Machine Gods (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 2)

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Bravo and Charlie teams hold your positions. Alpha, keep moving.”

  Teresa moved her eyes slightly to check on the status of the other two groups of operatives. The second vehicle had deployed its four Jötnar unit to the doorway recently entered by Gun. Two moved inside a few meters while the other two took up their posts on the outside. Teresa nodded in satisfaction and then looked over to Charlie Team. They were at the second entrance but had stopped and were looking around it.

  “Charlie One, what’s the problem?”

  “The door, it’s been sealed from the inside,” came back the gruff sound of the team’s leader.

  Teresa scratched her forehead as she rechecked the overhead plan of the compound. According to the data supplied by the T’Kari, these were the only two surface entrances on this side of the mountainside. There were other shafts, but the next was six kilometers away.

  “Understood.”

  Dull yellow flashes danced about her screens around the broken and burning equipment.

  “Ambush!” growled Alpha One, and the video feeds from each of his squad blurred. At first Teresa almost panicked, but it was nothing more than the Jötnar moving quickly. They spread out and returned fire with their modified coilguns. Bright blasts of energy slammed into dark shapes that looked out among the compound.

  “Omega, it’s an ambush!”

  It was her codename and one chosen for a number of reasons, not least because of her stern attitude that she’d adopted in the company, and the fact she was the last link in the chain of command. There was nobody higher than her in APS when on operations. She’d only returned to combat operation in the last six months as their finances suffered in the drought of work. Even so, Omega was the designation she often used in these operations, and she was starting to like it.

  “Bulldogs, keep them busy!” she said in a calm and controlled voice.

  The two crews in each of the small vehicles altered their positions slightly to ensure the lighter armored rears of their Bulldogs were places away from the gunfire. Even as they moved, the turrets on each tracked around and opened fire with a devastating roar. Any of the Raiders arrogant enough to move out of cover was instantly shredded.

  “Thanks, Omega,” said the Jötnar leader of Team Charlie.

  “Secure the site, Bulldog Three will follow you for support. We don’t need any more surprises.”

  Just ten meters inside the underground compound, and Gun was already feeling in his element. He moved quickly but not too quickly. Gun and his people had spent many years hunting the stray creatures on their jungle world of Hyperion. They were fast and smart, frequently outwitting their hunters. He’d seen a good number fall to ambushes or traps laid out by the smarts ones. Of the Jötnar that survived such ordeals, each would become wiser, stronger, and more useful to him. As he rushed down the tunnel, he continually panned from side to side, looking for signs of traps, hidden enemies, or concealed weapons; another fifteen meters further inside, and he was rewarded by a small shape on the left. He stopped, and the other three Jötnar halted and took up defensive positions. They took aim with their military issue coilguns, and one turned around to cover their rear.

  “Alpha One here, I have a defense mine. They must have left it on the way down.”

  “Show me,” Teresa replied from the Bulldog on the surface.

  Gun shook his head and leaned in closer to the object. He made sure not to move too close though, just enough to get a clear view to show those topside.

  “Yeah, that’s okay. Our data show that as a T’Kari shredder. You know what to do.”

  Gun nodded, reaching down to his right thigh. Fitted to his armor with Velcro tabs were a number of circular plates surrounded by ceramic teeth. He grabbed one and pulled it from his leg. Gun then reached out and fitted it onto the end of his coilgun and twisted to clip it to the muzzle. The weapon instantly recognized the fitment of the device and changed to a blank blast projectile. He took aim at the device on the wall.

  “Clear!”

  With a firm pull on the trigger, the coilgun sent a low power magnetic block to the muzzle, striking the back of the plate with a thump. The plate in turn discharged a sticky filament web that enveloped the device and instantly froze solid. Immediately after firing, the plate detached from the barrel and fell to the ground. The weapon flashed on the readout and changed back to conventional projectiles.

  “Pacified,” he said under his breath and then moved on.

  The tunnel continued for a short distance further before reaching a large open hallway. The walls were smooth and metallic, and overhead a number of yellow lights cast a sinister glow over the whole area. At the far end was an arched entrance leading out into what appeared to be a large open space.

  Teresa continued, “Alpha Team, that’s good progress. The archway leads to the plaza. Our data from the T’Kari says that it is about the size of a freighter hangar, with buildings and paths around the internal structure. The habitation areas are interspersed with the commercial zones. Be careful.”

  Gun moved ahead until he reached the archway. He peered through the opening and into the plaza. It was lighter than he’d expected. Bodies littered the ground, and the sound of gunfire was much louder. About twenty meters away stood a large bipedal machine. Near to it were a dozen of the Raiders in their dark, battle scarred armor. Another group of Raiders appeared in the far distance, and between them they dragged a dozen T’Kari civilians, some of who were not even in the suits Gun had always seen them wear.

  Interesting, he thought with wry amusement.

  “Dead T’Kari and Raiders here,” his nearest comrade said.

  Gun threw him a quick glance. The Jötnar was about to lift one of the bodies to check.

  “No!” he snapped back in reply.

