Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift (13 page)

“Crap!”

Spartan reached down for the double-barreled pistol and pulled the trigger. Both barrels discharged and punched orange holes through the thing’s chest. It staggered and then collapsed to the ground. The other six aliens continued their individual fights, and in less than ten seconds all of the Thegns were dead. Spartan bent down to the fallen warriors and pulled the curved blades from the hands of the first.

“What are you doing?” Vilusk asked.

Spartan rose to his feet and threw one of the weapons to his new ally. Vilusk caught the blade and swung it a little clumsily in his right hand. Spartan clenched the Katar loosely in his left and began to practice a rapid series of cuts with the Thegn’s curved blade. It moved quickly and made a gentle hissing sound. Finally, he stopped and found the T’Kari and Helion were also there watching him.

“What?” Spartan asked.

The T’Kari looked at him and then the Byotai. Then Spartan spotted the cuts to the alien’s left arm and leg. It was the same for the Helion.

“These warriors are better than the old models.”

The sound of scores of feet caught all of their attention. The wall of Thegns advanced, but this time it was every single one of them. They all lifted their blades high and yelled in unison. The Helion moved to one of the many fallen warriors and took both of the blades. With a flick of his wrist, he cast the second to his T’Kari friend. Both looked incredibly similar, though like Spartan and the Byotai they also wore the gray armored pants and chest armor. Spartan pointed his punch dagger at the approaching Thegns.

“Now, space apart and watch your flanks. One moves, the other protects and looks for openings. No heroes, or we lose this fight.”

They raised their blades and waited in the position Spartan had called, each standing in complete silence and looking at the great horde of warriors. The Thegns let out another howl, and then the first dozen swamped the defenders. Two of the aliens off to the right vanished under a mound of attackers. Spartan shook his head and then focused his attention on his own problems.

“Kill them!” Vilusk yelled.

He swung his blade out in front and caught a Thegn in the throat. It stumbled and fell forward so that two more tripped over the dying warrior. As they floundered, the T’Kari slashed at them and finished them off.

“Three down,” said Spartan.

More moved around their flanks, and Spartan was forced to beat off multiple attacks with his stolen blade. Another came in at his left, but he displaced it with the punch dagger. The Thegns pushed in and struck the Helion so hard that he stumbled and fell onto his back. Through the gap came two more Thegns, but Vilusk stepped out in front of the fallen Helion and held them off long enough for the other to stab and hack at them.

“Keep them busy!” Vilusk said.

The Thegns presented an impenetrable wall of sharp blades. As each of the defenders cut or stabbed, a group of those with mirrored weapons would beat them back. Then for no apparent reason, three of them moved apart and created a channel in the center of the horde. Standing amongst them, and spinning two blades over her head, was a tall woman. At first Spartan thought she was human, but she was taller, slightly thinner, and her skin as pale as alabaster. Her eyes were a piercing black, the exact opposite of her skin, as was her long hair that ran down past her shoulder to the middle of her back.

“Attack!” she hissed.

Vilusk looked to Spartan who gave him the nod. Both of them pushed ahead, and the other two did the same. One by one, they pushed into the breach where the alien female continued to whir about almost like the blades of some ancient helicopter. Heads and limbs flew in all directions until just thirteen Thegns remained. One rushed Spartan and smashed the hilt of its sword like weapon into his face. The strike was hard, and for a second Spartan was completely disorientated. He spun about and then found the weapon arcing about and coming down to his head.

Defend!

He brought up his right arm and parried with his own sword in the nick of time. The blades ran down each other until the thick part near the hilts pushed together. Sparks ran down the blades as the material screamed like fingernails on a blackboard.

“Now you’re mine!”

The warrior took a step back, but it was too little, too late. With an uppercut motion, Spartan stabbed the punch dagger up into its ribs. One strike, two strikes, and then with the third he stabbed it hard into the throat. The Katar was a deadly weapon at this distance and easily punched through the armor, flesh, and bone. He yanked out the weapon and foul looking goo pumped from the wound. It dropped to the floor while Spartan remained on his feet.

“Who’s next?”

