“What’s going on?”
The voice of Khan was loud enough that she could hear him over the sound of the buffeting of their descent. Two more control vanes ripped off, but finally they were at a more reasonable speed and heading towards the surface on a long, arcing course.
“We’re heading for the drop zone. Make sure you’re ready.”
No sooner had she said the words, the guns of their pursuers opened fire. Three of the solid slugs penetrated the skin of the left engine and sent chunks of metal flying out behind them. The dropship immediately lurched to the right and started to roll.
“Hold on!”
With incredible skill and precision, Kanjana rolled the craft around until back on course, and then made a subtle correction. Shots punched past the dropship on both sides, but only a handful managed to tear holes in the rear. Warning lights flashed, telling of yet another component that had failed.
“Let’s see how you like this.”
Three buttons was all it took to open two hatches and begin an emergency fuel dump. One of the six onboard self-sealing tanks emptied itself into the sky. As the last drop was released, she hit the countermeasures release. Six micro-flares blasted off in a star pattern behind her, and a cloud of flame engulfed the sky. One fighter banked away, but the second must have been covered in the fluid because it caught alight immediately and spun down out of control.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
How many stories have been written in the past concerning the rise of a robot army? So many, that it even getting basic armed drones into combat would prove almost impossible in the Alliance. Not even the promise of stringent protective measures would allow full autonomous robots onto the battlefield. Instead, a bizarre hybrid system would have to be developed to allow central control of these machines, or for them to operate in a swarm configuration around a host. Could machines of the future somehow acquire intelligence and self-awareness? Alliance scientists say no, but the general public will not support it, not at any cost. For now, there must always be a man in the loop.
The Robot Army
Maglev Rail Network, Khagi District, Karnak
Ogimà Nakoma could see the smoke column off into the distance. Even as she watched, she could see the dozens of Hornets moving in on the destroyed train system. She started to smile, and then spotted columns of smoke to the right. The expression on her face changed in an instant, as the ground vehicles of the Red Scars moved to join her. A dozen aircraft hovered over the ground vehicles to provide air cover. They could just have easily detached so that they could attack the train, but instead were staying as one cohesive unit.
“How far away are they?”
The pilot of the small aircraft looked back over his shoulder.
“They will be at the train in twenty minutes, perhaps eighteen.”
Takosk, I will end this before you can begin your meddling.
She connected to the commanders of all of her aerial units.
“This is Ogimà Nakoma. The mercenaries must be stopped, and quickly. I am offering a reward of a year’s salary and a promotion to those that bring me the head of any of the enemy combatants. They must be dealt with personally; they cannot be allowed to escape.”
She wiped the saliva dripping from her lower lip. The one thing worrying her more than anything was that they would bombard the train, and then days later find the mercenaries had escaped. If she failed, her punishment at the hands of Tahkeome would be too terrifying to comprehend, and even worse, her own clan would suffer, perhaps even being cast out or broken up.
No, not this time. I owe it to the Spires to succeed. We will live, or die as one.
She looked at the pilot and the controls, and could see the screen showing the position of all of her kin. The spherical mapping unit gave data on their positions as well as their heights. Most important, they were all heading in one direction, right at the smashed train.
“Failure is not an option. We outnumber then fifty-to-one. I will execute any soldier that abandons the field.”
She let that sink in for a moment. It was an old style of punishment, and one she had little doubt she’d need to use. In any case, she had to make sure her soldiers were suitably motivated to the battle. A message arrived from one of the scouts on board the nearest Hornet.
“Ogimà, one of the mercenaries is moving from the train wreckage.”
Ogimà Nakoma’s expression was already dour, but the idea that one of the enemy might escape was enough to push her over the edge.
“Then remind them that they cannot do this! No explosives, guns only! I want to see the bodies.”
The bright glow from the aircraft engines increased in intensity as the advanced war machines zoomed into position. At the same time, the passengers aboard moved to the sides of the craft and took aim with their accurate long-rifles. Sprung mounts hung down for them to rest the weapons for better accuracy. Then the pilot looked back again.
“What is it?”
The pilot looked positively nervous.
“Our forward supply base at Armant reports multiple aircraft on approach. Then the signal vanished.”
Ogimà Nakoma turned her head a little.
“Armant? That is a small mountain watch post. We passed it on the way from Montu, six guards and a single landing platform. Why would...”
Then she remembered, and her expression turned from surprise to anger. The Byotai lacked the aircraft for any kind of attack, and certainly the capacity to mount a rescue operation in the mountains.
We have a few prisoners there. We have been betrayed.
“Should we turn back to help them?”
Ogimà Nakoma’s brow tightened in frustration.
“No, nothing will stop us completing our mission.”
At the same time, all she could think of was the face of her rival, the warlord of the Red Scars, Takosk. The man she was now convinced was behind all of her misfortune.
We will succeed here, and then I will deal with Takosk, personally.
* * *
Spartan woke up, not to the sound of voices, not even the sound of engines. This time it was the clatter of heavy weapons as a pair of Hornets circled overhead. At first he could barely see them through the smoke, but then found his visor was open. A single mental decision commanded the armour to close it up. The overlay immediately combined vision modes so he could easily look through the smoke. He lowered his stance, his M-3B armour barely making a sound.