  Gun was no ordinary Jötnar. He was the first of his people to fight against his creators. Now he was their leader and the most revered of all the Jötnar. When he spoke, his people listened. The Jötnar operative instantly removed his hand from the body and bowed down gently.

  Gun looked at him intently but kept his voice low, “Good. Mines under bodies are a classic. Waken learned that the hard way Terra Nova.”

  He looked back to the arched entrance to the plaza.

  “So I hear.”

  “Omega, we’re going in!” he said in a calm voice over the intercom.

  “Affirmative.”

  Gun leapt out from the entrance and into the plaza. Now that his vision was cleared of obstructions, he could see the damage wrought by the Raiders. Small numbers of bodies lay scattered, and although most were armored, he suspected they were thorough attackers. The great machine in the middle somehow spotted him and turned around. It roared something in an unrecognizable tongue, and in a flash the Raiders were rushing to Gun. He didn’t hesitate and killed two with his coilgun before they could even reach him. Then he was in the middle of the group and swinging his rifle like a club. His three comrades followed in a wide line. They went to work like a farmer moving across a field.

  A shredder grenade exploded in the middle of the melee, killing one Raider and tearing a leg from one of the Jötnar. He fell down but continued to fight.

  The great machine settled down on its haunches and lifted its clattering arms to defend itself. Gun was unable to shoot before it swung at him. He ducked to the left and grabbed the massive metal appendage as it moved near his face. Even three meters in height, Gun was dwarfed by the machine that towered another meter above him. He was thrown off to his side, and the great beast strode in, kicking one of the Raiders out of the way to reach the wounded Jötnar. Gun shook his head and pulled himself up, but he was too far away to help his wounded comrade. The machine lifted one of its heavy metal feet ready to bring it down on its head.

  “Hey you!” came an amplified voice from the tunnel entrance.

  A volley of high-power coilgun rounds tore at the machine’s head. It staggered back, losing its footing. Gun wasted no time, pulled a
thermite charge from his left leg, and leapt onto the flailing machine. Both arms waved at him, but incredibly, he was able to fasten it to the waist and then rolled off to the side. A bright white flash filled the plaza, followed by a massive heat surge, setting one of the Jötnar on fire. All of them watched in silence as the machine burned and melted from the intense heat of the charge while the reinforcements helped extinguish the fire on the wounded Jötnar. Teresa Morato emerged from the darkened entrance, her coilgun held up to her armor shoulder. Her visor lifted up to reveal her smiling face as the Jötnar rounded up the dozen Raider survivors.

  Gun staggered over to her with an equally please look on his face. At the same time, the T’Kari civilians started to emerge from the safety of their homes and businesses. They all wore the traditional protective suits that looked like lightweight armor, but only a few wore helmets or head protection.

  Two of the Jötnar dragged one of the surviving Raiders over to Teresa. His clothing was more ornate than the others, and embellished with details on the shoulders and chest. Teresa noticed the shape of Echidna, the great, coiled beast, on his right breast. He snarled at her and shouted. She raised an eyebrow at the noise before his translators unit kicked in.

  “The T’Kari are not your friends. They hide Helios from you, and you will suffer for it!”

  Teresa looked to Gun and exchanged a bemused look before turning her attention back to the Raider. She was surprised that the T’Kari turncoat was able to communicate so easily with her. It had taken the T’Kari much longer. It was as though he’d already had significant exposure to her people already.

  “You tell me then.”

  The Raider lifted the side of his mouth up with a cruel smile.

  “The devourer of worlds is coming. It will start with Helios. The T’Kari will be next, then you!”

  He started to laugh, a high-pitched laugh that did nothing to engender sympathy from Teresa. Gun seemed even less impressed and stepped closer still before tapping him on the shoulder.

  “Raider,” he said calmly.

  His fist followed and struck firmly into the Raider’s open visor. It struck his nose with a sickening crunch. He pulled back his hand to reveal gushing blood and a bitter-looking Raider.

  “Take him!” Teresa ordered a newly arrived team of APS operatives.

  “The rest reform your teams. We have a compound to clear out, and according to my scans, there are a few of them left waiting for us.”

  Gun laughed as APS operatives flooded the place, checked the wounded or secured the prisoners.

  “Pah! Cowering in fear more like!”

  Teresa looked back at him and realized for the first time in what seemed like decades, how much Gun enjoyed this kind of violence. It instantly brought back thoughts of Spartan. She shook her head at the idea.

  Those two are much too alike!

  CHAPTER TWO

  The world of Private Military Contractors was shaken apart by the Terra Nova incident of 358CC. A PMC team from Alpha Company assaulted an Alliance Special Operations Group in the middle of a major operation. The blue-on-blue incident resulted in thirteen military deaths and the crash of a civilian aircraft, with the loss over more than two hundred citizens. Cuts in military spending, and reliance upon faceless security companies, started a purge of unprecedented proportions. This took place just a year after organizations, including Alpha Company and APS Corp, took over low intensity security operations throughout the Alliance. The incident brought about a public outcry that saw dozens of contracts torn up and the stocks in these companies plummet. The gold rush years were gone and of the thirty-two security companies, just seven remained a year later, each fighting for the meager work that remained.

