Star Crusades Nexus: The Third Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  Again there was a long pause. The situation was worse than the President had been expecting, that much was clear to the military commanders.

  “And this situation with the Byotai and the Anicinàbe. Is that under control?”

  General Rivers nodded.

  “For now. There is no immediate danger in the Byotai systems, but it does mean that most of their forces are being held back to defend their fifty plus worlds.”

  “Can we win?” asked the President.

  General Rivers didn’t even need to think about it.

  “No, Sir. We cannot. The Arks are all but impregnable to our weapons, and each one carries sufficient vessels to hold back our combined military forces. We can hold them, for weeks, perhaps months. But if we want to come out of this alive, we will need to put something else into action. Helios needs help, and soon.”

  “Operation Citadel?” Admiral Churchill asked.

  “That is one option, replied General Rivers, “There is also the possibility of making use of the information obtained by Spartan and Colonel Morato on Mars. They have access to…”

  “No,” President Harrison said in a firm tone, “I’ve spoken with my own advisors on this one. We cannot condone involvement of Biomech forces in our long-term strategic goals. Bring them to Terra Nova as planned. They will be properly debriefed.”

  General Rivers looked taken aback, but it was Admiral Anderson who spoke exactly what he was thinking.

  “Mr. President. I concur with General Rivers’ assessment of the information coming from Mars. We would be foolish if we chose to ignore the…”

  The man lifted his hands in annoyance.

  “That is enough, Gentlemen. I have seen the reports concerning this man, a man that has been missing and in Biomech custody for months. No, when he gets here, he will be kept somewhere safe and secure until such time as this crisis is over.”

  “And the Biomech?” Admiral Anderson asked.

  The President considered that for a moment.

  “You lost one of theirs during the operation at Prometheus, did you not? It might be wise to keep this one for a rainy day. You never know when a bargaining chip might prove useful.”

  He made to continue, but something caught his attention, and he looked away. It was only for a moment, but long enough for General Rivers and Admiral Anderson to share a look. Neither said a word, but both knew immediately what the other was thinking. The President finished talking to the unseen person and turned his attention back to those present.

  “Right, where were we?”

  Admiral Anderson spoke first.

  “We were discussing how we are going to win this war.”

  The President nodded.

  “Ah, yes. So Helios and its planets are under siege, and the Black Rift will come under attack at any moment. A few more men or ships will make little difference. There will be no reinforcements traveling through the T’Karan-Helios Rift, not until we have sufficient numbers to tip the scales.”

  The President scratched at his temple, an odd affectation, and one that hadn’t gone unmissed to the others present when he had something to say that seemed at odds with his body language. General Hammerstein rose to his feet, but the President waved him down.

  “We cannot sit back and wait for the next engagement. We must be decisive, Gentlemen. The public is behind us for now, but we must act, and when we start, we must be successful. One major defeat in the field, and I will be forced to withdraw all that we have left to our own borders. Operation Citadel is, in my opinion, the way forward. That means a massive build-up on the border, and the creation of the greatest military expedition ever mounted by mankind. It is my opinion that...”

  He continued speaking while Admiral Anderson gave the General a quick glance. General Rivers nodded ever so slightly at the look. Not even the other Joint Chiefs could make out the subtle movement of his head. Unlike them though, the two old senior officers had spent considerable time in the last war. There was a degree of respect and acknowledgement amongst them and people like Admiral Churchill that the others could never understand.

  Yes, I know. If we want to win this war, we’ll need this Biomech, and there’s only one man that can make that happen. Spartan.

  WRATH OF GODS

  STAR CRUSADES NEXUS, BOOK 8

  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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  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.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Alliance spread its influence from one side of the galaxy to the other, but with the construction of the first long-range Rift came a desire to explore further. If one could travel over three thousand light years in one direction, then why not travel to other just as remote locations? Information recovered from the Biomech ruins of Hyperion and Hades showed that a vast potential network of Spacebridges between multiple Nexus could allow travel to every star within the vast Orion–Cygnus Arm. This area of space encompassed over a thousand parsecs across and three thousand parsecs in length and included the world of the Alliance, as well as Betelgeuse, Rigel, the stars of Orion's Belt, and the Orion Nebula itself. The construction and maintenance of such an enterprise would require the collected work of trillions of citizens and machines over generations to complete.

  The Races of the Known Universe

  ANS Dreadnought, Mars Orbit, 361 CC

  Spartan ducked low and punched directly at her face. It was a fast, powerful blow, but even he wasn’t quick enough to strike Teresa. She avoided the attack by the narrowest of margins and yanked at his good arm. She pulled him off balance, and he stumbled forward, only to trip over her leg and spin over onto his back.