I see you.
The craft passed again, and a fusillade of small arms fire erupted from their flanks. Spartan lifted his carbine up, took aim, and then stopped. He could see it was his last clip, and he was down to a third charge.
“Damn it!”
“Problem?”
Spartan turned around and found he was staring into the bloodied face of Gun. He carried a pair of long-rifles, no doubt taken from the fallen enemy soldiers. One had been damaged to allow him to use it, the other he tossed to Spartan. With just his left hand, Spartan caught the weapon and lifted it to his face.
“Thanks. I’m saving my last power cell for something special.”
In a quick movement, he swung the prototype carbine to his flank and raised the long-rifle to check the sight and ammunition capacity. General Daniels pointed to the sky.
“Kanjana has been in touch. She will be here soon for the extraction.”
Spartan raised an eyebrow.
“Extraction, here?”
Gun howled and pointed to the aircraft.
“Here they come!”
General Daniels turned away from Spartan and clambered over the wrecked carriage to get a better look. It gave him a high vantage point, as well as reasonable cover. Like Spartan, he carried a looted rifle, and he positioned it on top of the carriage. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. Shortly afterwards a single body fell from one of the aircraft.
“Nice shooting, General.”
The two aircraft kept out of range, hovering so those on
board could aim with more accuracy. Daniels continued firing at them with carefully considered shots. Further along the train, Syala ran back and leapt behind broken metal. Even as she landed, the gunfire from one of the aircraft crashed around her.
“Get them?” Spartan asked.
Syala lifted her arms triumphantly and dropped two more rifles and six packs of weapon stores on the ground. As she slid into cover, the gunfire from the Hornet aircraft continued. Incredibly, not one managed to strike her, though they made a mess of what little remained of the train.
“Will this help?”
Spartan deactivated his visor for just a moment and gave her a wide grin.
“Good work. Damned good work.”
“Spartan!” General Daniels yelled.
All four of them looked out from the shattered train and off into the distance. Dozens of trails marked the positions of multiple aircraft, and they were moving fast and low.
“Ours?” Daniels asked.
Spartan had already altered the focal length on his suit’s lenses and was watching the approaching vehicles. He could see the markings on the side, but it was the passengers that surprised him.
“Hell, no, they’re bringing in soldiers...a lot of soldiers.”
He pointed off at the shapes.
“Good,” growled Gun, “that’s exactly what I had in mind.”
Spartan grabbed one of the ammunition packs and climbed over the wreckage, moving away from them to the right and in the direction of the enemy. He stopped behind a row of six large rocks large enough to hide a figure even as big as Gun.
“Spartan, what are you doing?” asked the General.
Spartan’s armour was already shifting in colour to match the muted tones of the rock, as opposed to the metal of the train. He placed his rifle on the ground and opened up the pack. Inside were eight clips for the long-rifle. He looked over his left shoulder to the others.
“I have the camouflage and armour. I’ll hold the perimeter and watch your flank. If they get past me, you’ll finish them off.”
Gun made to join him, but Daniels grabbed his arm.
“No. You’ve not got armour, old friend. Leave him. We’ll hold the train.”
Syala whipped out her backup sidearm, checked the magazine, and slid it back in its holster before speaking.
“Yes, I’ll be here, too.”
Gun still focused his attention on their distant enemies. The Hornet aircraft had regrouped into a single large formation and were no more than twenty metres off the ground. Beneath them hung the shapes of cloth-covered soldiers, each with the drop backpacks to help them land. Only three of the Hornets remained away from the group. These were the ones circling directly around their position.
“Wait until they’re close, real close,” said Gun.
His voice was firm, almost grim. Yet for all the peril they were in, he gave the impression he was almost excited at this entire prospect. Three green flashes announced Spartan was firing, and two managed to strike the nose of the nearest aircraft. The magnetically contained projectile punched through the thin plating as if it were wet tissue, causing a series of explosions that ripped it apart.
“Not bad. I thought he was saving his ammo?” Syala said.
Gun laughed and began counting out as he watched the soldiers closing in on them. The aircraft were staying well away from Spartan, for good reason. They were lightly armed and designed more for scouting and raiding than direct combat. He stopped counting and looked to the other two.
“I count over two hundred soldiers, and they are coming this way.”
As he looked back, the first began leaping from the aircraft. The pinpricks of light from their thrusters were all that betrayed their positions as they fell to the ground and moved in at a jog. Dozens hit the ground, and as each aircraft emptied its cargo, it turned away to provide long-range fire support.
“Good,” said Syala, “I’m getting bored waiting.”
She took aim with her rifle and watched a squad of six clambering over a long ribbon of razor sharp rocks. They had a mixture of long-rifles and machete type blades in their hands. Each was covered in the sand colour cloth, giving them their nomadic look, but she had little doubt they were heavily armoured underneath.
Time to die.