Three more Thegns stepped out to block his path, and Spartan simply shook his head and laughed. At the same time, he flicked the Katar so that the congealed blood splattered against their armor. He had no idea if that would annoy or upset them, but it felt like the right thing to do. A loud horn sounded, and the warriors withdrew immediately. Even the nearest that had already lifted its weapon to strike decided to back off. They moved back, each watching the small band of defenders, as they abandoned their dead and dying comrades in pitiful clumps about the floor.

“What now?” asked Vilusk.

All five of them move closer together to form a tight circle. They kept their weapons ready, ever watchful of the Thegns coming back in with their final assault. Then Spartan remembered the weapon. He pulled the lever, snapped out the rounds, and took two more from the bandolier. With a click it snapped back together, and he thrust it back, loaded and ready for the fight. Lights flickered in the distance, and then the machine appeared. It was only one, though Spartan did recognize the model. It was smaller than the rest of the warriors, but still a substantial machine. He estimated it was about half a meter taller than Vanguard armor, but unlike the tech used by the Alliance, this was clearly a fast, agile combat robot of sorts.

“What do you want of us?”

The machine moved to within twenty meters and stopped. It lifted its arms, and this time Spartan could see it was carrying short, squat looking blades of the same material used by the Thegns.

“This is the final test. Survive and lead our legions to victory.”

All of them were now watching the machine, but Spartan was busy looking about the arena. To his amazement there was one other creature. It was shorter than him, squat, and its arms hung down almost to its knees. There were at least a dozen dead Thegns all around it, yet still it refused to come over and join the other five.

What about the others?

He moved his eyes quickly about the great arena, but no matter how hard he looked, he was unable to find anything resembling the others he had seen. None of it really mattered now though, the machine was stomping toward them.

“Now!” it hissed.

Spartan had nearly forgotten them and twisted about just in time to see the Thegns rushing back into the fray. He watched as they approached and lowered his stance, bracing for the coming fight.

What the hell? This is hundreds of years after the invention of brass cartridges rifles, and we’re using swords. What in the name of hell is going on here?

The Thegns threw themselves at them with such abandon that three were killed in the charge. This time they were not fencing or fighting with tactics or skill. This was something else. As Vilusk dropped to the floor with two bodies on top of him, Spartan realized what they were doing.

“Spread out!” he screamed.

One after the other, the Thegns threw their bodies at the defenders, each doing its best to engage or occupy them long enough to force them down. Both Vilusk and the Helion fighter were down and pinned when the shapes began to fall from the ceiling. One hit the ground and lifted up to reveal another Thegn; this one carrying long spears and shields.

“This is nonsense!”

The new arrivals were not quite close enough to be an issue, though. They had the first group to finish off, and several were already close to him. Spartan sidestepped the first and then cut to its face. Halfway through the cut, he redirected the blade over his head and cut upward on his left side. Caught by surprise, the blade hacked through its right and up into its ribs.

“Not quite…finished.”

Spartan yanked the blade from the flesh and spun it over his head before delivering the coup-de-grace to the Thegn. It slumped to its knees as its head dropped from its shoulders. Another ran in, and Spartan dropped to his knees and hacked low into its stomach. It doubled over in pain and provided the perfect angle for a vertical decapitation strike. It too dropped to the ground, leaving Spartan alone among their bodies and with blood pooling around his feet. His new gray armor was covered in splotches of blood while his unarmored face was covered in dirt, blood, and grime.

How are the others doing?

He looked about and found each of them busily fighting or wrestling with the last of the original group. In the center of the arena there were now twenty, perhaps twenty-five of the new arrivals, and every few seconds another dropped from the ceiling. He looked up and shielded his eyes from the bright lights. There were entry points in the ceiling, and shapes were moving around them. Spartan lifted both of his weapons and shouted out with all his might.

“What kind of a test is this?”

There was no reply, just the cries of dying warriors and the sounds of more and more Thegns landing on the ground. Spartan looked to his new comrades who had regrouped and helped the two on the ground. The Biomech machine remained where it had been, unmoving and to all intents dead to the world.

I wonder,
thought Spartan.

He ran toward the machine, much to the surprise of his comrades.

“Stay with us. That thing will kill you,” said the T’Kari warrior.

Spartan ignored it and reached the machine just as the battle cry from the Thegns began again. He looked at the machine and noticed the lower torso was partially open. He reached out and pulled hard. The hinged plating lifted up, revealing a completely empty interior.

No flesh, no AI Core, nothing.

