Star Crusades Nexus: The Third Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  "Admiral, the coordinates sent to Khan are for that ship, the one that is similar in configuration to the Arks, just massively bigger. It will take days to destroy it, assuming we could even get through in one piece."

  "It's true," explained Khan, "The plan is working, sort of."

  He looked to his tactical officer.

  "What can you tell me?"

  The man breathed in deeply. On the mainscreen a Crusader was ripped apart by the combined fire from twenty different Biomech ships. Admiral Anderson watched the destruction and shook his head bitterly. It was only then that he understood Khan's words.

  "Plan, what plan?"

  The tactical officer interrupted his question before Khan had time to respond.

  "It's big, Sir, very big. Approximately five times larger than the Arks we've seen before. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of ships moving in to protect it."

  Admiral Anderson licked the corner of his mouth.

  What have I just done? We've entered the Lion's den.

  The communications officer looked back at him.

  "Admiral, contact from the enemy ship. It is Spartan."

  The very mention of the man's name sent a chill through the CIC. The ambient noise levels dropped substantially.

  "Put him on."

  The image appeared, but rather than the external feed that showed him and other machines, this one was dark and from the interior of some sort of armor.

  "Admiral, it’s true. I’ve infiltrated their command ship. We have identified their weakness."

  His face vanished, but it wasn't through jamming. It was a change in the lighting, and it took a moment for the computer to match the brightness levels.

  "Z'Kanthu came with me. He transferred a part of him to me, to wake me when the time was right."

  The Admiral shook his head and lifted his hand.

  "Uh...wait. What?"

  Spartan frowned.

  "He is inside their Core and trying to get me a physical location, but his time is short. If we want to end this, we have to strike now. Hard and fast, right to their heart."

  Instead of answering Spartan, he turned to Khan.

  "We've lost hundreds of ships, thousands of lives, and the enemy are being advised by Spartan. Now you tell me this is a plan?"

  Khan look unsurprised at his response.

  "They had to believe they had turned him. He killed the rebel leader and has been grinding down our last fleet. All of this is to bring us to this one point, one where the machines feel they have brought us to the brink of destruction. At our point of weakness, we will be able to strike.”

  Anderson did not seem very impressed.

  “Z'Kanthu promised he could protect us from their influence. We should act before we lose the fleet."

  Admiral Anderson could see the logic, but his mind was overwhelmed with a sense of betrayal and loss of control. He needed information to win battles, and right now he felt the outsider. He scratched at his head and looked back to Spartan.

  "I cannot win this space battle, and if I try and come through, I will lose most of what’s left. Tell me you can do something?"

  Spartan smiled.

  "This ship, it is called Kha’Dri, and it is the last of what they call their World Ships. Z'Kanthu says there is a Core inside, similar in design to the one we found on Terra Nova. When their people reach the end of their lives, they transfer their minds to the system. It is their most prized possession. There are also the mortal bodies of their commanders, including their six leaders and the commanders of each of their battleships."

  “So?”

  “There’s more. The soldiers on the battleships, they have not been given a place on this station. First they must be victorious; that means they can operate outside of the influence of the command structure.”

  Admiral Anderson watched as his tactical officer tagged those ships as they talked. Four of them were already showing as making it back to this part of space. One had been captured, and that meant the other six must be on the other side, probably ready to come through.

  “Admiral,” said Spartan, his voice beginning to sound desperate, “This ship contains thousands of machines, their Biomech Soldiers they call Ghost Warriors. Each time they are destroyed, the Core can simply activate more, and control it with the mind of one of those encased. It is their last and strongest line of defense. They have me here because there is nowhere more secure."

  "And you want us to assault this fortress, with the small numbers we have left?"

  Spartan nodded.

  "Yes, because we have the trump card. We have a man on the inside, and I don’t mean me. You need to hit this place and fast. They are already calling in biologicals to defend it, millions of warriors, each constructed from their fallen kin and captured enemies. We've seen these enemies before, Sir, back on Prime in the war."

  Spartan blinked and then whispered.

  "Z'Kanthu has found it. He has just sent me the coordinates for their Core. Meet me there, Admiral, and bring everything. We cannot hold back on this one. He says he will initiate a general disconnection from the Core. As soon as this happens, all of their commanders and any warriors on this ship will lose control of their machine bodies. They can transfer back in seconds, but it will buy us a small window."

  His image vanished and then came with a crackle.

  “Ten minutes, Admiral. Start the clock…now.”

  With that, Admiral Anderson was left alone, with nothing but his junior officers and the images of Major Terson, Khan, and General Makos.

  "Well?"

  General Makos spoke first.

  "I was suspicious of this change with Spartan. My people have faith in him. We will attack."

  Major Terson nodded in agreement.

  "We will die out here whatever happens. At least this is a chance to end the war. I say we hit them, and with everything we have left."

  The last word came to Khan.

  "Spartan has made himself the villain, our greatest enemy, so that we can win this war. We cannot let him down. I will not allow it. I and all my kin pledge to fight with him, or we will die in the effort."

