Star Crusades Nexus: The Third Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  Somebody is about to have one hell of a bad day.

  “Fire!”

  They all blasted away in a violent ripple. Teresa imagined what it would be like when the shells landed and hoped the forward observers would make the most of them. There were another dozen emplacements with similar guns all around the Bastion. What had been a forward base had now become an artillery position and command center for the frontline. The Alliance forces were as well equipped as they could ever expect to be, and with each extra day their long-range firepower and knowledge of the area grew.

  Teresa moved her eyes a little to check the time.

  Another four minutes.

  She was due to meet up with three of her junior officers to plan the next seventy-two hours of operations. It was a long, drawn out process that required constant reports, updates, and intelligence from a hundred different units.

  “Incoming counter-battery fire.”

  It was a faceless warning, followed by a shrill siren that was sent out every few hours. It had happened now so many times that she didn’t even check to see where the warning had come from. The only thing she did check was the Alliance authorization that came with the warning. It all came up as clear and official, yet something deep down made her nervous.

  They’re smart, those damned machines. One false alert to keep our heads down could give them a chance to do something unexpected.

  It was a quick thought, but also an important reminder as to how the enemy could so easily work around their procedures. It was enough for her to check on the position and rank of the marine that had called out the order. It was a sergeant, newly arrived and stationed on the northern bunker.

  Good. In that case I’ll get my head down.

  Teresa automatically moved from her position and down into one of the hundreds of dugouts now littering the ruins of Helios Prime. Three other marines waited there and looked at her nervously.

  “First bombardment?” she asked.

  Two nodded, but a third shook his head. Teresa looked at him and noticed the scorch marks along the man’s shoulder. She’d seen them before, and they were from a weapon unique to this part of the universe.

  “You’ve fought against the Helions?”

  The man nodded.

  “Yes, Sir, we were here during the Zathee Uprising.”

  Teresa looked down at her leg. A similar mark ran from her thigh right down to her knee. It was an odd thing to bond over, but the shared damage seemed to draw far more interest than it should have.

  “We were hit by the Animosh on more than a dozen occasions.”

  The man sighed in agreement.

  “I saw three of my squad die from those things. When are we going to get some armor that’s proof against them?”

  Teresa almost laughed at that question.

  “You’ve seen the damage those weapons can do against a Bulldog?”

  The man nodded.

  “Well, do you want to be walking around in that gear? Not even the Vanguards are safe against repeated hits from Animosh thermal weaponry. Fire and movement are better protection against them, not worrying about armor.”

  She looked away from him.

  Even if we did have new weapons and equipment, how would it get here? The Rift is still shut down.

  The sound of interceptor guns rattled loudly, the final indication that the attack was coming. The micro-radar trackers were so accurate they could identify and monitor projectiles down to 20mm cannon rounds. In seconds, the automated gun turrets opened fire, and the sky filled with trails of projectiles, just as had happened a hundred times before.

  Here it comes.

  The bombardment was much shorter than expected. The first salvo struck short and merely shattered already ruined structures, as the broken shells disintegrated overhead and then fell like metal rain. Nine more shots came in after them, each containing high-explosive ordnance, but only three made it past the interceptors in one piece. The first struck one of the recently installed inner blast walls, tearing through it a hole the size of a man.

  There’s more to come.

  Two more shells came down and shook the ground. There was no immediate sign of danger; just the expected shaking and rumble from the impact. Within three seconds, the all-clear signal blasted out thorough the base.

  “Up top, we’ve got a war to fight, Marines.”

  Teresa was out first and in the low cloud of dust. She looked about and was relieved to see no bodies or burning vehicles. More marines emerged from their hiding places, like rabbits appearing from a warren.

  “Back to your posts, move it!” barked a sergeant.

  The seasoned marine emerged from his own shelter with his carbine held in one hand. The marines didn’t hesitate upon spotting him, and as quickly as they had dispersed, they were back into action. Teresa walked back to the recessed command bunker and went inside. As always, the two marines at the entrance ignored her.

  About time, somebody remembered to stop saluting!

  Once inside, she headed to the tactical unit and looked at the mapping information. The two captains were still busily running operations, and four more junior officers assisted with the air support and logistics. It was a small number of personnel for such an important role. Off to their right was a large control unit that extended up into a massive antenna. Every single order that was issued was dispersed via the digital communications network, as well as being repeated directly to Admiral Lewis and General Rivers.

  We’ve got a lot of eggs down here in this basket.

  It was only partially true, of course. In reality, combat command could be transferred to any part of the network. It was the beauty of the system, in that redundancy was built in from the ground up. An atomic weapon could wipe out Colonel Morato and her entire staff, and in less than a minute ANS Ticonderoga could take over the same role.

  “Finally, we’re making progress.”

