Ghost Soldiers (30 page)

She took a breath, one so deep it could be heard over the communications system.

"Send me the word, and it will be done."

Spartan closed his eyes while smiling. Kanjana was unique, and her skills far surpassed so many on that derelict. What she lacked in military training, she made up for with her natural abilities, and her incredible knowledge of machinery and electronics. Right now, what amazed him the most was her resourcefulness.

"Good job, Kanjana. Wait for my command."

"Understood. Oh, and Spartan?"

He swallowed, expecting yet more bad news.

"Yes?"

"It's good to hear your voice again. Let's get this thing."

The XC1 Carbine first came to fame in the fighting on Karnak. Although rather diminutive in size, the firearm finally fixed the problem facing Alliance ground troops, that of a myriad of enemies, each with unique strengths and weaknesses. Though highly volatile if not properly maintained, the magnetically cased plasma projectiles were more powerful than anything previously carried by a human warrior. Now a single marine could tackle infantry, robotic fighting machines, and even medium armour without having to resort to heavier weaponry. The HEC-1 weapon system was directly related and provided an upscaled version for use by Mavericks and armoured vehicles.

Equipment of the IAB

Unidentified Derelict, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan

Spartan looked at what remained of his Interstellar Assault Brigade Company with horror. Had he been on his own he might have wept; it was a terrible sight to see. He knew they'd suffered badly, but had no idea it was quite this bad. He'd boarded the derelict with seventy-two marines, Captain Delatorre plus Five-Seven and handful of Thegns. Normally, the numbers of wounded would greatly outnumber the dead. This was a consequence of the use of better and more flexible body armour. Now he looked on to see just four wounded marines, and each was capable of walking, albeit painfully.

"This is not good," said Khan.

Other than Spartan and Khan, the only heavies remaining were the three lieutenants, and Sergeant Tyler. Spartan looked to Lieutenant Kipling first and then to Lieutenant Anne Lee.

"Where are your NCOs?"

Both remained motionless as they spoke. Lieutenant Anne Lee spoke first.

"In the last hour we've taken heavy casualties. The machines caused many casualties. But the last assault, it was a bloodbath. They cut down the wounded first."

Spartan lifted his hand. He'd already heard more than enough.

"So, this is it, all that we have to end this."

He wanted to sound positive, but the numbers made that difficult. He was down to a single JAS, four Maverick suits and just fifteen IAB Marines. Of the Thegns, only two remained, one of which was Five-Seven. Spartan closed his eyes for a moment.

It's regrouped, can we do this?

Spartan experienced a moment of doubt, and then he remembered that he'd already lost most of those he'd brought with him. If they failed, their lives would have been wasted.

We will stop this creature escaping, if that's the last thing we ever do.

He called out the names of those waiting, never haven forgotten a single one of their names. With each of them responding, he marked their details on his overlay. It took less than a minute, and when finished he knew exactly who had lived, and who had fallen.

It was the tiny number remaining that truly stunned him. A combat unit with those kinds of losses would normally be pulled out of the line and sent back for rebuilding. According to any measure, they had been completely decimated. All of the NCOs other than Tyler were gone, and he was quite frankly stunned that his officers still lived, and could only assume it was down to them all wearing the resilient Maverick armour. He began to wonder if perhaps they should have stayed aboard Euryale, and then remembered what had happened there. They would have all been irradiated at best, and more likely killed in a core detonation.

This was the least bad option, now you have to make it count for something.

"The creature is badly wounded, and it has already pulled back its forces from their assault. There is only one reason for them to do this."

Khan stepped in to continue.

"It knows we're alive, and that we are all heading towards a ship that will autodestruct soon."

"Yes," said Captain Delatorre, "According to my data, the systems have already started their overloading procedure. The heat generated by the systems will be obvious to anybody able to scan the ship. It is irreversible now."

A few of the marines shook their heads, and one began to question his statement. Spartan cut him off.

"It doesn't matter how this happened, or what the enemy might be aware of. All we need to know is that this thing, known as a Guardian is trying to escape."

He twisted at the hip and looked at each of them.

"Will you let it go?"

The chorus was loud and in full agreement. Spartan beamed as he walked in front of the group.

"This Guardian is cutting the airlock supports to a small, inoperative transport ship. This derelict is a collection of ships, each one joined to the next via airlocks, tunnels, and shafts."

He stopped and then pointed off the damaged blast doors.

"Once it has finished, it can blast it away and avoid the worst of the explosion from Euryale. The radiation will do little to affect it, and then it will wait until somebody, someday finds the ship and heads aboard to investigate."

He turned to the officers, each of which towered over the marines.

"You've all seen what it can do with our technology, our communications, and even our ship. If it could reach occupied space, it would wreak havoc. Even worse would be if it could find a way to replicate itself. I am not joking when I say this could be a world killer."

Spartan licked his mouth and then pointed to the welded and patched up blast doors, the same ones he had left a day before. Back then he'd taken less with him; but had the element of surprise. Now every single defensive system would be activated and deployed to protect the Guardian until it could escape.

"I intend on finding this Guardian and reminding it that this is our territory, our sector, and I'll be damned if some machine will take it from us. Now, are you with me?"

At first nobody spoke, then Sergeant Tyler, resplendent in his smashed Maverick armour lifted his arm. The snapped lance was still jammed into the plating, and Spartan dreaded to think what he would find when they opened it up, assuming any of them made it out of the derelict alive.

