Machine Gods (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 2)

by Michael G. Thomas

  Teresa pointed at her secpad.

  “Even so, it doesn’t matter. Look.”

  They examined the display and watched as one of the squad opened an external hatch, and they pulled themselves through the open space and inside the vessel itself.

  “Where the hell are they?” asked Captain Llewellyn.

  Like all good NCOs, Gunnery Sergeant Hacket knew his surroundings well. More so, than it would seem the Captain had given him credit for.

  “That is one of the outer service chambers. It’s to allow for maintenance work outside the sealed sections of the ship. If they have the right security access codes, they can get through to the outer door control station off to the right.”

  Teresa smiled as he explained the layout of the ship.

  “Exactly. If they are smart, they will have an entire squad in position to hit the boarding part in the flank and cut them off from escape to their vessel.”

  As she explained their plan, the two squads in the hall itself had pushed ahead nearly two meters. Her secpad showed four more casualties, but there was an equal number of T’Kari KIA as well. Even so, the enemy was regrouping around what looked like the carcasses of two marine fighters. There was an open killing ground in front of it that would make reaching them nearly impossible. To make matters worse, they had brought up a heavy weapon and were putting down considerable automatic gunfire.

  “Look!” said Hacket.

  The side door to the hall slid to one side, and out emerged marines, each with their weapons raised to their shoulders and moving silently. A tall man led them and used hand signals to move them into position. Eight made it before they were spotted. The marine dropped his hand, and they each fired. The close ranged firepower from an unexpected position caught the T’Kari completely by surprise. Five were cut down instantly, and the survivors were forced to move back toward the corner of the hall. Those that had been pinned down pushed ahead, securing the position from where the heavy gunfire had been coming from. In seconds, the three squads merged together into a wide line and pinned the T’Kari into the last quarter of the training hall.

  “Well, it looks like they’ve done it,” said a surprised Captain Llewellyn.

  “Not yet,” answered Gunnery Sergeant Hacket.

  They watched, as one by one the T’Kari raised their hands and then lowered their weapons. Each moved from cover and toward their waiting foes. The marines lifted their weapons in apparent pleasure at the victory and cheered. Additional marines entered the hall, some fully armored, others less so. There were even three marines still in their underwear, carrying nothing other than their firearms.

  “The fools!” muttered Teresa as she watched them commit their biggest mistake.

  Gunnery Sergeant Hacket lowered his head and looked to her, nodding in agreement.

  In the middle of the celebration, the marines from ANS Crusader who so far had played the part of the T’Kari so fearlessly, turned on the marines. They rushed at the nearest enemy, proceeding to punch, kick, and wrestle with whomever they could reach. By the time the newly arrived marine reinforcements knew what was happening, the entire hall had degenerated into a massed brawl. Teresa sighed at the sight and tapped a button on her secpad. The lighting activated, and the training hall lit up bright blue as the lights increased in intensity. At the same time, she connected with the sound system and spoke directly through the secpad.

  “End of exercise, cease fire!”

  Most of those fighting stopped, but nearly a dozen continued the life or death struggle with their fists and feet. Teresa was forced to call out once more before the other marines intervened and stopped the scuffle.

  “Marines, return to your quarters. You will receive your assessments directly from your unit commanders.”

  Before looking to the small group with her, she watched the marines down below. Most were leaving, but it was the shape of the tall marine that had led the squad outside of the ship that interested her the most. She finally turned to Captain Llewellyn.

  “Who is that?” she asked, pointing at the figure.

  “The tall marine?”

  Teresa nodded, but the Captain said nothing for a moment. Teresa looked back and watched with surprise as the marine removed his helmet, revealing long, flowing red hair and a darkly tanned face.

  “Ah, that’s Corporal Arina Nova,” he said slowly.

  Teresa watched the tall woman as she spoke to the marines about her. She was easily the height of the tallest men in the unit and moved with the authority of a marine with years of experience.

  Interesting.

  She looked to Gunnery Sergeant Hacket and then to the Captain.

  “I like her. Send her and the NCOs from her squad to meet me in the ready room.”

  Hacket saluted and marched from the room, leaving just Teresa and Captain Llewellyn at the observation point.

  * * *

  Teresa brought up the list of potential promotions on the desk in front of her. The electronic display was built into the surface and gave the impression of a paper-based system. She looked back to her secpad and dragged each of the dossiers she was interested in from the small units and onto the desk. As each one landed, it expanded to show greater detail as befitted the space available on the desk. She was flanked by Gunnery Sergeant Hacket and Lieutenant Pollock from logistics, who was responsible for the record keeping and administration of the unit. A knock came at the door, and after replying, it opened to reveal the Sergeant currently on guard detail.

  “Sir, Corporal Arina Nova.”

  Teresa nodded, the boredom of the last two hours finally starting to shift. She’d been working through pages of promotions, and this was the first one out of the ordinary.

  “Good, send her in.”

