the jungles and mountains of the mist-covered planet. Their numbers were apparently under control, only just though.

  “I have no doubt about that.” He then indicated to those around him.

  “Let me introduce you to some of the command staff of the ship. This is the XO, Commander Jane Parker.”

  The tall woman wore her uniform without a single regulation crease showing on her uniform. Her neatly cropped reddish hair was pulled back, and her blue eyes seemed to almost glow at him. She nodded but said nothing. The General moved along to a short man wearing his navy uniform and with the rank of lieutenant showing.

  “Devastations Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Jesse Powalk, his father fought at Euryale in the Uprising.”

  “I heard you were there, Sir,” said the young officer to the seated Spartan. “My father spoke of your ground troops and the Jötnar. He always said they should have been mixed with the rest of the Corps. I think he was right. Your people are an asset to the Alliance.”

  General Rivers looked to Spartan and back to the Lieutenant, but the XO interrupted him.

  “He’s a civilian now, Lieutenant,” she said sternly. “You will refer to him as Mr. Sir is reserved for officers in the Alliance Military.”
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  General Rivers looked to her and shook his head. He had spent only a short time on the ship, but it was clear the XO for a stickler for the rules and would make it her mission to hold him back, or at the very least to hold back anybody not part of her crew. He was well aware of the antagonism towards private companies in the military, but it was an evil they happily made use of. The PMCs fought, bled and worked just as hard, sometimes even harder than the regular units they helped or replaced.

  “Actually, no, Commander. As you are no doubt aware, under the articles of the Alliance, all military forces, whether regular, militia or private will fall under the same rules and regulations as the regular military. Any military-type operation requires clear chain of command, and this also necessitates a formal rank to be applied to all members of a private unit. This was introduced to ensure private companies operate under the same laws and restrictions as regular military.”

  He looked to Spartan. “Can you explain to the Commander?”

  Spartan nodded and stood up.

  “Of course, General. At this level, our combat forces are based on small units with the same size and capabilities as Marine Corps squads and platoons. You’ll find almost all of our operatives are ex-military, mainly ASOG and Marine Corps. They are led by Team Leaders, roughly the equivalent of a sergeant in the Corps. Our equivalent of private is Operative, though they are normally known as ATLs or Assistant Team Leaders and use code letters instead of ranks or names. Leadership for these units, when in theatre, is by Security Managers, such as myself. This position in our Corporation carries a similar level of responsibility as a company commander such as a Captain. We are held accountable to the same rules and laws as you, and report directly to our assigned commander, in this case General Rivers.”