Star Crusades Nexus: Book 06 - Call to Arms (20 page)

“They are putting up a good fight,” said Osk, who had only just arrived with her small retinue of guards.

“Indeed they are. It hasn’t stopped the assault ships though, has it?” asked Teresa.

Both were fully armored, yet they could see each other’s faces through the slightly smoked visors. Osk turned from the live feed and toward Teresa.

“True. The transports took most of the fire from Dreadnought, but she’s been chased away. I’ve never seen a single ship put up such a fight before. It looks like the design did its job. Not that it will matter in the end though. They’ll be here soon.”

Teresa nodded bitterly.

“I know. It’s not just the ship. The crew is one of the best I’ve ever met. If they are leaving, it’s because they have absolutely no choice in the matter.”

Teresa knew the fleet had little chance against such numbers. Even so, she’d though ANS Dreadnought and her Liberty ships would have lasted more than the thirty minutes it had taken the enemy. One of the Liberty ships had been rammed, and its shattered hulk continued to spin as it moved ever closer to the fiery planet. The remaining Alliance ships were already moving away from the planet and back toward the safety and shelter of the storms.

“Why not head through the Rift to T’Karan?”

Teresa looked at the images of Biomech fighters pursuing the massive Alliance ship and couldn’t help but smile as a cloud of turret fire destroyed all five pursuers in a single powerful volley.

Something tells me they are staying close for a reason.

An alert sounded on her secpad, and the imagery transferred directly to her visor overlay. It was Captain Horner.

“Colonel, the external sensor field shows the enemy formation of ships has released their landing parties.”

Teresa closed her eyes and breathed slowly. She knew this was coming, but the imagery of the enemy’s assault ships had proven more worrying that even she had thought.

“How many?”

The man’s forehead tightened as he explained.

“Ten of the fifteen capital ships made it through our lines. The P7 station took out two, and another went down from the combined missile and gun battery fire coming from us. Dreadnought took out two herself.”

Teresa was far from impressed though, she knew that ten more had broken through, and they were all the size of a Crusader class warship.

“And the transports?”

“Two were downed, five more got through, but two are burning.”

Teresa quickly totted them up in her head.

“So, three of the old civilian transports and ten Biomech ships got through to the orbit of Prometheus? Is that right?”

“Affirmative, Colonel. All but two are the recently identified Biomech assault ships, codenamed Sawfish. They match the designs of the ships that landed troops on Eos. The others are Biomanta class cruisers.”

The names might have been amusing on any other day but not now. Unlike most temporary names, these were based on form and function.

“Also, the large single ship, provisionally codenamed a Cephalon class is with them. We suspect it is controlling the operation.”

“I need numbers, Captain. How many landing craft can I expect?”

“Expect?” answered the man, “No, they are already en route. We counted at least twenty of the Bioray landing craft heading for the surface, with half as many making directly for the entrances to the docking areas and shipyards. According to the reports from Eos, these things can land up to a hundred warriors directly into battle. Some can even carry their heavy walkers.”

Again Teresa closed her eyes, but the images of the fighting on Eos haunted her almost instantly. It wasn’t just the massive mechanical machines that the Biomechs had made use of; it was the variety of biological warriors that really worried her. They were fast, violent, and never ever backed down.

“How long do we have?”

He stopped whatever it was and looked directly at her.

“Colonel, the first Biorays are heading your way. I have the surface guns on them but half have already been knocked out.”

A loud banging sound came from far in the distance, and it sent Teresa’s heartbeat up substantially. She found herself gulping involuntarily.

“Okay, Captain. We’ll take it from here. Is the internal grid online?”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“Good, do your job, and we’ll do ours.”

 
As the signal cut, a group of two dozen marines surged past her position and off into one of the long open spaces that took them to one of the legs of the base. A trio of Jötnar ran right behind them, all of them holding their modified L56 Mark III weapons low and at the ready. The base began to shake again as if it struck by an earthquake, and chunks of rock began to fall from the ceiling.

