“No,” Kahn said in a firm voice, “the T’Kari Raiders only fired on us when we shot at them. They killed one of the creatures that was heading for us.”
The other two marines paused for a moment as they considered this piece of information. Spartan was especially surprised as he could only remember trying to shoot them, but he had no doubt in his mind of what Khan had seen.
“Maybe they were aiming for us instead?”
Lovett moved his head back a few inches in surprise.
“T’Kari making targeting errors, are you serious?”
They were interrupted by the sound of gunfire somewhere off in the distance. Shouting followed it, but the words were unintelligible. Spartan looked at the ground, desperately looking for his weapon.
“Everyone, arm yourselves. This doesn’t sound good!”
They spread out, examining the damaged equipment and broken bodies of the Biomech creatures to find their missing equipment. All but one of the rifles were quickly uncovered, leaving just Porter unarmed. Spartan unbuckled his pistol and tossed it to the injured man.
He caught the gun in his left hand and pulled out the magazine, checked the ammunition, and then readied the weapon. It made use of the same technology as the coilgun carbines used by the rest of the team but slimmed down into a pistol-sized weapon. He’d heard of the weapon, but as far as he was aware, they were only just out of the testing phase and not even ready for Alliance special forces.
“Nice piece,” he said quietly, while wondering how Spartan had obtained it.
The sound from inside the ship continued but maintained a similar level of volume. Spartan looked to both Khan and Lovett. They looked equally confused at the level of noise.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Spartan.
Khan stepped away from the wreckage of their previous fight and looked further down the corridor in the direction of the gunfight. He turned his head around and threw back a smug grin.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Spartan agreed and bent down next to Porter, indicating for Lovett to move closer. The man was evidently drugged and slightly confused. Spartan tapped the panels on his left arm, and a hatch opened to reveal a status indicator. It was designed for medical diagnosis and confirmed the suit had pumped in the correct levels of painkillers.
“Hey, Porter, it doesn’t look so bad. I want you, Lovett, and the other three to secure this area. Wait until we get back, understood?”
Porter nodded weakly to his commander, his eyelids fluttering as he did his very best to stay awake. Lovett, on the other hand, looked frustrated at what he had just heard.
“You want us to stay back and wait? What if you run into trouble?”
Spartan smiled grimly.
“If Khan and I can’t handle it, then we have seriously big problems. I’ll take Isamu as well. He’ll be handy if things need blowing up.”
The young operative grinned at the comment but not sure if it was actually intended as a complement. Spartan leaned in closer to Lovett so that only he could hear his next words.
“If something happens to us, it will fall to you to get the rest out alive. I’m counting on you.”
James Lovett, the APS operative, friend, and former marine saluted back in style to which the two of them were most familiar with. Spartan straightened up and returned the salute. It was a simple gesture, but to the other operatives it marked the distinction between those that worked together and those that had served together in the past. Only Khan, Lovett and Spartan could claim that bond at this time. Spartan looked to the others and moved off into the corridor. Khan stomped alongside him, his massive feet crunching on the ground, and his weapon at his waist but ready for action. Isamu almost had to jog to keep up. The corridor appeared to run the length of the ship and included narrow doorways at fixed intervals on both sides that led to a variety of different rooms. Isamu moved off to examine the first pair of doors. There was a surgery on one side, and on the right lay a small medical bay with a dozen beds. They were both empty of either people or equipment. He looked over to Spartan and Khan.
“Empty, nothing in either of them.”
They pushed on and past a set of security rooms. These were of more interest and while Isamu and Khan guarded the corridor, Spartan slipped inside one of them. It was shaped almost like an upturned mushroom, with lockers and cases fitted to the curved walls. There were empty weapon racks and an observation station that appeared to be nonfunctional. One light flickered on a console, but as he reached out to touch it, the light flashed three times and went out.
Weird, he thought, surprised.
Spartan moved back into the corridor and was immediately taken aback by the sounds coming from no more than fifty meters away. It was the unmistakable howl of Biomechs as they stabbed and thrashed at an unseen foe. Lovett and Isamu were already tucked behind the nearest bulkhead, with their carbines trained in the direction of the sound. Spartan kept low, checked his weapon, and then looked in the same direction. About three more doors along the lights were all out, but there were black shapes moving.
Your visor, you fool!
He activated the setting, and the visor dropped back down, along with its plethora of readings from the suit’s inbuilt sensors. Just a quick selection with the retina-based scanner tool allowed him to select the different imaging modes. Thermal quickly picked up body shapes, but when he overlaid infrared, he could see a confused but terrifying image. A group of the Biomech creatures was busy thrashing away at the shapes of four humanoid warriors.
“Uh, Spartan, are you seeing this?” Lovett asked.
He must have been using the same vision modes as he quickly spotted the shapes out into the distance. He pointed with one hand, and Spartan concentrated his vision on the four humanoids. At first he had as hard time identifying them, due to their thermal signature being effectively camouflaged, presumably with technology of some kind.
Who the hell has that kind of equipment?