  A tracked vehicle trundled past her, pulling a large wheeled trailer full of dirt and debris. The marines and engineers had dug three or more meters down in places, creating a separate world that was hidden from direct line of sight. Many sections were completely covered while others dug down to join the myriad of underground tunnels, road and rail systems. The one saving grace for Helios Prime was that during their long war with the machines, they had been forced to dig down. Over months and years, the vast cities littering the surface began building both above and below the surface. There were now entire parts of Helios Prime known derisively as iceberg cities; unusual urban zones where more existed below the surface than above it. The ground began to shake, and Teresa lifted her armored arm to cover her face.

  “It’s Captain Devon, Sir. He’s taking the next patrol out.”

  Teresa looked to her left and watched six Bulldogs move out. The first and last were the mobile gun variants, whereas the other four were standard troop carriers. She made a silent prayer for them, knowing full well that ambushes and improvised roadside bombs were more likely to maim or kill them than an actual standup fight. The young Lieutenant approached while checking both left and right as he closed the distance. He stopped, saluted, and then handed her a secpad. It was all very old fashioned; the man could just have easily sent it directly to his helmet. Instead, this man reverted to a system that was millennia old.

  “Colonel, here are the latest arrival reports.”

  She looked up and down at the man. Teresa had no idea of his name, but he was definitely one of the few that had survived the original orbital bombardment. She moved her eyes a little to the right where the visor on her helmet began to put up information on the man. Even though the unit details said he was from logistics, she could also see that his armor bore the marks of months of combat. The reports often told just part of the story, and right now she was intrigued by the two long scars on his chest that looked suspiciously like the weapons swung about by Decurion war machines. Colonel Morato looked down and then spotted a familiar face from the corner of her eye.
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  “Captain Tycho, about time you got back. I assume your mission was successful?”

  The Captain approached, along with a pair of protective guards. He stopped and saluted with much gusto. The man moved with an awkward gait that betrayed the horrendous injuries he’d sustained years earlier. It didn’t stop him continuing his duties, however.

  “Yes, Sir, we’ve done it. The last assault by the Vanguards broke through to the Helion landing zone and into their underground forward positions. We’ve made contact with the Zathee resistance.”

  He shook his head in amazement.

  “They’ve been down there for months now. Almost no food, few weapons, and still they want to fight.”

  Teresa had heard the same in the other areas they had quickly liberated in the first week of operation.

  “This has cleared the frontlines, at least for awhile. Now we have access to our landing sites and can redeploy our forces a little quicker.”

  Teresa smiled briefly and then looked back to the tactical projector. The imagery had already confirmed their current position, but information from the man that had already been there was much more valuable to her.

  “So. We have control of these sites. That’s good. What about maintaining the links between them, though? The machines have proven adept at slipping between our defenses and continually isolating and picking off fortifications and supply zones.”

  Captain Tycho nodded quickly in agreement.

  “That’s true. They are avoiding out strongest positions and then surrounding and overrunning wherever they find left. The 13th NHA battalion took control of seven blocks of the Northern zones. We all know what happened there.”

  Teresa’s lip twitched a moment as she recalled the reports.

  “Yes, the NHA commander in that sector assured us he could keep the entire front secure. We redeployed our forces, and then the machines tunneled up into his command post. We almost lost the entire quadrant on that day.”

  Teresa shook her head bitterly.

  “Yeah.”

  With her left hand, she traced the positions her forces had been fighting over for weeks.

  “NHA forces have finally linked up with our marines at all nine locations, and each of them is expanding our areas of control slowly. The General is sending down another two regiments to reinforce our forces here.”

  Teresa nodded.

  “Good. We need a reserve, if anything else.”

  She indicated toward a table on which a tactical battlefield projector showed a large map of this part of the planet. Although the world was in theory a massive urban settlement, there were some parts more heavily populated than others. The capital and its outlying districts for more than fifty kilometers in all directions had become known as simply the City since they had arrived. There were eight other locations across the globe similar in scale, and Teresa pointed to each of them.

  “We have strong points in the most important parts of this planet, apart from the site of the Planetary Defense Installation. We only control two major zones in the Southern districts.”

  “True,” agreed the Captain, “and the enemy has given ground at most of our major sites. They are regrouping and concentrating their forces at the site of the Planetary Defense Installation and the city districts within twenty kilometers of the site.”

  She then pointed to another two positions above and below the same place.

  “Drones show their machines are constructing major defenses along the location of the old perimeter skywalks. Give it another week, and the machines will have three zones surrounded by fortified defenses and underground chambers.”

  Captain Tycho sighed.

  “This is our concern.”

  He indicated the areas already taken by the marines.

  “Our strategy has been successful, and we have taken back substantial areas from the enemy. Even so, the best estimate of their strength is over two hundred thousand, but that could be way off. They are pulling back from our forces and hunkering down.”

  Teresa leaned back and stretched her back a little. She had been concentrating on the attritional grind for so long now. The first two weeks had been completely different, with both sides vying for control of the planet. They had been evenly matched, but the enemy had changed tack.