  The Sergeant saluted and stepped back outside. In walked the tall, beautiful Russian women. She looked even grander close up than she had at a distance, and for the briefest of moments, Teresa was taken by surprise and said nothing. She looked back down at the woman’s dossier and checked her details. She was twenty-four, yet had only join the Marine Corps a year ago. Her background was colorful in the extreme, with reports of several violent incidents on Prometheus, as well as three moons. Teresa suspected a troublemaker, but she wanted to see for herself. The Corporal stood firmly to attention and saluted Teresa who returned the gesture.

  “As ease, Corporal,” she stated, nodding to the chair in front of the desk. Arina sat down and looked directly ahead to Teresa. Her face betrayed a calmness that didn’t suit her age or background.

  “Your dossier makes for, well, very interesting reading,” said Teresa.

  “Thank you, Sir,” replied the Corporal.

  Teresa did her best not to smile at the comment and continued.

  “Even so, your background doesn’t interest me in the slightest. What does interest me is your ability to lead marines. I can see that you have only recently completed your Marine training. Your aptitude tests are off the scale, yet trouble seems to be following you.”

  Teresa paused and then stood up. She walked around the table to the side of the woman. Even though Arina was sitting down, she still almost reached the short height of Teresa.

  “I am reorganizing this Battalion. Those with the right skills are being moved into units more appropriate for their skills. I saw what your unit achieved in the scenario, and you’ve demonstrated the level of aggression and leadership that is perfectly suited for a role in my assault platoons.”

  Teresa looked at Arina, again noticing the calm approach she maintained, even when being questioned by her superior. Teresa leaned in closer.

  “1st Platoon, 1st Company, is the best unit on this ship. Even so, the unit was stripped in the scandal and has left me with few commanders. It is in need of a sergeant. Somebody with the fire, leadership, and skills to lead the best the 17th has to offer. It is my intention to make the 1st Platoon of the 1st and 5th Company in the 17th as an assault unit, just like we did back in the Uprising. V
anguard armor is available and underused right now; that is going to change. I want the entire 1st Platoon trained and ready to use it. Any ship used by the 17th will always have access to at least one strong assault unit.”

  Arina was impassive, but Teresa couldn’t tell if she was deliberately trying to stay calm, or if this was simply the way she normally behaved. She looked over the young woman and couldn’t but admire her physique. She was tall, muscled, tanned, and could easily have been an athlete or dancer. She wasn’t thin or scrawny like many of the female marines, and if it were not for her ample bosom and long red locks of hair, she could easily have been mistaken for a lightly built man.

  “Well then, Corporal, are you interested in playing a more important part in your Battalion?”

  Arina looked at her with a glimmer of pleasure in her eyes.

  “You want me to command 1st platoon, 1st Company, Sir? I’m just a new marine, Sir. I’ve not even seen combat yet.”

  Teresa looked at her, registering the honesty in the woman’s eyes.

  “I was an exotic dancer with debts and problems when I joined the Corps. In less than a year, I was in combat on the Titan Naval Station. You learn fast in the Corps, and people with your skills and leaderships abilities are few and far between. This Battalion is just as new as you, Corporal. You will all grow up together.”

  She waited for a moment and watched the Corporal as the news sank in. It took just a few seconds before the woman was nodding and seemed to accept the gesture for what it was. Sensing the change, Teresa decided to move to the details.

  “Okay, you will operate under the command of Lieutenant...”

  She paused as she checked her documentation. The administrative clerk leaned over and whispered.

  “Lieutenant Glouise River, Sir.”

  Teresa looked at the officer with irritation. She didn’t like being spoken to in such an off-hand and casual manner, especially when in front of new marines she needed to command.

  “Yes, Lieutenant River. Do you think you can manage that? It will mean teaching your skills to the three squads of marines. You will maintain the discipline of the unit, help with their training, and advice the Lieutenant.”

  Corporal Arina positively glowed at the news.

  “Sir, it would be my honor. Why me though, Sir?”

  Teresa nodded politely.

  “Good. Well, you’ve demonstrated command skills, initiative, and aggression. I need all of these things but especially for 1st Platoon. We might be the newest battalion in the Corps, but I intend on making this the envy of every battalion we have. 1st Platoon will be the best trained in this unit, and I want you to make it happen. Choose your corporals wisely and get them drilled.”

  Arina sensed it was time to leave and saluted smartly before leaving the room. As she marched out, the Lieutenant from logistics made a motion to speak. Teresa ignored him and instead turned to Sergeant Hacket, a man with whom she seemed to have developed something of a rapport.

  “Your thoughts?” she asked him.

  Hacket snorted as he considered his words. He was an old pro, unlike most of the marines of the ship and had reservations about all the new marines in the Battalion. He looked to Teresa.

  “She’s got spunk, I’ll tell you that. She’s tough, and can lead. But there’s something else.”

  Teresa looked into his eyes, but it was like looking at the head of a shark. His dark, merciless eyes betrayed nothing.

  “She wants it, and badly. If you’re after an assault unit, I reckon she’s the best we have.”

  It was a simple confirmation of what she was already thinking. Teresa didn’t expect the unit to somehow transform overnight from four hundred raw marines to an elite unit, but she did expect them to work hard at it, so when the time came, they would come through alive and victorious.