As soon as he thought it, he knew the answer.
“It’s got to be the T’Kari, maybe the ones we saw earlier?”
Khan took aim with his weapon but didn’t fire. Spartan watched for only a few more seconds before satisfying him that the T’Kari were truly in combat and that it wasn’t some sort of ruse.
“Okay, we move in fast and clear the area. Do not engage the T’Kari unless fired upon. Understood?”
The two nodded in agreement and as one, the three of them covered the short distance toward the battle. As they moved nearer, it became obvious that the humanoids were fighting a losing battle. One was either dead or badly wounded; the others were falling back and firing short bursts to keep the creatures back. They moved so fast that by the time Spartan had opened fire, they were almost back to where he was standing. The gunfire from Spartan and Isamu took chunks out of the first Biomech and sent it crashing to the ground just as it was lunging for one of the alien humanoids. The other three jumped to the sides and accelerated toward Spartan.
“I have this!” shouted Khan.
He emerged from the cover and with his right arm lifted, aimed directly for the creatures. Unlike the carbines used by the other operatives, his was attached directly to him armor and benefitted from both the stability the suit offered, as well as the larger capacity magazine that fed from inside the armor. With a bright flash, he filled the corridor with mag rounds, aiming directly for the creatures’ torsos. Although the others carried on shooting, it was the continuous and accurate fire from his gun that brought down two of the beasts. The third managed to get close enough to leap at them.
“Get down!” cried Spartan, and both he and Isamu rolled to the side to avoid the monstrous thing. It lashed out but only Khan remained, and he refused to give ground. It landed directly on top of him and twisted his arm to the side to avoid the gunfire. He staggered back but incredibly managed to stay upright.
“Burn, you bastard!” he called out, dropping down on his left leg t
o move his center of gravity. The two pushed against each other, but Khan was by far the most skilled. He finally managed to upright the creature so that it lost its balance and collapsed onto its side. Khan ripped out a savage weapon that looked more like a medieval mace than anything more complex and brought it down hard against the thing. With a splatter of blood and gore, he killed it but continued striking; making absolutely certain it was dead. He stood up to check on his comrades.
“Spartan, you alive?” he called out, with barely a breath out of place.
The other two APS operatives emerged from the dark sides of the corridor, both covered in blood from Khan’s savage and violent assault. They kept their weapons raised though, aiming them directly at the three standing T’Kari Raiders. Spartan moved in front of them and lowered his weapon, lifting his left hand in a submissive gesture. The Raiders looked at each other and spoke several words before also lowering their firearms.
“Well, this is interesting, don’t you think?” he asked sarcastically.
The six stood in silence, each looking at their opposite numbers and probably thinking exactly the same thing. Isamu had never seen their kind up close before, but both Khan and Spartan had on several occasions, not least when they’d fought alongside them on Hades nearly two years earlier. Though identical in build to their kinsmen throughout New Charon, there was something very different about them. It took a few seconds before Spartan realized their armor was scored and marked from attacks. At first, he assumed it had been from the battle, but the more he looked, it was clear the damage had been caused over time. Their armor was dark grey or black, and none of them carried T’Kari issue weapons.
“What do we do?” asked Isamu.
Khan stood out in the open, his mace in his hand still dripping blood onto the floor. The Raiders looked at each other once more. One lifted his hand and beckoned for them to follow. He turned and walked away with the other two directly behind him.
“Well?” asked Isamu.
Khan looked to Spartan with bemusement.
“Follow them, but don’t get too close. They may not be great in hand-to-hand, but they are damned fast, and they might have friends down there.”
They followed at a safe distance, keeping their weapons low but doing their best to not look too threatening. They moved past a number of doorways until finally reaching a set of three wide airlock seals. The leader of the group said something to Spartan, and then did something with his hand on the door. It hissed and all three hatches unscrewed to reveal the lavish interior of a starship. Dozens of screens, computers, and equipment filled the interior but appeared to be completely empty of people. The Raiders moved inside and made directly to the front where the curved black wall showed line after line of green text. Spartan stopped and examined it carefully. He’d seen the T’Kari writing before, but none of this made much sense to him.
“Where are we?” he asked.
Spartan forgot for a moment that these particular aliens seemed to lack the knowledge of their kin with regards to conversation with other races. Again the leader said something and moved its hands over the computer units. A number of sounds flickered through this part of the ship and other displays powered up.
“Spartan, do we want to be here?” asked Isamu with trepidation.
With a flash, the dark, curved wall changed to the ink blackness of space. At first it was as if the wall had vanished, but Spartan had seen this technology plenty of times before.
“Don’t worry. It’s either a projected display or the outer skin can make itself transparent.”
He tried to sound confident, but with every sound his hand kept moving toward his carbine that hung loosely on its sling. As he watched, his eyes adjusted to the light, and he could see hundreds, then thousands of dots from the stars that surrounded them. A haze like the gas of a nebula filled the lower half, and a group of gray shapes to the right resembled a shoal of fish. It took a few more seconds to realize that it was in fact a formation of ships.