  “Come on, old man, you can do better than that!” she laughed.

  Spartan flipped himself back to his feet and just made it. He could feel his back creaking a little as he moved, and he groaned, much to his annoyance.

  “Spartan, get to it!” said Khan further back in the training hall.

  It was a modest area to practice, but more than enough for their purposes. Weights and benches filled a third of the space, but it was on the mats that Spartan had returned to time after time over the last month. His wounds continued to heal, but the damage done to his bones and memory was long-term. Even so, he’d used the time to build up strength and stamina to levels not far from before he’d been taken prisoner. He looked to Khan and shook his head.

  “You want some as well?”

  A dull impact cracked against his temple, and he found himself staggering to one side until he could right his balance.

  “Concentrate, this way,” said Teresa.

  Khan chuckled and looked to his right where Olik watched. There were another dozen marines, all watching with a mixture of awe and amusement. Teresa was their Colonel and commander of the entire battalion, yet on this ship she was sparring like any enlisted marine, and doing very well. Her speed and power was easily a match for the best of any of them even half her age. She moved arou
nd Spartan, her light form and perfect balance in stark contrast to Spartan’s brutish movement.

  “It’s good to see them together,” said Khan.

  Olik nodded slowly.

  “I saw what Teresa did on Prometheus. She is an insane commander. She takes risks and comes out on top every time.”

  Khan wasn’t quite sure if that was the complement Olik intended. He was a seasoned warrior just as much as Khan was, but he’d had far less experience of these two people than he’d had.

  “Spartan is much worse. You saw what happened down there when they worked together. Combined, they have the ability to rally anybody to their side and conquer entire worlds. They’re probably more effective than even the Biomechs in that way.”

  Captain Rivers was standing in the corner of the gymnasium and watching silently. He could hear what the two were saying, and with every word found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. Colonel Morato was a proven asset, but this sparring with a civilian on board their flagship. It just wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “Oh, I see you,” said Spartan with a roar.

  Spartan planted his feet firmly and locked his eyes on his wife’s body. Like him, Teresa wore nothing but the physical training clothing used by all other marines. It was simple attire, a pair of long compression pants that fitted close to the skin and a short, close cut sleeved top. They were barefooted, and the tightness of the compression clothing emphasized every bump and curve in their bodies. Spartan and Teresa couldn’t have been more different. Where Spartan was broad and muscular, Teresa was short, toned, and light skinned. Neither looked a day older than their late thirties, due to a mixture of diet, fitness, and the best medical regime the Alliance could offer. Teresa caught him looking at her, smiled, and then ran at him.

  “Bit mistake,” he said laughing.

  She reached within a meter and then jumped out to the right. Spartan moved to block her, but she darted around to find the back of his elbow crashing into her chest and the back of his forearm against her cheek. The impact was hard and heavy, and it stopped her in her tracks. Spartan turned to face her, their faces just centimeters apart.

  “I told you it was a mistake.”

  A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, but she spat out a little more and shook her head. Unlike Spartan, she began to move about, her feet light and fast on the mats. Spartan lowered his center of gravity and lifted his arms, preparing for the next attack.

  “I don’t think so, Spartan. If I want you on your back…you’ll be on your back!”

  A few marines near Khan let out a few catcalls, but a quick stare from the monstrous warrior quickly quieted them down. As he looked back, the two were wrestling before Spartan finally slipped and crashed to his back once more. Teresa leaned in to lock his neck.

  “You see,” she hissed.

  Spartan didn’t give up though and locked his legs around her thigh, pinning her between his legs. She was strong but nothing of the level that Spartan was. Every marine was exceedingly fit, but Spartan had always been just that little bit bigger and stronger than the average. Try as she might, there was simply no way to power her way out of the situation.

  “And I said it was a mistake.”

  The two lay there, clamped together like some infernal machine with neither refusing to back down. Teresa pushed as hard as she could and instead fell down over him. As she lost her balance, she reached out and pinned both of his arms to the ground.

  “Officer on deck!” barked one of the Marine sergeants.

  Major Terson, the second-in-command for the entire 39th Battalion walked in. He spotted them grappling on the ground and waited for them to finish. Teresa threw a quick look at him and then bent down and kissed Spartan quickly on the nose.

  “That’s it…for now.”

  He released her, and the two rolled apart. Spartan lifted himself up slowly on one knee while Teresa jumped up as though she’d only just started her exercise regime. She nodded to one of her marines who tossed her a towel. Teresa caught it with her left hand and wiped her brow.

  “Go on.”

  Khan and Olik moved to Spartan, who was finding it much harder to bounce back up.

  “What’s wrong, old man, you feeling your age today?”