He looked at it in complete surprise. There was more than enough space to fit something in there, perhaps even a person. Spartan looked at the sockets and joints in the machine and then to his own arms. He hadn’t noticed before, but there were tiny fingernail sized studs at different points on the new skin like armor.

Really?

He looked back and watched as the first Thegns reached the T’Kari and Helion. Blades flashed and swung about, but it was clear from the never-ending numbers falling from the ceiling that it couldn’t go on forever. He looked back at the machine and then grabbed onto then metal framing.

“Screw this!”

With a tug, he pulled himself into the machine and twisted about to place his feet on the rubberized plates. As he leaned back, the studs on his back and lower legs clunked into place with the seals in the armor. He pushed his shoulders into place and with a loud click the hinged plates began to close toward him.

This had better work!

The plates clamped down tightly, and for a fraction of a second he panicked. The idea of being quickly crushed to death inside a Biomech war machine was the last thing he would have wanted. Something hissed near his head, and then he could see as clearly as if he was bareheaded again. He lifted his hands but instead of seeing his, there were massive metal gauntlets with the short, gleaming blades attached. He took a few test swings and found the movement and speed to be comparable to his own.

“Now this is more like it!”

He moved on the spot and found his group of comrades busy hacking away at the Thegns. From his raised position, he could see over a hundred of them now, and more continued to arrive. Spartan flexed his muscles, clicked his shoulder, and moved off at a quick jog. With each step, the very ground seemed to shake. He charged directly at Vilusk who turned about and raised his weapon s to defend himself.

“Stay back!” he yelled.

Spartan jumped once, and the legs crumpled down under the impact. He then pushed again and leapt fully over those fighting, right into the middle of the Thegns. Four or five were immediately crushed by the weight of the armor. He then proceeded to swing and hack with the blades until scores lay trampled, cut and torn apart by his ferocity.

Cuts, stab, slash
! he said, moving through them like some ancient demon.

The others watched with a mixture of awe and horror as he tore the entire unit of Thegns limb from limb. After ninety seconds of blood and gore, there was not a single Thegn left standing. Spartan walked back to them and activated the armor to open at the front. The plates moved apart to reveal him to them.

“What are you doing in there?” Vilusk asked.

The Proxima Emergency caused much calamity to the worlds of the Confederacy. Millions died and countless numbers of ships were crippled. Though the conflict was derided as an internal war that pitted brother against brother, it was also praised as being an engine for the development of vessels and technology. Everything from habitation, to engines and weapons were improved, as was the infrastructure of the entire Confederacy. The ground and space forces of the Biomech War were vastly different from those that fought against the Echidna Union.

Reports of the Proxima Emergency

The Bridges, Old Spascia City, Helion Sector

The doors and hatches spun or flipped open before the transport even hit the ground. Teresa and Captain Tycho waited at the first ramp. The screaming from the engines was loud enough to hide the impact as they landed. Teresa held on tightly to the magclamps near the doorframe as the vessel lurched and then came to a stop.

“Everybody out, now!”

She jumped the meter drop and hit the dusty surface with a thud. Captain Tycho was next, and then came squad after squad of marines. All around them were great clouds of dust and smoke that merged together to create an almost impenetrable wall. She activated the overlay mode to combine thermal and infrared to see through the dust. She looked to the Captain.

“You know the plan. You will take the lot and dig in on this side of the chasm.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Good luck, Colonel.”
    

Teresa pulled out her carbine, flipped off the safety, and glanced back at her motley collection of marines, Khreenk, and volunteer fighters.

“Okay, 1
^st
Company with me. Let’s take this damn bridge!”

She moved off and the rest chased after her. They were on the largest bridge in less than a minute and surging across when she saw the battle with her own eyes for the first time. A strong gust of wind had pushed much of the smoke away, and the remains of three fortified towers burned fiercely in the distance. Tracer fire, rockets, and explosions filled the horizon, as both sides fought a desperate last action for that tiny sliver of territory along the chasm. Teresa checked the status of the first squad that was running with her. She barely knew their names, but every one of them knew of her reputation.

“Gun, are you there?”

Her intercom crackled, but the interference on the ground was massive. She heard something, but streaks of green energy overhead crashed amongst the landing pads and incredibly managed to find nothing other than rock to hit. The explosions and noise were massive, however, and for a second completely drowned out any chance she might have of hearing.

