Star Crusades Nexus: The Third Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

Spartan stopped and looked back, just as part of the ceiling crashed down on top of two of the fallen enemy machines. Jötnar and marine alike scattered as more sections fell through. The facility shuddered, and the subtle vibrations from explosions shook the very floor.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  Khan stabbed a piece of shattered metal through the chest of yet another fallen machine and glanced up to Spartan. They were separated by no more than twenty meters now.

  “The other teams must have set their charges. Major Terson and the other commanders have given the all-clear signal. We’re the only ones left.”

  The Jötnar were making good progress as they ripped through the machines, buying valuable time for the marines to rig up equipment and charges through the space. A few of the machines tried to stop them, but the Jötnar were efficient. Every time they tried to interfere with the demolition equipment, they were intercepted. A few dozen Thegns had also made it inside and were busily throwing their bodies at the machines, even though many were gunned down. Then a light flashed inside his visor.

  “The charges are set, Spartan. We have to go,” said Khan.

  Spartan shook his head.

  “Get them out of here. I have to get Z’Kanthu.”

  A triple explosion rippled through the room, and two marines were vaporized by gunfire as a pair of engineers entered from the breached wall. Both were armed with powerful guns and mantlet-like shields on one side. Around them came dozens more of the medium-sized machines, and as quickly as that the fight began to turn against the attackers. Khan stepped closer, and Spartan lifted his hand.

  “We don’t have the time. Get them out of here. I’ll be back. I promise.”

  Spartan didn’t wait for an answer, and Khan watched him crash through the broken wall, narrowly avoiding the strikes of a third engineer. Khan wanted nothing more than to join his friend, but he could see marines, Thegns, and fellow Jötnar being hacked and shot at.

  “Hell, no!” he snarled.

  Ignoring his comrades, he chased after Spartan and into the path of another pair of engineers. Olik reached his side, and together they threw themselves at the two engineers.

  “Activate the charges. Everybody else out, now!” Khan roared.

  There was no disagreement, and the marines quickly gave ground while putting down an impressive level of covering fire. Many of the machines were forced to ground or to hide behind their already destroyed comrades. Khan was struck in the chest and again in the head with such power his armor was cracked in four places.

  “Mutant, slave,” said the machine.

  Khan had no idea how the thing was communicating, or even how it knew his language. It didn’t matter to him. He punched and kicked with all of his strength and somehow broke free of its embrace. That gave him the chance to duck under its attacks and then rip the mantlet shield from Olik’s opponent. He held onto the piece of armor and smashed it against their foes.

  “Destroy them!”

  Both were far too busy to see that all but four Thegns now remained in the Amplifier chamber. Their personal battle with the two engineers had taken all of their focus and energy. Only Khan noticed the countdown in his visor and began to laugh as the thermite charges triggered one after the other. One detonated right behind his opponent, and he took the opportunity to sidestep and smash the cracked edge of the shield into a breach in the thing’s armored torso.

  * * *

  On each side of the passageway were statues of more machines, many of which seemed no different to the one he was chasing. The machine was only a few meters ahead, and he used every last ounce of his strength and energy to keep going. They went through yet another arch and into a vast hallway filled with enormous pieces of equipment. Elevators moved up and down shafts, and dozens, perhaps hundreds more walking machines continued their work on the vast Rift Engine. Sparks flashed in a hundred places, but it was the massive window on the one side looking out into space that dumbfounded him. It was a huge dome-shaped object that must have been at least a hundred meters in height.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  The view on the other side showed a black world, a planet or moon. Behind it burned a bright red star that seemed to almost engulf the black world in its glow. It was the number of ships that stunned him. These were not the Biomantas and Ravagers that he was familiar with. They were easily two or three times their size. He counted hundreds of them, with dozens of them waiting in long columns. It reminded him of regiments of marines on parade, and the view from the window was the perfect spot to observe them. A noise from Z’Kanthu pulled his attention back to the enemy machines.

  That’s enough ships to defeat every world we’ve ever discovered.

  He stopped and looked to his right and then to his left. A machine the size of a marine came into view, and he pulled the trigger of his carbine. The gun punched dozens of holes into the thing before sending it to the ground in a pile of broken parts and sparks. He spotted Z’Kanthu being held down by a pair of machines while a third, much larger machine in bright red armor spoke to him.

  “Hey, you!” he shouted.

  Spartan had little to no chance, yet he still blasted at the thing with his carbine. He managed to punch three holes into its chest armor before it moved to the side and made an odd noise. Spartan rushed from a jog to a run and began to scream. He lifted the carbine and emptied the clip into the three of them in a wild spray of magnetic rounds. He kept on running and then found he had no grip. Spartan flailed about, but he was spinning and completely out of control.

  Artificial gravity has gone!