  It was unanimous, and for the first time in days, even as starships continued to explode around him, he actually felt calm. He looked to Captain Decker.

  "Prepare for boarding operations. Take us there. I want the guns of the fleet locked onto their battleships. When the counter hits zero, we will open up everything we have on them."

  He pointed on the tactical display and at the large shape in the heart of the growing enemy fleet that orbited the dead husk of a world, known only as Taxxu.

  The doom of our people will be decided there, around a dead world and on a fortress filled with the dead.

  * * *

  Kha’Dri, Taxxu, Uncharted Space

  Spartan had already chosen his weapons from the massive metal racks on the one wall. All it had taken was to press the stumps of his Ghost Warrior into the unit and to select the required weapons. He chose the short blades he'd used so successfully already. The guns were a temptation, but in his experience, the armor in the machines took too long to eliminate with simple gunfire. He did select the blades with attached cannon though, even if they were little more than secondary weapons.

  More like it.

  He was at the doorway and leaving the armory when the first of the suits began to close. He watched as one by one the armored shells hissed shut. In seconds, the first that had moved took a step out of its enclosure. Like all of the Ghost Warriors, it was little different to Z'Kanthu or any of the other great machines. They were all large, thickly armored, and yet subtly different. Two more stepped out, moving and shuddering as though getting used to their bodies.

  Oh, this is good. Are you kidding me?

  The machine controlled by Z'Kanthu faced toward him.

  "I will hold them back."

  Spartan reached out to what he considered his friend, even if it were little more than a virtual presence.r />
  "You will be destroyed."

  "No, this is just a machine. I can reactivate other machines, until they find me. Hurry, Spartan, I will do what I can both inside and out of here."

  Spartan struck the machine and then left the room. He rushed off in the direction given to him by Z'Kanthu. As he made it to the end of the next passageway, he looked back for one last glimpse and immediately regretted it. Z'Kanthu had blocked the doorway with his body, and the machines were busily ripping his limbs apart. The sound of an energy blast rippled through the ship, and he stumbled. There was nothing left of the machine or those fighting to move past him. He took a step away and then spotted more of them dragging away the wreckage. He knew he should keep moving, but the sight of them sent pangs of hate through his very bones.

  I had to work for them, to kill for them.

  He lifted his arms and sent the command to fire. Pulses of blue energy flashed out from both limbs and struck the nearest of them. He continued shooting until the machine was a shattered, half melted wreck.

  Move! Z'Kanthu said.

  He went deeper into the ship, avoiding the growing numbers of sentries and defense systems. Passages ran into rooms, and then into massive compartments full of powerplants, manufacturing equipment, and even half assembled ships. On he moved and toward the image in his mind, the great chapel in the heart of the ship.

  Not much further.

  He reached a long hallway; dozens of machines flanked it on both sides. The vaulted ceiling was again build from a half-biological looking spine. Ribs ran down and connected to the sculptures in a sickening fusion of metal and flesh. Off into the distance was a semi-translucent entrance to a cathedral like structure.

  That has to be it.

  Spartan turned and ran past the first of the sculptures. Shapes moved, and he quickly spotted hatches on the high levels opening up. Machine emerged. Some were Ghost Warriors, but many more were variations of the horrific Decurions. Hundreds of machines scuttled out from their hiding places or detached from the very walls. Intricate sculptures and artworks moved and came to life. As before, Z'Kanthu spoke to him from inside the machine he sought to defeat.

  It is the Core. They are taking control of their machines. We are running out of time. They are looking for me, Spartan.

  He moved as quickly as his metal body would allow. Directly above him was a beautifully intricate dome that gave a view of the Rift, presumably the one back home. Black shapes were silhouetted against its colors. Lines and streaks from hundreds of ships jumped about as a vast battle lit up this sector of space.

  The fleet, they came.

  Something struck him, and he found himself on his back. He shook his head and looked up at the ancient forms of a group of six machines. They were Ghost Warriors that much was certain, but the armor was different, embellished in ways far beyond his experience. Dozens more Ghost Warriors moved around them, each armed and equipped in a similar fashion to Spartan.

  "Who the hell are you?" he asked, angrily.

  "Spartan, the traitor. You will suffer an eternity of agony for this," said one of them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The last stand of Captain Carter on the world of Eos is one of those events that few known of. The details were hidden and the involvement of all but the Captain. Few details are known, apart from the fact that this one small stronghold held off an entire army until the enemy ceased their assault. The losses on both sides were heavy, but the resulting battle saw the Biomechs isolated and almost entirely destroyed. Less than ten percent of the attackers left Eos under close guard, and Captain Carter and his polyglot unit moved on to even greater and more famous engagements.

  Accounts of the Prophecy of Fire

  Battleship Retribution, Taxxu, Uncharted Space

  Khan remained motionless as the ship buffeted about on its approach. He wasn't sure which part had been worse, the fighting on the enemy battleship, or this approach to the enemy fortress. The ship had already sustained heavy damage, but with On'Sarax and three of her kin, they had managed to take control of the vessel. Major Terson waited next to him and watched the massive holographic representation of where they were in space. The sound of small arms fire continued to echo throughout the ship.

