Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift

by Michael G. Thomas

  “My instruments show that Rift leads right back to that battleship. The others are probably the same, Sir.”

  It was only then he noticed the battle seemed to have slowed. The data from the other ships showed the manned vessels such as the Ravagers had stopped their attacks and were deploying to a position not far from where Admiral Lewis was waiting. He reached for the intercom and selected the fleet-wide channel.

  “This is the Admiral. The enemy fleet is withdrawing and quite frankly, I do not care why. Do not take that as a signal for us to do the same. Rally your ships, reload your guns, and finish them fast. I want every Biomech vessel to be nothing more than an empty shell before these reinforcements can come to their aid.”

  Even Captain Decker appeared taken aback by the order.

  “Admiral, how can we attack them if they refuse to fight? What if they are going to the shipyards to prepare for a full withdrawal?”

  Admiral Anderson walked two paces and pointed to the shapes gathering around the Black Rift.

  “They are not withdrawing. This is a redeployment to hit Admiral Lewis. I am certain of it.”

  He wiped his brow, the tension and stress beginning to show on his face.

  “We might be minutes or hours from the total destruction of the entire Helios System. We have a chance to end this current battle in one swift action. Target the nearest ships and open fire. I want to see them burning. The rest of our ships need to get there fast.”

  There was a moment of indecision, perhaps a struggle of ethics behind her eyes. It didn’t take long before a pair of Biomantas burned through the hull of a damaged Helion cruiser for her to make up her mind.

  “Affirmative, Admiral, we will continue the fight.”

  Seconds later, the primary particle beams released an incredible barrage of energy that struck a retreating Biomanta in the stern. The impact of such energy and at such speed quickly disintegrated the warship and scattered its ruined hull in a dozen directions.

  “Sir, the rest of their forces are rallying at point six-two. They are facing off toward our ships around ANS Explorer.”

  Anderson was busy checking the nearby enemy positions and giving orders to each of the squadrons. He could see the battle had turned, but also how spread-out his forces were. His eyes darted back and forth and then stopped as he watched the formation of ships around Admiral Lewis. Seventeen ships were now in a wide oval dispersion pattern, with the Battlecruiser ANS Conqueror in the center.

  They are throwing themselves at Lewis, one last-ditch assault.

  Even as he considered it, he came to another conclusion.

  Or they are trying to force me to react? What if they want to force me to decide?

  “Incoming signal, Sir. It’s on the open channel. Actually, Sir, it’s on all channels, using Alliance friendly IFF.”

  He looked to Captain Decker at the same time as she turned to face him.

  “On screen.”

  The shape of two machines appeared. Both were bipedal and completely stationary. Behind them was a holographic representation of a star system with shapes moving about. The machine lifted up one hand and then pointed to the holographic map behind it. Admiral Anderson watched it for a moment and then nodded to his tactical officer.

  “Scan and log all of that. Scrape any intelligence you can from it.”

  As he watched the videostream, he moved his hands about the tactical display to send another group of Liberty destroyers to help those trapped in the middle of the ruined shipyard.

  “Warriors of the Alliance,” were the first words he heard.

  He looked back, and the machine continued to speak. There was no translator, and the voice sounded eerily familiar. It took just a few words before his throat felt dry, and he almost choked.

  “I have been chosen to lead the people of Taxxu. I give you thirty minutes for your unconditional surrender, or you will face complete atomic devastation.”

  Admiral Anderson shook his head.

  “I know that voice.”

  The officers continued to manage the space battle while moving the vessels into two large groups around each of the Admirals. The odd vibration rattled through the ship, but with the Biomech forces heavily reduced there was little immediate danger to ANS Warlord.

  “You knew me as Spartan. Now I am warlord for the Machine Gods.”

  Just the mention of one of the most famous warriors in the entire Alliance military sent a shudder through the ship. Even Admiral Anderson felt something akin to pain in his chest at hearing the words. He shook his head and spoke quietly.

  “There’s no chance. Spartan is a hero of the Alliance. He has fought and sacrificed for most of his adult life.”

  “He’s MIA, Sir,” said Captain Decker, “He could have been captured, indoctrinated or brainwashed, somehow? Wasn’t he a prisoner of the machines for months before appearing near Sol?”

  The machine moved much more than the one alongside him, assuming the machine was the one actually speaking. Captain Decker spotted shapes on the tactical display, and two of her more junior officers ran over to point out additional forces creeping through the shipyard.

  “Sir, the rest of their forces are coordinating a massive strike on our forces here.”

  She pointed directly to Admiral Lewis’ ship.

  “He’s outnumbered. Should I change course?”

  The videostream demanded his attention, but there was little chance he would simply abandon his comrades to watch it. A quick glance at the display showed him that Captain Decker was indeed correct. He grabbed the intercom, looking back at the videostream.

  “This is the Admiral. All ships will converge at point six-two to assist ANS Conqueror. Maintain a defensive perimeter and look after our people. All attack squadrons will continue the pursuit of any stray Biomech forces.”

  He lowered the device and squinted as he watched the videostream. By merging his forces, he would create a single block in case they tried anything unexpected. It would slow down the pursuit, but it would preserve his force.