"I'll stand with you."

Corporal John Evans, the last surviving junior NCO in 3rd Platoon lifted his carbine up high. Blood trickled down from a puncture wound to his flank, yet even after these agonising hours he refused to acknowledge the wound. The Corporal was a tall man and barely able to squeeze inside the tight confines of his damaged M-3B tactical armour. Spartan noticed the triple lines that had cut into the chest plate, no doubt an injury sustained in close combat with one of the machines, and nodded slowly. Before he could speak another joined in.

"Me, too, Major. It's time we told this machine who's boss."

Spartan almost laughed at the bravado, but he could see that every one of them, man, woman and Thegn was equally serious. One by one each of them did the same, and each of the injured marines joined in, showing as much eagerness to end the fight as the rest of them.

"Good," said Spartan, "We will track this thing down, like a bear to its cave. When we find it, it is imperative we stop it from escaping in the transport."

Satisfied they were ready, he lifted his arm and gave the signal they were all waiting for.

"Let's do this. Move out."

Khan and Sergeant Tyler took the lead, and the remaining heavies spread out through the formation. Sergeant Tyler moved more slowly, held back by his shattered leg. Only the powered suit and the myriad of drugs kept him going, at least for the next few hours. The Thegns took the middle position, and due to combat losses, all were carrying XC1 carbines. Khan ripped open the damaged blast door with his armoured limbs and cast the wreckage aside.

"With me."

The journey to the marked location in the derelict took less than thirty minutes, but as they moved closer, it became clear that every single piece of equipment had been pulled back. Last time Spartan and his comrades had travelled through the derelict, there had been machines and weapons at nearly every turn. Now the vessel felt empty, and he began to wonder if they were too late.

Just as the doubt began to feel real, he heard a sound. He lifted his arm into a fist and the column stopped as one. Spartan moved ahead, Khan at his flank. Dust drifted about like a thick smoke screen, and though partially obscuring them, it also made it more difficult to see what was ahead. There was lots of cover, with containers, storage bins, machinery, and at least three wheeled vehicles, all of which had been looted for parts, including most of their wheels. Khan extended his arm and pointed off to the left.

"I see them."

There were at least fifteen machines of different configurations, and all were moving around the airlock seals to the transport. As they watched, a flickered blue shape appeared near them. They were busily trying to disconnect them all from the transport. Two were smashing away at huge clamps holding an airlock in place. It made a grinding sound, and then fell away to leave an open space and a clear view of the grey coloured transport on the other side. Five-Seven approached and lifted his secpad to show Spartan.

"There is a small umbilical shaft that joins the dorsal mount of the transport. It's one level up and leads down into the transport."

Movement caught his eye, and he spotted four of their modified Grunts walking out from one of the airlocks.

"Damn it, they have units inside the transport as well."

It took a moment, but as he looked at the situation, the rudiments of strategy came to him.

"We can't all get inside that way. As soon as you get inside the umbilical, they'll be on you. Those already there will keep you busy, and the rest will come in to help. It will be a massacre."

Khan had been listening.

"Yeah, so we draw them out and buy time for the others."

"Exactly."

Spartan checked the schematics once more and looked to Five-Seven, who seemed to be the resident expert on the design and construction of the Trusskan derelict.

"How long to reach the umbilical?"

"Six minutes," Five-Seven said without having to think.

A loud crashing noise turned their attention what was happening on the deck. Spartan and Khan moved slightly closer, doing their best to eliminate as much noise from the steps taken by their Maverick armour.

"The Guardian," hissed Khan.

Spartan followed his lead and spotted their enemy, the great machine that had brought them all so much calamity. He then checked each of the airlock units and found all but three had now been detached from the transport.

We're running out of time.

Spartan looked back at his unit and signalled for them to deploy. They moved out into the open compartment that ran out onto a massive open structure. As they moved in, Spartan could see the massive windows that were blocked up with dirt and debris. It was much like the landing deck they'd arrived on, yet this one had ten large blast doors running down one side.

"It's definitely a docking level," said one of the marines.

"You are correct. This is where the ship is connected," replied Five-Seven.

He pointed off to the doors in the distance.

"Those are the airlock seals connecting this part of the derelict to the transport. Once they remove the last three, and decouple the umbilical, the transport will be free of the derelict and able to leave."

Spartan had made up his mind now and indicated for the officers to come closer.

"Wait at the umbilical. When you are in position, Khan and I will attack them, along with a single fireteam, all volunteers. When they are fully engaged, you will get inside."

"And then?" Captain Delatorre asked. He had been silent so far.

"We will destroy it. If we fail, we will delay him long enough for you all to blow the airlocks and jettison the transport away from the derelict."

Spartan seemed to relax as the plan coalesced in his mind.

"Captain Delatorre, you will lead the rest to the next floor and reach the umbilical. Use your officers and NCOs; they share a wealth of knowledge. Contact me when you're ready to go in. Understood?"

A few considered arguing, but every single one of them there understood the implications of outstaying their welcome on the derelict.

* * *

Kanjana leaned over the edge of the gantry and around the final bend. She could see one half of the machine and its constantly moving gun mount. It was a horrible grinding sound, and it was obvious to her that the motors and gears were clogged up with dirt or rust. Even so, the weapons fitted to it looked substantial, and she had little doubt it would blast them apart if given the opportunity. It was heavily reinforced with sections of plating, much like the carapace of a beetle.