Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift (33 page)

“Hold them back!” Captain Marcus yelled.

He lifted his head just a fraction to take aim and was immediately struck by a blast from two Thegns. His lifeless body spun back and fell to the ground just centimeters from Admiral Lewis. More Thegns streamed in, and then came the Decurions, their monstrous limbs hacking and stabbing. Screams echoed through the CIC, and then the artificial gravity failed. Admiral Lewis lost his footing and drifted up from where he’d been hiding.

What a way to go.

The Admiral took aim with his carbine but with nothing to hold onto, he drifted about. A Thegn moved into view, and he pulled the trigger. The first shot was on target, but the recoil sent him spiraling through the CIC and right back against the wall. The Decurions were in their element and tore through the defenders with ease. He lost count as dozens ripped through displays and human flesh, butchering any that they found. He lifted the carbine and locked his left arm against the bulkhead, holding him into place two meters off the ground.

“Go back to hell!” he cried out.

Holding down the trigger, he fired until every round had been expended. There were bodies everywhere, but nowhere could he find the sign of his comrades still alive. Three Decurions pulled themselves along the walls and moved in from each direction. He pushed the carbine away and grabbed for his pistol. They were only three meters away now. The gun seemed puny against such things, and he counted the rounds as he fired. Eventually he hit nineteen.

Time to go.

There was no hesitation as he flipped the weapon to his temple and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

ANS Warlord, The Black Rift, Helios Sector

The sound of battle filled the CIC. It was a song they were now all too familiar with. Engineers managed the power systems for the engines, life support, and weapons while the tactical officers targeted enemy vessels and took the fight to them. Every few seconds the ship shuddered as the secondary railguns fired. The recoil from the massed expulsion of energy and matter could be felt even through the vastness of the mighty battleship.

Come on, we don’t have time,” Admiral Anderson muttered.

He paced back and forth impatiently. His boots hit the metallic surface with a cracking sound from every step. The rest of the CIC was a hive of activity, few having even a fraction of a moment to look to their Admiral.

“Have you located the source yet?”

He looked up hopefully and found his eyes drawn to the massive mainscreen. The images were enough to make even the strongest man balk. Even the enemy Biomantas were enough to match his fleet, yet still the Allies moved forward and directly at them.

They outnumber us two to one, and I have no reserve. Is this it?

The chief science officer, a temporary transfer from one of the lost T’Kari scout vessels looked back to him. Her translator was up-to-date and responded in a fraction of a second after she spoke. Her technical skill was beyond anything anybody on the ship had seen before.

“The probes, Admiral. One of the six made it through the Rift. We have only six hundred kilobytes of data. The probe then stopped transmitting.”

“What did we get?”

Two of the senior engineers looked at the screen, along with a third science officer. The data was mangled and lacking in detail, but with careful use of filters they were able to access at least part of it. The T’Kari officer waved frantically to the Admiral.

“I have over seventy targets, all large vessels. There is a planet in close proximity to the Rift exit point, several orbital structures that match the layout of the invasion Arks, and these.”

She pointed to the graphs that presented the composition data in as simple a form as possible. Admiral Anderson looked carefully, but only parts of it made sense.

“I don’t understand. I see partial data for more ships around the orbital structures. What about them?”

“The ships contain biological signatures, millions of them.”

Admiral Anderson straightened his back and looked ahead. The return fire from the enemy ships reminded him of looking up at the sky when it rained. But this time it was missiles, torpedoes, guns, and particle beams that were coming toward him.

“Sir, reports from Micaya,” said Captain Decker, “It’s Conqueror.”

Admiral Anderson swallowed and almost choked. He looked to the Captain and could see from her expression that it was the worst possible news.

“She just detonated. Long-range cameras show the remnants of Admiral Lewis’ forces are falling back to the orbit of the planet. The Biomech force is in pursuit.”

He closed his eyes but only for a second. The man was a good friend of his, and if his ship was gone, then so was he.

“How many ships are lost?”

“Seven, the rest are engaged in a fighting withdrawal. Other ships are moving in to the area to help. Some might make it out of there safely.”

He wiped his brow and looked back to the mainscreen. Three Liberty destroyers were already burning, and yet they pressed on. The tactical display showed his force was deployed in a large formation, almost triangular in shape, and with the most powerful ships at the tip of the formation. He slowed his breathing, calmed himself, and began issuing new orders to the ship squadrons. He also gave the emergency dispersal order to all squadrons.

They can’t do any good waiting inside the hull, can they? If they were going to die, it would be better in the cockpit than in the hangar.

That reminded him; Khan and his comrades were still on board. He located their position and made contact.

“Khan, get ready. Are you sure about this?”

“Admiral. As soon as you have his location, you can just point a finger. I’ll do the rest.”

The communications officer tried to catch his attention.

“Admiral, their commander is transmitting again.”

“Can you track it?”

The officer nodded.

“Yes, Admiral, it’s the large battleship two rows inside their formation.”

He scrolled through the enemy dispositions and then found the group right in the center of the fleet. There were twenty Biomantas in a very loose position, and behind them sat the squat haunches of a massive capital ship. The computer had already identified another five of the same configuration.

“Are you positive? According to me, they have others with the same specification.”

Captain Decker pointed to the shape.