  “Why is he not showing his face? Is that really him? It could be a recording.”

  Not knowing what was coming next was the part that unnerved him. Until the Rift had opened, he would have thrown his ships at the enemy with little concern given to damage or position. Now there was a chance they could do something, and that was something he didn’t like.

  “I know all of your strengths and weaknesses. That is why I was chosen from hundreds of prominent humans. Just as Typhon, Pontus, and the others have served the machines, so now do I.”

  The machine twisted a fraction.

  “I beat each of them in turn, and I am still undefeated in battle. You know me, and you know what I can do.”

  It was simple but obvious. Spartan was known for many of his great battles and struggles, but one stood out amongst them all. The assault on Terra Nova had ended the Uprising, but it had also seen untold destruction in the capital, a place unprepared for a violent ground battle.

  “My orders are simple, and I will carry them out in whichever way I see fit.”

  Those words hit Anderson like icy daggers. The previous characters played a vital part in the civil war that had torn the Confederacy apart, decades earlier. The very idea that Spartan would work for the same enemy was the worst possible news. The machine looked back at the holographic model and made no attempt to hide a thing. It pointed at the shapes of worlds whose position suggested they were Helios Prime and Spascia.

  “Reports from our ground troops confirm they are engaged in attritional warfare on Spascia and Helios Prime, just as planned. Our last ships are preparing to hurl themselves at your fleet in one glorious showdown to show me their loyalty. These are the outcasts, the remnants of those that remained following our exile.”

  Admiral Anderson swallowed uncomfortably at the mention of the word ‘our’.

  “It is their job to sacrifice themselves prior to our return.”

  Anderson looked to
Captain Decker and then to the mainscreen. The number of enemy ships was vast, far more than he could ever hope to defeat. On top of that, the remainder of the Biomech fleet was assembling close to Admiral Lewis at the shipyards.

  How many ships do they have facing Lewis?

  He ran his eyes across the unit and checked the numbers. The remaining Cephalon was under heavy attack by the Byotai, but the Ravagers and Biomantas still numbered nearly sixty plus the numerous fighters.

  Lewis can’t take them on alone. If we don’t assist, he, Explorer, and his entire force will be wiped out.

  “Admiral Anderson, you will be commanding the fleet, of course, and it is to you I speak. You have one chance to end this war and save billions of lives.”

  There was no face, but even Admiral Anderson felt he could recognize something about the way the thing moved. The machine was moving continually as it spoke, far more than was necessary. He looked to Captain Decker.

  “Get me Khan, and fast.”

  She nodded and moved to a nearby terminal.

  “Order your ships to surrender, or suffer the unrelenting vengeance of the Machine Gods. Only together can we save lives, not destroy them.”

  * * *

  Khan walked back and forth in front of his personal bodyguard. Each of the other three sat or leaned on whatever piece of equipment they could find in the port hangar. A short distance away was a single Mauler. The hull was covered in dents, and an entire squad of engineers was busy patching it up. Khan stopped and looked back to the men and women.

  “How much longer? I need to get back to my ship.”

  A young captain, who could not have been more than twenty-two, twisted around to look to him. His overalls were filthy and his face covered in a thick greasy smear that ran from his ear down to his shoulder.

  “Another ten minutes, Sir. Like I said, the last volley breached the outer walls. You’re lucky the round didn’t hit the engines.”

  He went back to his work, and Khan found himself waiting again.

  “What’s the rush, Khan?” Olik asked.

  “It’s not like we even have a mission, right now,” grumbled Knaprig.

  Their leader looked to each of them.

  “The rest of the Black Ships are still out there, waiting at the Black Rift. We need to get back there, ready to go and find Spartan. I’m tired of waiting on this ship, and for what?”

  Olik sighed.

  “Khan, you’ve tried how many times now? The Admiral won’t allow the Rift to be opened under any circumstances, not even for Spartan.”

  Tajt, who had been silent until now, decided to chip in.

  “My great friend is right, Khan. They should have landed us on Spascia where we could do some good. Instead, we’ve left the warriors Spartan gifted us to sit out there with nobody but Olik and Terson to command them.”

  Khan didn’t seem very impressed by this.

  “With Z’Kanthu gone, the others were considering continuing the war alone. On’Sarax was able to persuade them to hold back and to wait. Major Terson has orders to keep them away from the Rift unless they hear directly from us. I just wish I knew what we were waiting for.”

  He scratched at his cheek through his open visor.

  “At least if we get back on Devastation we can prepare the bandon there for the next attack. We still have plenty of warriors.”

  “Don’t forget our friends from Prometheus and Hyperion,” reminded Tajt.

  Khan nodded.

  “True. How their transports have survived this fleet battle, I’ll never know.”

  A light blinked inside his armor, and a poor quality image of Admiral Anderson appeared.

  “Admiral, good to see you. Are we winning?”

  The man’s face was stern, and he simply ignored Khan’s words.

  “The Black Rift has opened, and Spartan is with them.”

  Khan was stunned, and his two comrades could see that something had happened by the expression on their friend’s face.