  Spartan straightened his back and quickly wished he hadn’t. He tensed his facial muscles and powered through the pain. The doctors had done some great work with him, but nothing could alter the fast that the Biomechs had caused permanent problems with his limbs. He could even feel a numbing pain from his missing forearm. He looked at the artificial limb and found himself laughing. Khan watched him with amusement.

  “You’re going slightly mad, Spartan.”

  Spartan looked to him and angled his head while nodding.

  “You might be right. Hell, after what we’ve been through, you’d need to be. Right?”

  Major Terson moved closer to Teresa who was still wiping her brow from the exertions. A small pattern of blood on the towel marked where her lip was still bleeding.

  “Colonel, an urgent flashcom from High Command. The General is coming to Sol. He will be here in three days.”

  He noticed the blood and looked a little concerned. Teresa either didn’t see his expression or simply chose to ignore it.

  “Very good. Pass the word to the Captain. We’ll need to regroup at the Mars Rift shortly. The fleet will need to make preparations.”

  He nodded and then left as quietly as he’d arrived. Spartan and Khan both watched him leave the gymnasium, and three more marines took their place on the mats.

  “Three days,” Spartan said in a questioning tone, “Is that going to be enough time to finish?”

  Teresa shrugged.

  “We’d better go and find Z’Kanthu and see how he’s doing.”

  * * *

  Z’Kanthu waited in the darkness deep inside the bowels of the ship. Try as they might, neither Teresa nor Spartan could ignore the increased security as they moved closer to the powerful machine. By the time they reached his temporary quarters aboard the ship, there were pairs of marines at every access point. He knew it was them before they entered the open door and into the large storage area. It was square in shape and outfitted with artificial windows on one side that gave the impression the quarters were located on the outside of the ship. It was a simple and yet effective way of creating the illusion of glass windows. A pair of Decurion machines waited like motionless sentinels on each side of him, their limbs hung down low and lifeless.

  “Spartan, Colonel. I heard Khan making his way here as well. Where is he?”

  Spartan approached and reached up to make contact with the machine’s arm. It was an odd custom, but in the last few weeks, the two had become much closer than any had expected. It wasn’t like the friendship between him and Khan, but closer than anything he shared with those in the Marine Corps.

  “He’s checking on his brothers. Their quarters are not much better than yours.”

  The Biomech flexed his limbs as if they were aching.

  “There is nothing wrong with what I have been given. Space is a luxury we do not have, especially with the work we’ve been doing. Time is much more of a problem if we are to be ready for what we are going to be forced to do. I suspect that is why you’re here?”

  Spartan looked to Teresa.

  “You know about the General?” Teresa asked Z’Kanthu.

  The machine said nothing, and Teresa knew almost immediately that she’d simply answered her own question by telling him. Z’Kanthu nodded but said nothing more.

  “Very well. Yes, we need to pull out of this area. The reports from the front are not good. Spascia is still holding, but Helios…”

  She found it hard to continue describing what was happening. Spartan placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Z’Kanthu. You know how the Biomechs operate. They are launching ground invasions of all Helion worlds, but Helios Prime is something different. By the time they’ve finished, the wo
rld will be a sterile rock.”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  Teresa looked up at him and shook her head angrily.

  “Yes? Is that all you have?”

  The machine paused, perhaps contemplating her question and then answered.

  “Yes.”

  Teresa looked down hopelessly and rested her head in her hand.

  “We’ve been given this time on the promise we would be able to bring assets to the war. The assumption being we were enlisting Earthsec forces, but you’ve seen how successful that has been.”

  “I don’t think the volunteer unit is going to change the war,” Spartan said ruefully.

  The day before he was aboard one of the many requisitioned civilian liners being hastily converted for war. The reality was this just meant clearing out the unnecessary junk, fitting stowage equipment, and marking them up as Alliance vessels. Only a lucky few had been fully painted up, and even fewer retrofitted with point-defense turrets. Those they had recruited were a mixture of security staff, retired soldiers, and more than a few unsavory characters Spartan suspected would be as likely to steal and run rather than fight.

  “Maybe, but we do have over a thousand of them so far.”

  Spartan lifted the corner of his mouth in a crooked smile.

  “Oh, a thousand? Well, in that case.”

  Teresa shook her head in mock annoyance and looked back to the machine.

  “How many are left?”

  The aged warlord extended his hand and opened the fingers. A colorful hologram appeared showing a line of machines, each of them like him but different in minor ways. Some were larger, and at least one was multi-armed. All were massive though, and nothing like anything created by man.

  “Following our defeat, the last of our kind fled out here. This is the last one I have any information on, the rest scattered out into the blackness. They may have lived, but for how long and without assistance,” he shrugged; at least it was his best impersonation of the human gesture he was capable of displaying.