  "How will we get inside?" Major Terson asked.

  Khan turned his head a few degrees to look at the man.

  "Oh, this one is simple. We'll make a hole and step inside."

  For a few seconds the Major was confused. Then he realized exactly what Khan was saying. He shook his head in amazement.

  "Really, that's your plan?"

  Khan began to laugh, and soon Olik was doing the same.

  * * *

  Kha’Dri, Taxxu, Uncharted Space

  Spartan was trapped inside the armor, his limbs attached via thick magclamps that pinned him to the wall. There was still power to his secondary functions, but only so that he could see, no more. He was far from the ground, suspended directly above a great holographic orb that showed the battle. Around this great sphere stood the six machines, each resplendent in their armor. They spoke, but none of their words made any sense to him. Further away, he could see hundreds more in their machine bodies moving about and managing the ship. Decurions marched in formations, some even carrying firearms attached to their bodies. It was like a wasps’ nest, filled with dangers. And here he hung, incapable of doing a thing.

  A few hours ago and I understood it all; things change fast around here.

  "Hey, you!" he yelled.

  One of the machines, the one that had struck him, looked up and said something. The others made odd sounds, and they looked back to the orb. Spartan shifted.

  The remnants of the Alliance fleet and their allies were nearing the Kha’Dri. The heavy warships took the lead positions, with ANS Warlord and the captured battleship Retribution taking the van. Crusader and Conqueror class vessels followed right behind, and squadrons of Liberty destroyers hugged their flanks. All friendly fighters had been pulled in close to provide a tight escort for the final assault of the war. Biomech ships moved in around them, but for a few minutes at least, they had been granted a relatively clear run to the enemy vessel.

  As the fleet reached a range of a hundred kilometers, the fortress' defensive system activated. Thousands of turrets opened fired with a mixture of missiles, shells, and particle beams. Spartan watched impotently as the weapons blasted the fleet apart with more firepower than he had seen in his entire life. A different machine looked up to him.

  "Traitor, you have failed. Watch the end of your people."

  One of the Byotai ships, a beautiful, organic looking craft moved to the flank of the fleet. A line of shells chased it and tore off a wing in a colorful flash of materials. They were close now, so close that some of the ships were big enough to make out the windows or gun ports. Another vanished in a flash.

  "Just a few more minutes, and your fleet is gone."

  Thirty seconds, Spartan.

  Flames and streaks rippled across the two nearest vessels. Both were massive, at least battleship class, and they approached like a pair of oxen pulling a cart. Spartan tugged and struggled, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not move.

  Spartan, are you ready?

  Spartan almost cried out at hearing the machine.

  "Bet your ass I am. We have to do something, anything."

  They have nearly found me. Prepare yourself. I must throw them off my scent, and yours. I have one last gift to give you. Call to me when it is time.

  His voice faded as he finished the final words, and Spartan knew this might be the last time he would hear from the old machine. The onboard systems in his armor activated, and he could feel the augmented limbs straining at the magclamp.

  Okay, that kind of helps.

  There was a sound from the machines below him. It was a panic, as though something terrible had happened. Spartan looked down to them and noticed the six machines were in something of a daze. A crackle of energy ripped thr
ough the ship, and the lights dimmed.

  Odd.

  He looked off into the distance and found the same with the large numbers of Ghost Warriors. Some continued to move, but many had stopped, with quite a few toppling over. Then every single machine stopped, apart from the six leaders. That was the moment he noticed the guns were offline.

  You crazy fool, you've bought us a window.

  Spartan wasn’t sure how, but it was obvious the ancient warrior had managed to temporarily sever the connection between the minds in the Core and the machines in the ship. Spartan’s mind raced ahead as he realized that would also include the leaders on all of the battleships, the command vessels for the Biomech fleet.

  Thank you, Z’Kanthu, that’s the window we need. Leave the rest to us.

  Explosions filled outer space, and he was convinced he could see two of the mighty Biomech battleships exploding from long volleys of gunfire. Light caught his eye, and he looked to the great wall of curved glass. It was shaking, and then the shapes outside struck it. The material shuddered, then shattered. Blast panels rushed down to seal them in, but the top superstructure of a Biomech warship crashed through, and Spartan found himself flying through the air uncontrollably.

  Great, here we go again.

  * * *

  Spartan opened his eyes. He was alive, that much was clear, but what else was happening he had no idea. He shook his head and lifted himself up. There was still gravity, but the armor showed the atmosphere had been vented into space. He realized he was on the ground and between the six machines. All of them were functional, and each was pointing weapons at him. Hundreds more of their warriors were scurrying about.

  Great, they are back in control.

  “Spartan, the betrayer. We offered you immortality and you destroyed Z’Kanthu, for what? Tell us what did you do? How did you breach the Core?” demanded the nearest.