A thunderclap overhead forced them all to look up. A tiny black shape wreathed in flames flew across the sky like a comet, warning of something even more terrible to come. Then came the first volleys of gunfire. Spartan and Syala opened fire at exactly the same time. Their long-rifles were simple, yet surprisingly accurate. Both struck target after target, but even after five soldiers had been killed, they were no closer to beating off the attack. Three more Hornets came in low and behind the rocks to the right. Spartan took aim, but they were hidden from view. When they lifted back up, there was no sign of the soldiers inside.
“We’ve got a flanking group on the right, twenty plus ground troops.”
He moved carefully to the right and leaned around the boulder. Three rifle shots struck his position, one glancing off the side of his head, leaving a deep gouge in the metal plating. The impact was enough to knock him back several centimetres before he righted himself. Spartan looked for signs of the soldiers, but they were being smart and using the liberal amount of rocks and the undulating terrain on the flank to get closer. He suspected they were no more than fifty metres away. Two appeared, and the helmet overlay tagged them immediately.
Big mistake.
He’d already changed to the long-rifle. He fired three shots, but only one made contact before the second soldier dropped down to safety.
“Spartan, we’re coming to you, are you ready?” came a familiar voice.
“Kanjana, good, about damned time.”
The soldiers appeared from cover, but this time moving from each side and as a wave. Two were knocked down by sniper fire back in the train, but the others surged out, ignoring casualties and firing their rifles from the hip. Spartan hit two and ducked back to cover.
“You’re not at the rendezvous,” Kanjana said.
Spartan sensed an accusing tone in her voice.
“You don’t say. Track my location. We’ve been derailed. Literally.”
There was a short pause, one long enough for him to pick up a new rifle clip and turn his fire back on the soldiers. Some of them were making a break for the engine at the front of the train. There was scattered wreckage between the rocks and the track, more than enough for the Spires soldiers to make his job more difficult. He picked off two more, and fire from the train forced the rest into cover.
“Alert!”
It was the armour, a simple proximity warning. Spartan reacted instantly and twisted about as one of the Anicinàbe warhounds leapt over the rock and dropped down on him. He lifted his weapon, but even he was too slow.
“What the...”
The heavy beast knocked him to the ground and grabbed his left arm in its vice-like jaw. The creature dug its back legs firmly to the ground and proceeded to yank and tug at the armour. Spartan lifted his left foot and jammed his boot hard at the creature’s head. It barely made an impact.
I’m not going out like this!
He reached down for his sidearm. The creature released its grip for a second and lurched forward to rip the weapon from his hand, snapping it in two. A squad of soldiers moved past his cover to his left. Sensing this was his only chance; he rolled to the right with the creature in pursuit and grabbed his carbine. Fire from Gun and Syala knocked down two of the Spires soldiers, but more were coming from both sides. Soon his position would be lost. The first looked as surprised as him when they looked to each other.
“Not today, pal!”
Spartan lowered the carbine and pulled the trigger. The pulse of green struck the soldier in the jaw, punched through his skull and out through the back of his head with a foul hissing sound. It was a guaranteed kill at this range, no matter how bad a shot he was. Something pulled at him, and he stumbled. The wa
rhound creature leapt back over the rock as he fired and was replaced by the face of another Spires soldiers.
“Surrender!” said the soldier in a thick accent.
“Bad timing, pal!”
Spartan pushed the barrel of his carbine so that the muzzle touched the soldier’s mouth. He pulled the trigger, and the headless corpse vanished from view. The other Spires soldiers pushed past the body with their weapons out and firing. Some shot towards the train, but two fired continually at Spartan. Multiple rounds struck him, and at least one breached the chest plating.
Not good.
He staggered back, one round after another hitting him. Alerts sounded, and he had no choice but to roll over the rocks behind him for cover. Blood trailed on the ground from his wounds, but the stimulants and drugs in the suit pumped directly into his body to keep him going, for now. Further back, the other three were busy firing into the mass of Spires soldiers coming in from three directions.
“Help him!” Gun yelled.
Syala was the nearest to Spartan, and once she loaded in a new clip, looked for him. Her armour communicated with Spartan’s own system, but only to share basic Friend or Foe data, as well as a secure communications channel.
“I’m on it! Spartan, keep your head down.”
She rose out of cover and was immediately hit by a pair of rounds. The high-velocity slugs embedded deep into her customised armour, held back only by the reinforced collar and neck armour. The power of the attack knocked her back down. She tried to scramble over the ridge.
“No, get back here!”
Gun dragged her out of the line of fire, using nothing but brute force to yank her away. She yelled and screamed, but a burst of shots hit where she’d just been, and that seemed to calm her for the time being. Gun rolled her over and reached for the damaged section of armour between her collar and chest.
“Hey, that’s private!”
Gun shook his head.
“Females!”
* * *
“Ogimà Nakoma, your attack is failing. I have reports that explosions in your supply base have allowed Byotai prisoners to escape.”
The words struck like a lance to Nakoma’s chest. Her immediate thought was that Takosk must be behind the explosions. There was no way the Byotai could have struck that hard and fast without help. She opened her mouth, but her rival continued to rage. Warm air blasted inside the aircraft, increasing in temperature as every minute went past. The single star was now easily visible and cast long shadows against the ground.
Lords of War (Star Crusades: Mercenaries, Book 1) Page 26