  “What’s happened?” Tajt asked.

  The conversation continued until finally Khan licked his lips and looked to his comrades. He moved close to them and crashed his arms down on Olik’s shoulders.

  “The Black Rift is open, and Spartan has come through, at the head of the Biomech army.”

  They were all stunned into silence. Khan took a step away and then looked back at them.

  “Anderson needs me in the CIC. Keep on eye on them. I reckon we’ll be needing that Mauler very soon.

  With that, he was gone and running from the hangar and toward the wide passageway that led deep inside the ship. As he moved, he accessed the latest video logs and the live stream sent by the Admiral. An image popped up of machines with Spartan’s voice in the background.

  What have you done, Spartan, you crazy bastard?

  * * *

  Admiral Anderson watched the videostream from the Biomech ships. At the same time a number of urgent messages were coming in from craft throughout the Helios Sector. It was the one being rerouted via the Black Rift control station that he was most concerned about. The entire facility had been abandoned weeks earlier, but the exterior cameras were still active and showing the massed Biomech force that continued to grow by the minute. He looked at the machines, taking in every detail. The leader kept opening and closing its hand, as though nervous or trying to grab something. At the same time, the other arm scratched at the metalwork of the forearm.

  Wait, that was Spartan’s missing arm. Wasn’t it?

  The rest of Spartan’s announcement continued, but he found himself drawn to the body language rather than the words. It went on for almost half a minute, and by the time the machine had stopped speaking, the entire CIC was silent. Each of the officers watched the shape but said nothing.

  “Thirty minutes or watch the atomic destruction of Helios Prime. I will rain fire down upon this world with radiological weapons. When I am finished, the entire planet will be rendered barren. My shock troops will then arrive in the millions to annihilate any survivors.”

  He paused, letting the dreadful consequences sink in.

  “Terra Nova will follow, then Centauri Prime, Earth, and onwards.”

  Admiral Anderson looked to Captain Decker once more.

  “Where is he?”

  “On the way. Admiral. He says he needs to see the video feed.”

  The ship vibrated, and one of the displays flashed white and then stopped working. A number of sparks rippled off to the right, and a pipe tore from a bulkhead and struck a young Marine guard.

  “Three Biomantas have worked around the wreckage and are hitting our flank,” said Captain Decker, “They are trying to keep is away from ANS Conqueror.”

  “You know what to do, Captain. I need the fleet together and fast. How long until we can help Admiral Lewis?”

  “Eleven minutes to clear the third shipyard spoke and the wreckage.”

  Admiral Anderson’s mind was far from the few remaining Biomech ships, though. The Rifts that had been forming were of much greater importance. Worse than either was the fact that a great warrior, and a personal friend, appeared to have sided with the enemy in the most desperate of hours. He glanced at the Captain who was busily arranging for fighter cover as they headed toward Admiral Lewis. Confident all was taking place as he had planned, he returned to the dreaded mainscreen where Spartan was still speaking.

  “I have four hundred advanced ships filled with warriors, and hundreds more just waiting for their orders to join us. You have no chance here, Admiral. Your forces are weakened and separated. Even now, our ships have isolated a fraction of your fleet and will soon destroy it. With one word, I can order them back.”

  The image of the machines vanished and changed to one of the transports. Inside waited legions and legions of warriors. Thousands per ship and each crammed in tightly. The footage quickly flashed back to Spartan.

  “I have twice your number and over a million fresh warriors. Make your choice. Will it
be genocide or peace? You have thirty minutes.”

  It looked as though the transmission would end, but instead it stayed with the three machines. Admiral Anderson began to move away when Spartan spoke one last time.

  “I have sent you a small gift, something to help you understand the gravity of this situation.”

  The videostream cut off, and the view changed back to a wide view of the Biomech fleet. A barrage of objects rushed out from the largest and most prominently positioned ship in the fleet. The objects moved at increasingly fast speeds toward the Rift. Captain Decker didn’t check with anybody else and went to issue orders.

  “Forget it,” said Admiral Anderson.

  “We don’t have a ship anywhere in range of the Helios Prime Rift.”

  She looked to him.

  “How do you know that’s where it’s going?”

  He nodded to the tactical display just as the objects vanished from the forces waiting at the Black Rift. The delay from Helios Prime was a matter of minutes, but the local Rift allowed much quicker communications. In seconds, the revised data arrived to show the missiles dropping down to the southern hemisphere of the planet, well away from the Alliance strongpoint.

  “Just pray those missile strikes are random.”

  Even as the space battle around the Micaya Shipyards continued, the eyes of the senior officers aboard ANS Warlord were on the satellite feeds from Helios Prime. The missiles were already through the atmosphere and heading for an already devastated part of an industrial facility and habitation zone.

  “Population prior to the invasion was upwards of nine million,” said Captain Decker as she read the figures showing on the nearest screen.

  She then turned to look at Admiral Anderson with eyes that seemed to be almost blaming him for whatever was about to happen.

  “Current estimates are five to ten thousand, the rest are deep underground. The surface was eradicated during the orbital bombardment.”

  “Sir, five seconds,” said the tactical officer.