  He grabbed at anything he could see, but the path he’d taken was devoid of anything but the smooth floor. Instead of an aggressive attack, he now drifted helplessly. Movement caught his eye, and then something heavy swung at his face. He lifted his artificial arm to protect himself just as the Biomech arm crashed into his own limb. He spun about and crashed to the floor. As his vision blacked out, he heard just one word.

  “Spartan.”

  * * *

  Khan kicked against the wall and propelled himself toward the Mauler. He did his best to ignore the fusillade of shots smashing into the retreating boarding party and kept the shield between him and the enemy. Every meter they covered saw another chunk of the facility crash down around them. He still carried in his right arm the shield he’d torn from the Biomechs. With his left, he tugged at the wounded Olik. The lack of gravity had at least assisted in his removal of the badly hurt warrior.

  “Khan, just go!” said Olik.

  “Be quiet, you fool. We’re getting off this thing. I didn’t drag your worthless hide all this way to leave you next to a Mauler.”

  Another volley of shouts pattered around them, but the columns of marines and Thegns were not impotent. Each time a Biomech warrior showed its head it was hit by a dozen rounds from those retreating. There were five Maulers waiting in the wrecked area, and scores of warriors drifting about in zero gravity. The ball turrets on the flanks of the Maulers continued to blast away while the boarding parties dragged themselves inside. Khan reached the door of the nearest, and helping hands reached out to pull Olik inside. Khan laughed at realizing the helping hands were actually Thegn and human, with both dragging a synthetic Jötnar inside.

  “Good times,” he laughed as they pulled him inside.

  He watched the door hiss shut behind him, leaving behind the scores of dead warriors from both sides.

  Z’Kanthu, this had better work.

  * * *

  ANS Warlord, Black Rift

  “Admiral, we’ve got breaches throughout the port hull. Multiple damage and a reactor leak on the secondary power plant,” said the XO.

  Admiral Anderson wiped the sweat from his face and focused his attention on the mainscreen. The newly arrived formation of Biomech ships had massively turned the odds against the Alliance forces by a ratio of two to one. Even worse, these new arrivals were fresh and relatively undamaged. His own fleet
was the exact opposite.

  We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place now.

  The Black Rift was a hive of activity, as dozens more Biomech ships congregated near the massive structure protruding from the Rift.

  “Any change on that thing? We can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  “Science station is picking up power fluctuations. Nothing major yet though, Sir.”

  There was now so must dust and debris around the entrance to the Black Rift that the energy beams were now visible. Both sides had sustained heavy casualties, yet still the Alliance vessels kept up the fight. ANS Warlord took the lead position and focused its fire on the nearest damaged Ravager. Other ships concentrated their gun turrets and covered the target in projectiles while the Liberty destroyers used their speed to race around the newly arrived Biomech ships. The entire battle was a single long delaying action that he knew they could ultimately never win.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Admiral Anderson pointed at the Rift. The others looked in the same direction, but not even the XO could see it.

  “All ships; concentrate fire on their reinforcements,” Admiral Anderson snapped.

  His orders were acknowledged, and the gunfire stopped within a few seconds and quickly moved to those vessels that had come from inside the Helios System. Even just a few seconds respite allowed the area around the Black Rift to clear a little.

  “Contacts! It’s the Maulers!” said the tactical officer.

  At the same time a video stream appeared on the mainscreen. It was Major Terson, and his face was bloodied from some violent encounter.

  “Admiral…the station’s stabilizers and amplification systems are offline. You need…”

  The video flickered and then vanished. Admiral Anderson looked to his XO and frowned.

  “The amplification systems are offline? What does that even mean?”

  He walked past various screens and to the science station. The officers were busily scanning their own ship as well as the massive structure sat inside the Rift.

  “Well, what is happening out there?”

  The two junior officers looked back to him. The older, balding man spoke first.

  “We are getting odd readings, but the station is still functional. The Rift is stable. Wait…”

  Admiral Anderson leaned in and looked at the screens himself. The wormhole-shaped Spacebridge was shown on a three-dimensional lattice model. Right in the center was the Rift Engine with a bulbous section on each side of the Rift. The younger science officer almost fell off his seat in excitement.

  “The amplifiers, of course.”

  He pointed to the Spacebridge.

  “It’s no longer being held open. Those crazy fools have done it.”

  He looked back to the tactical display, and his heart nearly stopped.

  “The T’Kari, where are they?”

  A dozen pairs of eyes scoured the unit, but there was one, and only one of the alien ships left.

  “T’Kron, he’s still in the fight.”

  Admiral Anderson signaled to the communications officer.

  “Get me T’Kron, right now.”

  He looked back to the Rift as he waited.

  “I want full fighter cover for the Maulers. All other ships move in and help them. I want our people out of there!”

  He looked back to the tactical display and the hordes of ships from both sides. For all the armor and guns of his own vessels, it looked as though the fate of the fleets, perhaps even the entire star system, would come down to the last of the T’Kari Exiles. With the planetary defense systems offline, he could think of no other way of doing what needed to be done.

  This had better work. I need that Rift closed, and fast!