  “It’s as though they want to preserve their forces.”

  Captain Tycho looked back to her.

  “Of course. It’s a delaying tactic. They don’t want to win this, not yet anyway. They have control of the Doomsday Weapon, even if it is currently non-functioning, and the Animosh have been providing technical and logistical support.”

  Teresa could have smiled, if it hadn’t meant the war would go on for even longer.

  “So they want to keep us pinned down, but why?”

  There was little opportunity to continue the conversation. One of the lookouts had already spotted them and called out as Teresa could see black shapes off into the distance. From there, even the enhanced optics of the PDS Alpha armor was unable to show much. All she could tell was that the craft were relatively small and heading toward Alliance positions. They were immediately followed by sonic booms that indicated the craft were traveling at supersonic speeds. Teresa turned and called out to the watchtower off to her left.

  “Sergeant, who is that?”

  The marine swung around a double gun mount and tracked the objects. A second marine checked something on the computer and then looked back at her.

  “Three Maulers coming down from orbit. They are IFF tagged from Ticonderoga.”

  Teresa smiled at her Captain.

  General Rivers.

  “Looks like the General can smell the change. Get ready for his arrival. He’ll be here in less than a minute.”

  The Captain saluted and moved off to prepare the ground staff for the imminent arrival. At the same time a young lieutenant, a man clearly keen on making a good impression, was shouting to marines. In just a few seconds, a hastily assembled honor guard of marines moved out and lined up. All of them wore almost completely unblemished armor and carried their carbines on improvised slings on their shoulders. Teresa finished sending a set of orders to the local patrols via the tactical battlefield projector and then looked back.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at them.

  A corporal, the unit's leader, looked at them and then to her. Teresa shook her head in disbelief at the site of the heavily defended Bastion, with its mixture of dugouts, thick walls, and watchtowers. There were three reinforced landing platforms and waiting next to them a line of marines. The absurdity of the situation almost made her laugh.

  “Uh, Sir?”

  Their armor betrayed them as new arrivals from the fleet. It wasn’t the marines' fault. Teresa could see they were uncomfortable being made to stand out in the open, with no consideration given to cover or protection. Teresa moved closer, but not too close.

  “Are you trying to draw attention to the arrival of somebody important? Contrary to popular opinion, the machines aren’t dumb. Are you looking to get one of our commanders assassinated?”

  The man shook his head nervously.

  “No, Colonel, my apologies. I just…”

  Teresa lifted her hand.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Corporal. Get back to what you were doing.”

  The sound of the Maulers became louder as the formation moved overhead. Teresa walked off to the right and away from the landing pad that had been cleared specifically for craft up to Mauler size. The three Maulers traveled in a wide, rather loose formation as they came in low. Each of them began to fire off flares in arcing patterns around the landing site. These small devices were a simple defense against potential heat tracking weapons, but as the first Mauler came in, there appeared to be no signs of enemy action. By the time it was twenty meters off the ground, the other two had begun to accelerate away into a circular holding pattern directly overhead. Teresa’s visor automatically activated, sensing the coming dust storm.
Her vision was quickly obscured as the large landing craft came down, with its corner-mounted engines blasting the ground. The screaming sound of its descent stopped, and the cloud of dust slowly cleared to reveal the dark shape of the squat looking craft. A door opened up, and the bright interior light spilled out to highlight the silhouette of a single man in full battle attire.

  “General Rivers, good to see you on the ground once more.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Great Biomech War solidified the Alliance’s presence in the Orion Nebula, or more specifically, around the Helion Nexus. This critical juncture that joined stars and worlds together would prove to be the most significant reason for the violent success of humanity. Not since the gold rush years of early colonization in Alpha Centauri was so much wealth created.

  Orion – The future?

  Prometheus Seven Outpost, Prometheus Sector

  Colonel Pierce watched the screen like a hawk. The enlarged imagery of the forces waiting outside could be seen in a dozen different directions. Most of the images showed the large warships and their weapon systems, but it was the bank of nine screens on the one side, functioning as a mock window to the world, that caught his eye. From that particular vantage point, he had a perfect view of the undersides of the Alliance ships. In the last two minutes, the launch bays of the assault transport had deployed nine military shuttles. These craft, like much of what waited near the station was old equipment. That didn’t mean it was antiquated, but they were certainly not Hammerheads or Maulers, and that gave him hope.

  If the regime of Harrison is as powerful as he says it is, wouldn’t they have full access to the entire military spectrum of war gear?

  He could only hope it meant the support for this transitional movement was poor at best; because if the forces on Terra Nova had general support throughout both the military and civilians, they could expect things to get much worse. He had no doubt the station could defend itself against a small-scale assault, but nothing more. That was what the fleet was for, and right now they had much more important things to worry about in T’Karan and beyond. He looked back out and toward the ships. The shuttles had positioned themselves into two small groups ready to make the journey to the station, but not one of them was moving. He shook his head, looking over to his communications officer.