“Colonel, you’ve arrived?”

“You bet your ass I’ve arrived.”

She tried to sound confident, but as she moved ahead, it was clear her single company of marines would be unable to turn the tide. A quick glance to the tactical overlay showed that Captain Tycho had established strongpoints at the end of each bridge, and was already moving heavy weapons and SAAR robots into position.

Good work, Captain. That’s exactly what we need.

A single squad managed to outrun her and moved nearly twenty meters ahead. They made it almost to the end of the bridge when a vast burst of gunfire ripped into the ground around them.

“Take cover!” cried their sergeant.

The man didn’t even have time to duck as the turrets from a single Eques walker spun about and blasted him apart. Teresa slid behind a stone barricade, lifted her carbine, and took aim.

“Volley fire, center mass!”

She tagged the spot she wanted hit and opened fire. More carbines joined in, each adding to the damage. No one weapon brought down the machine. It was simple weight of numbers from each coilgun blasting holes into it. As the machine settled down on its haunches with smoke belching from a hundred holes, Teresa lifted herself to her feet.

“Onwards!”

Another squad of twelve marines rushed past with one carrying a large flag showing the Alliance colors. Teresa shook her head in amusement at such an anachronism. It served little purpose, but incredibly managed to get them across the bridge in half the time they might have expected.

“Colonel, I have artillery in position. Khreenk and Marine volunteers are heading for the mountain. Just send us your targets.”

Teresa slipped in another magazine and continued forward until finally reaching the end of the bridge. The destruction wrought in just this one square kilometer amazed even her.

“Understood, Captain.”

She then tagged all her platoon commanders.

“This is Colonel Morato. Artillery and air cover is being coordinated via mountain command. Tag your targets and send in your requests. We’ve got the big guns. Make sure we use them!”

Teresa lifted her head and watched squad after squad of marines fan out and edge forward through the cover. The unit carrying the battle standard was right in the center, exactly where the greatest concentration of enemy fire was.

The crazy fools.

Teresa could sense General Gun was near, but more importantly to her, she was convinced Jack couldn’t be far away. From their current position, there were large Biomech ground units moving on both flanks. Teresa tagged four platoons of her marines and gave them their deployment orders. All of them left, using the cover as best they could. She looked back and checked that the second company that had just landed was also crossing the bridges.

“Captain Tycho, send engineer teams to the bridges. We’re going to need them brought down within the hour.”

There was a short pause.

“Colonel? You want the bridges rigged? Correct?”

“That’s right, Captain. The Biomechs are massing on this side, and I estimate we have a matter of an hour, probably less until they smash this bridgehead.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

Teresa again looked off into the distance, trying to find any sight of the trapped marines and others as they fought their breakout from the Three Sisters fortification.

“Yes, one last thing. I need a Broken Arrow fire plan prepared. When I give the order, I need a single coordinated bombardment of this entire sector. Get them organized, and fast, Captain.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

Two lieutenants moved up alongside her, as well as a Marine corporal with battered and burned armor. The difference between the relief force and those that had been there for months was easy to see.

“Colonel, this is Private Forgeng. He one of those that broke out before the encirclement.”

Teresa nodded and then ducked as a triple rocket volley whistled past them and exploded against the wrecked carcass of an Eques walker.

“Private. I can’t reach our forces back there. They are being blocked. How many are there?”

The man opened his visor and began to speak loudly.

“Hundreds. General Gun and the others are stuck in a bottleneck three hundred meters back. The machines have dug in on both sides, and there are more of them blocking their route this way.”

“Okay, how many made it out?”

“Over nine hundred, Sir. We wanted to go back, but the General’s last orders were to get over the bridges. He said he would keep them busy for us.”

Teresa shook her head.

Typical Gun, never one to back down in a
fight!

“Very well. Stay here, Private, and tell my officers everything you know.”

“Will you help them?” he asked, a pleading tone to his voice.

Teresa did her best to look reassuring.

“Son, we’re here to turn this fight around. We’ll get them out of here if it takes a year.”

He looked to the other two officers, but neither said a word. Teresa nodded to the nearest of them and pointed off in the direction the Private had described.

“They won’t have long. I need assault units, Vanguards, and any Jötnar you can rustle up.”