  The image of the T’Kari commander appeared.

  “Admiral. We’re ready.”

  Anderson’s lip quivered. He looked at the mainscreen and the mass of ships and fighters now swirling about the entrance of the Rift.

  “Do it, do it now!”

  The beam was invisible, yet the effect was instantaneous. The Rift changed in form from a doorway to another place and into a whirlpool. The Rift Engine ripped apart as it was cut clean in half, and explosions ripped though the section in Helion territory. A great pulse of energy pushed out and struck the nearest Biomech ships, and even a few Maulers that cast them out into space on a spinning course. Admiral Anderson watched the collapse with a mixture of terror and relief. Most of those ships near the Rift were now vulnerable, and he knew he had seconds to seize the initiative.

  “All ships break and attack anything near the Rift. We end this, today!”

  * * *

  Biomech Command Ship, Uncharted Space

  Spartan opened his eyes and looked directly into the face of his tormentor. As before, it was the large red machine, and at its flanks were dozens of similar machines of different colors and configurations. They were somewhere else, perhaps still on the station, but it could easily have been another ship. The lighting was poor, and he could see no further than just hundred meters, perhaps less. The open space was cavernous, and the walls were ribbed and curved in an odd fusion of flesh and machine.

  “Where am I?” he demanded.

  The red machine leaned in a little closer and then turned to indicate to the battered figure of Z’Kanthu. The machine looked at Spartan, but rather than speak or struggle, it simply lowered its head in a gentle nod. The enemy Biomech commander then looked back at him and reached out with a single limb. As it touched Spartan, he felt a jolt run though his body, something like an electric shock that instantly took him back to his time as a prisoner aboard the Biomech warship; when he and Khan had spoken with Z’Kanthu back before the mission.

  “Spartan, remember...” said the machine directly into his mind.

  Images flashed through his mind, many of them looking familiar. There was the Rift Machine, then Mars. He saw glimpses of Teresa and then back to the prison ship. More and more appeared, many of them going back to his fights on Prometheus as a pit fighter. Back and back the images went until one stayed in his mind. It was the interior of a ship, a derelict vessel with failing lights and blood-soaked bodies everywhere.

  “The Bright Horizon,” he muttered.

  The images flickered, and then he was back at the Biomech ship. The machines were pushing long needles into his body and then his head. He began to scream, but then the pain stopped as quickly as it had started.

  “It is your time, Spartan.”

  The images vanished and his eyes opened. He could see clearly now. The Biomech machines were waiting in long columns and watching him with interest. Behind them were a number of large domed windows, showing a similar view to that he had seen before. In the distance was the crackling energy of the collapsed Rift. The remains of the mighty engine that had labored away inside it still floated about. Hundreds of massive ships waited at the now closed doorway. Spartan heard sounds from the machine, odd, alien sounds, but somehow he could understand them. He looked down, and the shackles holding his half-naked form dropped down. He rubbed his hands and looked back at the main Biomech. He could feel suggestions and ideas swimming through his mind before something pushed them back to his subconscious.

  “What do you want?”

  The machine looked at Z’Kanthu lying helplessly on the ground. The Biomech moved closer to Spartan and handed him a cruel-looking weapon. It was nearly a meter long and shaped like a spearhead.

  “Destroy the traitor.”

  Spartan saw images of Z’Kanthu in his mind; the talk they had had on ANS Dreadnought. He saw the old machine in his mind, and to his amazement it spoke to him.

  Do whatever has to be done.

  His hands were already tightening around the weapon.

  “Show us your loyalty.”

  There was no hesitation. He jumped forward and stabbed down hard as though he was putting an animal out of its misery. The blade punched through the already ruined armor of the machine, and as it
pushed inside his body, the tip flashed in a micro-charge that vaporized the innards of the machine. He discarded the handle of the weapon and turned to face the machine.

  “Good,” it said.

  The machine then pivoted and pointed to the black space behind him. Strobe lights flickered and activated one line at a time. The open space seemed to increase a hundredfold to show thousands upon thousands of machines. Many were multi-limbed, but others carried vast weapons about their torsos. It was a truly massive army.

  “Your mind betrays you. Your allies see you as their savior, a man reborn with a destiny as a warlord. They are not wrong. You will lead armies, and you will burn their worlds. Then you will take your place as one of our own. The great cull has begun.”

  They both watched as another three massive Rift Engines moved slowly toward the crackling energy of the Rift. Spartan’s eyes looked on like glass, not a single emotion showed anywhere on his face.

  “They are weak, broken. They will not stand,” he said calmly.

  The machine moved a little closer.

  “If they do, what will you do?”

  Spartan looked into the face of the machine and tensed his jaw. There was a slight flicker below his eye and a twitch. Something inside his mind whispered, and try as he might, he couldn’t help smiling.

  “I’ll kill them all.”

  BLACK RIFT

  STAR CRUSADES NEXUS, BOOK 7

  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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