  Private Security Directory

  The Alliance Marine Corps squad of four moved slowly through the main access corridor. Leading them was gruff-looking Sergeant Maria Belgard, who moved with speed and aggression in her step. The other four marines carried their L52 Mark II carbines across their bodies as they marched down the left-hand side of the Prometheus Seven Space Station. Navy crew stepped aside to let the security team pass by. From the way they moved, it was clear this was no simple security detail. They were going somewhere in particular, and the fact that they had their weapons at the ready indicated they expected potential trouble. They reached the end of the corridor and split to cover both sides of the thick glass doorway. To the side was a metal plaque that read simply APS Corp. The Sergeant looked to the other marines, and each nodded they were ready.

  “Do it!” she snapped.

  The first marine placed an electronic device over the control unit for the door. It flashed once, and the door hissed open to reveal a small foyer area leading to three rooms and what looked like an eating area. Directly in front of them stood just one man, a three meter tall Jötnar, with thick, muscular arms and a scarred upper body. His head and neck were almost double the size of a normal man, yet obviously still just a man. He was stripped to the waist and evidently not expecting to see the marines. As the five entered the APS Corporation space, he turned and glared at them.

  “What?”

  “Under Title 72 of the Centauri Alliance Constitution, passed through the Alliance Senate seven hours ago, all Private Security contracts, operations, and establishments aboard Alliance military installations are revoked. You will hand over all PMC personnel and equipment to our authority for repatriation back to your civilian headquarters. The Jötnar took in a long, deep breath and then moved a step closer to the marines.

  “Stand down, civilian. I am authorized to...”

  He swung his right arm, knocking the carbine from the first marine’s hand, and then delivered a heavy punch with his oversized paw of a hand. The man was unconscious before he hit the ground, much to the shock of the others. He took advantage of their confusion and grabbed the next nearest marine, lifting him up by his neck. The other two marines jumped forward to help their comrade and to take up his weight to prevent him from being hanged.

  “Do you know who I am?” growled the Jötnar.

  Sergeant Maria Belgard shook her head and simultaneously drew her sidearm from her waist. She lifted the pistol and pointed it directly at his forehead.

  “I don’t care if you’re the President of the Centauri Alliance. I have the authority to arrest any unauthorized civilian on board this station. Now, drop the private and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.

  The side door opened and in walked a middle-aged Hispanic woman. She was short, lightly built, and wearing cargo pants and a white t-shirt. Her face was red from exertion, and both of her hands covered in cloth wraps for sparring. She looked at the scene and then directly to the Jötnar.

  “Commander Gun, drop the marine.”

  Without even a glimmer of hesitation, the massive Jötnar dropped the marine. He hit the ground gasping for breath, and the two marines that had been trying to help their comrade bent down to help him to his feet.

  “I’m Teresa Morato, and this is Commander Gun. If you lay a finger on him, you can expect two things to happen. One, you’ll be dead within the minute. Two, every single Jötnar from Prometheus to Hyperion will turn on the Alliance like the Biomechs did back in the Uprising. We’ve only just got back from an operation, and I have zero tolerance from assholes with ego issues. Are you that stupid, Sergeant?”

  The female marine looked at Teresa carefully. She was aware the senior executive had been a marine in the past. In fact, the exploits of Spartan and Teresa Morato in the Uprising and the years afterwards had become infamous. Though neither had achieved a major rank in the military, they had both been instrumental in ending the War. She had no idea, however, that the woman would be present. The Sergeant replaced her pistol in her holster and indicated for the four marines to leave the room.

  “I apologize, Mrs. Morato. I have to...”

  “No,” replied Teresa in an irritated tone. “My name is Ms. Morato, and you will take me to see Adm
iral Anderson immediately. I’m sure you are aware that to carry out orders such as these requires the full authority of the senior officer on this station.”

  She paused and watched the Sergeant, looking carefully at her body and face for signs of the strength of her position. The Sergeant said nothing.

  “Well, do you have it?”

  Sergeant Belgard looked confused, if only for a second. She was clearly angered at being spoken to by a civilian, but she was also well aware of Teresa’s reputation as both a warrior and a businesswoman.

  “The paperwork has been signed by my Captain, and he is the senior Marine Corps member on board.”

  Teresa turned away a fraction and smiled inwardly. It was a minor victory but a face saving one at that. She’d already seen the news and had sent her data off-site and away from the station. Even so, she’d expected to be contacted privately by the Admiral, not by the rough hand of some jarhead. Teresa noticed the look the Sergeant had when looking at Gun who was standing nearby. The figure of the Jötnar commander was certainly impressive to one unfamiliar with his people, especially as he had become something of a legend in the Alliance. The synthetic giant was famous for creating a sanctuary on the hostile jungle world of Hyperion, much to the consternation of Alliance citizens. Any Biomechs that were captured alive were sent there to be integrated with the Jötnar. With the creation of the Spacebridge to New Charon, the Jötnar had spread to moons and worlds. Even so, even Sergeant Belgard knew that Gun, their most famous leader and warrior, was sacred to them.