“What’s the plan, Colonel?”

Teresa lifted her weapon and checked the horizon once more. The crackle of gunfire had now increased, and reports came back from the four platoons. All of them had now reached the enemy and were heavily engaged.

“Colonel, we’ve got a single Vanguard squad en route. They only hit the ground three minutes ago. There’s also a platoon of Combat Engineers at the bridges. Captain Tycho says they are available if we need them.”

The CES teams were something Teresa had almost forgotten about. In the years since the Great Uprising, their use had dropped as the Vanguards took over. Though the latter were substantially more advanced, they had also changed in capabilities. Whereas the Vanguards were a hybrid war machine driven by a single marine, the CES units were heavily armed engineering machines. The CES marines were able to construct defenses and attack position that even a Vanguard would find difficult. She looked at the officers and grinned.

“CES units are exactly what we need. Get them to this position, fast. Here’s the plan.”

* * *

Taxxu, Uncharted Space

The arena was supposed to have been a test, but as Spartan looked out at the carnage, he failed to see quite what the point was. The Thegns had long since stopped in their bizarre release from the rafters, and the group had now been left on their own for more than ten minutes.

“What now?” he asked.

The alien female with the pale alabaster skin walked around him, examining the machine in great detail. She stopped and looked the blood-covered blades with equal interest before reaching out and touching them. She pulled back her finger, now coated in the blood, and placed it in her mouth. All of them watched her, but not one understood why she was doing it. Finally, she pulled out her finger and licked her lips. The Helion muttered something and then turned away from her.

“The test is over,” said the voice from before.

The light subdued and low-level lighting lit the outer levels of the massive enclosed space. Shapes moved, and dozens of machines shifted for a better view while one in particular approached. The little group retained their weapons and turned to face the new threat while Spartan closed up his suit and moved to face it. On came the machine until it stopped before them all.

“One-Zero-One,” said Spartan in amusement, “what was this test for?”

The Helion and T’Kari walked around the machine, both still carrying their weapons. They moved closer, but the machine simply ignored them and continued speaking to Spartan.

“This test was a simple one.”

That was when the two aliens struck. The Helion slammed its blade into the leg of the machine while the T’Kari thrust some kind of pulsing firearm into a crevice on the flank of the machine. Both rolled back and took cover from the expected retribution. The Byotai warrior, the one that Spartan had fought so hard alongside, also lifted his weapons.

“No, step back!” Spartan snapped.

The firearm the T’Kari had attached flashed and then exploded. The hole it created burned through the armor and left it still standing, but an empty, ruined husk. Spartan looked back at the wreckage and then to the others.

“Why did you do that? They are our allies, our kin. We are to lead them to victory over the traitors.”

Vilusk laughed and then swung his weapon over his head.

“No, Spartan. We are not their puppets. We will fight, and we will destroy them. Now step aside.”

He moved one step closer, but the pale female leapt to the side and brought down her blades to sever Vilusk’s arm. He howled in pain; the limb dropped to the floor quivering as though still alive with a mind of its own. She looked up to Spartan with her head twisted slightly to one side.

“No, we are both here to serve them. You have betrayed their trust, and for that you will be destroyed.”

Vilusk, the T’Kari, and the Helion backed off and moved carefully to the abandoned cache of weapons. With the threat of the Thegns now gone, they were able to rummage through the items to find something different to fight with.

“Put your weapons down!” Spartan ordered.

His voice boomed through the armor with greatly increased volume and a throbbing bass. The very ground seemed to shake as he gave his orders. Vilusk used something in the heap of weapons to cauterize the wound and then yelled out in pain. Something else moved off into the distance. The Helion pointed at it and pulled out a long, curved hacking blade from the heap.

“What is it?” he asked.

The shape emerged from beneath a pile of Thegn bodies. Spartan’s enhanced vision via the armor allowed him to see it clearly, and it made his stomach lurch a little.

“A Jötnar?”

He took a step to his right and looked at it in surprise. There had been eight of them in the arena, but those on the other side had been hard to see. He didn’t recall seeing this monster of a warrior, but it was clearly not another Thegn. The shape moved closer and stopped to look at each of them. Now Spartan could see what it was. Although technically the same synthetic machine as his kin, this was actually one of the models used by the Helions.