  “Good. Now let’s sort out tomorrow’s schedule. I want to work on their hand-to-hand combat skills, and I think I know just the person for that.”

  Sergeant Hacket looked at her with amusement. He knew she was talking about Commander Gun, the giant in the Battalion, and the one warrior he knew even he couldn’t bring to the ground; at least, not without trickery or fancy weapons.

  “Major,” he said slowly, “I like the way you think.”

  Teresa smiled, and for a brief moment forgot about her worries with her family and the mission to Helios. Right now it was just her and her marines, and for the first time in a long time, she felt at home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The death of Admiral Jarvis took place prior to the founding of the Alliance. Yet the cult of her leadership and sacrifice became entrenched in the Alliance Navy. The founding of the Admiral Jarvis Naval Station at Terra Nova was part of the growing tradition. Even those who had never seen the commander of the Confederate Navy knew her by the graduates of her Academy, and the continuing reminders of her final battle in the names of colleges, ships, and memorials.

  The Fall of Admiral Jarvis

  The approach to the large space station took almost two days, much longer than Spartan could ever have expected. When they had arrived, the station looked just a few hours away. In reality, the moon-sized structure was much further away. To make matters worse, they were forced to approach on minimum power, coasting to the target rather than accelerating and alerting those already present. They had drifted to the station, along with the multitude of debris that moved throughout this part of the system. Over that time, the mixed assortment of T’Kari and humans had thoroughly mapped the structure, as well as the positions of the machines that had been detected on the surface. After navigating through the ruined dock of the station, the T’Kari Raider had taken up a position only a short distance from one of the long abandoned industrial loading platforms.

  Spartan and Khan stood on the landing ramp of their shuttle and looked back to the shape of the T’Kari ship waiting over them like a sentinel.

  “Spartan, we’re good here. I’ll have the shuttle brought aboard and prepped in case you need a hot extraction,” Lovett said over the intercom.

  Spartan waved in a kind of mock salute to the ship and looked out into the ruins of the station. Tuke, the leader of the T’Kari Raiders stood alongside them and gazed upon the ruins of his people’s old colony with a completely expressionless face.

  “Are you sure they built this?” asked Khan. There was wonder in his voice.

  It was rare for Khan to feel anything like this for such a place, but even he couldn’t deny the grandeur and sheer scale of it. The basic shape was like a gigantic ring, hundreds of kilometers in diameter. From the outside when viewed from their ship, it had shimmered with a silvery color. Now that they stood upon its solid foundations, they could see the inside was actually dark gray and gloomy. Where fields, plants, and gardens had once stood, there were now featureless spaces of masonry, metal, and rubble. Very few of the buildings remained undamaged, and broken armored suits and equipment from a war fought long ago still remained; as if every warrior had been sucked away from the station, leaving nothing but their equipment behind.

  “This was the site of the last battle for dominion of this place,” Tuke explained.

  The shuttle ramp slid back into the small T’Kari craft, and just as quickly as they had arrived, it lifted itself up and moved back along a pre-determined path to their ship. It had been Spartan’s plan to keep the shuttle on the ship, but as Khan watched it go, he started to feel trapped on the uninhabited station. Spartan remained silent, but Khan then looked to him. He had a question forming on his brow.

  “Who won?” asked Khan.

  Spartan watched him, noticing how Khan always became more animated at the description of the greatest battles and struggles. In many ways, the warrior was more like a child, though over the last two decades he’d changed substantially. Even so, the rage was always just below the surface, and it was important to remember he was barely older than his nineteen year old son.

  Just like Gun, Spartan laughed inwardly, thi
nking of his old friend back home.

  Tuke lowered his head in shame.

  “Nobody won here. We fought until just a few hundred remained on each side. The climate, air, and power systems were shattered, and the Biomechanical creatures used on both sides had killed almost all the civilians. We agreed to a truce and turned our backs on this place.”

  “And you never came back? Not once, in two hundred years?”

  Tuke nodded.

  “When we left, the others collapsed the Rift. Another way in would have to be found. Over time, the details for many of these tunnels in space were lost. Some by accident, other deliberately to keep our people safe.”

  Khan pointed to the part of the station almost seven kilometers away. A shattered spire pushed up from the surface, and a large vessel waited nearby. It was different to any of the ships they’d come across so far, roughly the size of an Alliance frigate. It was stationed almost half a kilometer from the station, yet from this distance looked massive.

  “What about them?”

  Spartan looked in his direction.

  “Yes, I think we managed to make it here undetected. Now we just need to get close enough to see who they are and what they are up to.”

  Tuke beckoned to the right.

  “There is an underground transportation system two hundred meters away. It is just below the surface and will keep us out of their sight. Not that they will be looking for us.”

  Khan grinned.

  “Yeah, why would they?”

  The three walked through the ruins of the station, each glancing at the myriad of bodies and equipment littering the ground. Spartan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such devastation. The lack of a viable atmosphere had kept the place in a state of almost perfect preservation, all of this time. They wore their fully sealed armor and carried firearms at the ready. A wide ramp led to the underground section and blackness. Even so, there were a number of dim lamps, perhaps enough to light a quarter of the underground structure.