“Only one of them has twice as many escorts around it as the rest. Where would you be?”

Anderson wasn’t quite sure if that was a complement or a subtle snipe at him.

I have to be certain.

“Is Spartan still transmitting, as in, right now?”

His communications officer nodded and pointed to the image of the talking machines off to the side of the mainscreen.

“Good.”

He went back to the tactical display and selected every single squadron, no matter their designation, weapons, or capabilities.

“Everything, fire on him now!”

The speed and efficiency shown by the men and women of the Alliance Navy could have choked up the strongest of officers. It took just seconds before the first ships opened fire, then every gun in the fleet was firing at that single target. As the first projectiles arrived, he watched the footage of Spartan. At first nothing happened, then the feed began to shake, and he spotted vibrations and a few flashes in the background.

It’s him.

He pulled the intercom from its mount.

“All ships; proceed with attack plan Alpha. Clear me a path to their General!”

He deliberately avoided using Spartan’s name. There were so many, including him that regarded him as something of a living legend. Even now, as he fought against his friends, he found it hard to believe it was really him.

“Captain Decker. Lead in the assault ships. I want boarding parties ready. If we can’t destroy her with gunfire, then by hell we’ll take her man-to-man.”

Ignoring the other battleships and escorts, the combined forces of the Allies focused their efforts on the vessels in close proximity to the flagship of the Biomech fleet. That was the point at which the six battleships opened fire, and both sides joined in the battle. Every Biomech ship opened fired with the weapons available to them.

So it begins.

Admiral Anderson watched the mainscreen with horror as ships exploded every few seconds. The first to go was a Ravager, one of the mightiest of the enemy warships. Combined fire from more than twenty ships of the Grand Alliance tore it apart. Immediately after came three flashes; a Crusader and two of its escorts were vaporized in a similar volley of concentrated fire.

His hands changed the view, and he watched the flagship as hundreds of fighters moved around the bow, creating a living shield of biomechanical fighters. More and more Biomantas pulled in close and fired on ships from each of the contingents.

Makos, where is he?

A quick glance on the tactical display showed the additional force of ships. Off to the right, and behind the cover created by the destruction of four Ravager warships moved a large force. He counted fifteen Liberty destroyers, all of the Black Ships, and the warships of General Makos. They advanced under a continuous flak corridor from the Alliance ships while hundreds of fighters circled around the ships to fight off their Biomech opposite numbers or to protect against missiles.

Excellent, Makos is the spearpoint, and I’ll use it to ram right down Spartan’s throat.

With a quick gesture and order, the communications officer opened a secure videostream to the alien commander.

“General.”

“Admiral Anderson. What can I do for you?”

“You’ve found a breach in their flank.”

“That’s right,” he replied in his usual gruff tone, “I’ve lost six ships getting past their frontline. We’re through, and I’m moving back to…”

He considered his words.

“…roll their flank. We’ll meet you in the middle.”

“Good. Is Khan with you?”

The alien nodded, a custom he had learned quite recently.

“I have all of the remaining Biomech warriors, bandon, Jötnar, and three companies of marines.”

“Excellent. Just make one revision to the strategy.”

“Yes?”

“Send in the Black Ships, plus all ground forces at your disposal.”

“Where to?”

Admiral Anderson selected the ship on his tactical display and sent the data to his opposite number.

“The battleship?” General Makos asked.

“Yes. Send them against the enemy flagship, General. We’re having a hard time getting through her screen of escorts. Get your troops on board, find Spartan, and bring him down. Dead or alive, I need him out of the picture. Once you have the ship, we’ll finish off the rest of the fleet.”

The General gave his customary salute and signed off. Admiral Anderson looked to the scene of the bloody battle at the Rift and shook his head ever so slightly.

Who am I kidding? We’ll finish off the rest of their fleet.

He laughed.

 
With what? We don’t have the numbers to win this fight.

* * *

Battleship Retribution, Black Rift, Helios Sector

Spartan watched the battle without making a sound. Both fleets were now committed, and it was obvious to him that in two, perhaps three hours the battle for Helios and the galaxy would be decided. Numbers flashed by inside his armor, but it was the columns of ships on the massive holographic display that interested him the most. As well as showing his dispositions, it toted up the number of active, damaged, and destroyed ships. One-Zero-One watched eagerly as ship after ship was crippled or boarded.

“Ten percent of their fleet has been neutralized,” said the machine.

“I know,” answered Spartan.

His voice was emotionless. He had already lost thirty ships, and that was half as many ships again as those commanded by Anderson. The losses surprised him, especially with the much-improved Biomanta ships. He could only put it down to the advanced weaponry used by the Byotai that had also joined battle. Not that any of this really mattered. He had numbers on his side.

“What about the reserve?” he asked.

The machine looked at the numbers for several seconds.

“We do not need them. At this rate, their fleet will be gone well before ours. Then we can bring in the rest to begin the conquest of their worlds.”

Spartan laughed at the machine’s simplistic plan.

“There will be no conquest after this battle. With the fleet smashed, they will have little option but to surrender.”

He turned from the hologram and to the machine.

“Did I not promise to win this war within twenty-four hours? They are not interested in the destruction of our ships. Or even the machinery to enter the Rifts. Their eyes are on me, and as long as I live, they will fight to stop me.”