* * *
Teresa waited inside the CIC of ANS Crusader with a look of disbelief on her face. The rest of the crew went about their duties as normal, but there was nothing normal about the fleet assembled in front of her. In her decades of military service, she’d witnessed many war fleets; most of the time when being shipped to another battlefield on board a Marine Transport, such as the venerable ANS Santa Cruz. Teresa Morato was present during the epic space battle around Prime back at the start of the War. Her body still winced at the memories of the injuries she sustained while landing under fire on the Titan Naval Station. Even so, the sight of such an armada of Alliance warships, civilian transports, and a small group of T’Kari ships was something she’d never before seen.
“This is supposed to be a peaceful expedition?” asked Gun with amusement.
Teresa turned an eye to him, noting the self-satisfied expression on his face.
“Gun, you don’t have to come,” she suggested mischievously.
“Why not? Hyperion is running just fine with the chiefs in charge. I could do with a little action.”
“What makes you think there will be action?”
Gun nodded to the assembled ships.
“You think they are all there because we are expecting an easy ride. Trust me on this one. Helios is not going to be as simple as they say it is.”
He then pointed to the Crusader class warships.
“If you ask me, the Alliance has a plan, and they aren’t keeping us in the loop. You’ve heard the rumors of Biomech ships like that Guardian ship the T’Kari destroyed in the Rift.”
He leaned towards Teresa.
“I’ve heard that others ships have been spotted moving in and out of this part of space.”
Teresa exhaled slowly, almost sighing at his words.
“Come on Gun, you know better than to listen to the gossip on this ship.”
Gun raised his eyebrows in amusement.
“If you say so.”
Teresa was still surprised at how his use of language had altered over the years. She remembered him back when they’d first met as enemies on Prometheus. He and a small group of his kin had turned on the Zealots and their masters and helped them to escape. He’d only known a few words back then and had carried a massive Gatling gun strapped to his arm. It had earned him the moniker Gun and it had stuck ever afterwards.
“We’re meeting on Hades within the hour for a full briefing with the General and the main T’Kari and Alliance commanders. Maybe we’ll learn a little more then?”
Gun shrugged at her, evidently unconvinced at her suggestion. She looked back at the assembled fleet and gazed at the powerful lines of the many Crusader class warships. They were large and filled with weapons and marines. It sent a shudder through her body as she recalled her own experiences when forces of this size were assembled. Then she thought of Spartan and tried to imagine what he could possibly be up to. That directed her thoughts to their venture since leaving the Marine Corps, the APS Corporation. As they were leaving, she’d had a short but angry conversation with the remaining board members. Almost all of them were looking to dump their shares. It had been painful, but their actions had made it much easier for her to cut her links with the company. She’d handed over control of the major assets still technically belonging to the company to the Alliance before relinquishing control. Those still working would be given the option of leaving with a modest financial package, tempting offers of work as contractors for the military, or enlistment with a bounty. She suspected the older generation would take the money.
I wonder what Spartan would think.
Based on those she knew, she was convinced the majority of the combat operatives would choose direct NCO entry to the Corps after a short retraining interval. It wasn’t ideal, but she kept telling herself that any other decision would have left them in a much worse position. Gun looked at her and knew she was thinking about the recent events prior to leaving ANS Beagle. The XO of the ship approached them
both.
“Commander,” he said while nodding to Gun and then looked to Teresa.
“Major Morato, it’s good to see you back in the Corps, and your promotion is well deserved. You have served the military and the Alliance with honor and dignity,” he said firmly and then tried his best to give a friendly smile. “Back where you belong.”
Teresa recognized the honesty in his voice; there was genuine warmth. For a woman in her forties, it was quite a feat to be back in the Corps. It wasn’t unique, of course. Many former marines had re-enlisted, but she was returning with a promotion from her final rank as Captain nineteen years earlier. Spartan had left as a full Colonel, but neither was ever likely to get much further. Teresa realizing her mind was elsewhere, returned her glance to the XO, and saluted him.
“Thank you, Sir. Has there been any news of where I am to be posted?”
The XO shook his head.
“No, sorry, Major, you will need to speak with the General on Hades. He is making a few changes. There are rumors the Jötnar Battalion may be reinstated. A concession I think to keeping the peace and also finding your mercenaries official work. Something tells me they are worried your people may get bored with the PMCs being culled.”
Gun nodded happily.
“Yeah, would you rather have us on your side or waiting about for somebody with a cause?”
The XO couldn’t tell whether he was joking. The Jötnar leader had grown in intelligence and wit over the years, to the level that the XO actually felt he might be a better officer than some he had met on his own ship; such was the Commander’s military skills and knowledge. He decided to treat it as a joke.
“Very true, I’ve seen your people in action many times before. I thought it was insanity to disband the Battalion to start with. Still, there will be plenty of unhappy people when they hear the news.”
Gun clenched his fists in irritation.
“They can always fight their own battles, if they have the stomach for it.”
Machine Gods (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 2) Page 8