“What the hell!” Teresa snapped.

She’d planned for many contingencies, but the possibility that the machine would be able to smash through over a hundred meters of solid rock and two plated sections of metal hadn’t even occurred to her.

“No, they can’t. Surely not?”

As she finished speaking, a massive section of stonework ripped off the ceiling and came down on top of a pair of workers. They vanished in a mist of blood, and she twisted about to avoid looking at the grisly mess. Teresa turned her attention to the ceiling so far above her, but apart from a small number of cracks, nothing else gave away the position of the enemy.

“Colonel, they are past the turrets. They’re inside!” said Captain Rivers over the communications network.

“This is it. Now the real fight begins.”

That was when a hole the size of a Bulldog appeared in the ceiling, and the first of the large walkers dropped down to crash to the ground. A dozen heavy guns opened fire from her fortified redoubt in the central plaza. At the same time, the barricades installed at the entrance to each of the long legs of the plaza turned their guns on the center. The machine didn’t even have time to steady itself before it was shot to pieces. More holes opened up, and this time and as quickly as it had started, the real gunfire began.

“Here goes nothing.”

Commander Olik was one of the old heroes of the Great Uprising. As part of that glorious generation of synthetics, he fought alongside such legends as Commander Gun and Khan in the greatest battles of the War. His reputation for calm-headed bravado stemmed from the deadly fighting on Euryale. The terrible carnage on that world was more than enough to eliminate the entire population, but the Jötnar held firm, and although they sustained heavy casualties, they helped win that most vicious of battles in the War. In the years after the Fall of Terra Nova, he faded into obscurity outside of the Jötnar until called upon once more to do his duty. Prometheus would be the proving ground not just for him, but also for an entire new generation of his kin.

Heroes of the Great Uprising

Spartan found his heart rate had doubled, but not because of the predicament he was in. No, it had increased so greatly simply due to the information he’d heard from Marcus. Although both of them had avoided bringing up the painful past, Marcus had been quite happy filling in Spartan with the major events of the last months; the exploration of Helios, meeting other races, and the beginning of the project to understand the great enemy of their time, the Biomechs. The part of the story that affected him the most was the news of this comet heading for Helios. He knew when he heard it that the attack was part of a greater plan, one that meant much more than just an invasion.

“What is it?” asked Marcus.

He’d noticed Spartan had stopped speaking. They were still working through the never-ending line of passageways, but he knew that wasn’t it. Spartan glanced at him and narrowly avoided striking his head on an array of overhead pipes. Khan grumbled and dropped down to his knees to crawl under them.

“When we were prisoners on the Biomech ship, I saw part of their plan. At least, I think I did.”

Marcus seemed intrigued at this new information.

“What did you find out?”

“Well, for starters, they wanted us to give up Helios, to persuade our leaders to pull the Alliance away from Helios. They said they had a score to settle with their enemies out there.”

“Where?”

Spartan shrugged.

“Well, I assumed the other side of the Prometheus Rift, so all these enemies in the Orion Nebula. Back then I thought they were talking about the Helions. From what you’ve told me, they are not too happy with these other races either.”

Marcus stopped and waited for the others to catch up.

“Thirty more meters and we’ll be directly underneath the cooling pipes. We follow those to the pumping station, and next to that we’ll find the security station. Now, it is...”

A clanking noise made him stop immediately. They all dropped down low, and almost as one flicked off their lamps. The sound was dull but repeated at equal intervals. It may have been a set of pistons or heavy machinery as might be expected in a refinery, but this was different, if nothing else because it was increasing in volume.

“You know what that is, don’t you?” Khan asked as quietly as he could.

None of them could see each other, but Marcus did whisper back.

“It’s one of those arachnid warriors. Since they took control of the place, they’ve been running patrols of the refinery. Why do you think I brought you down here? You stay up top, you die.”

The skittering sound of the thing above them grew louder and louder, finally stopping a few meters from where they were hiding. Not one of the tiny group made a sound until it moved away as quickly as it had arrived. The almost indiscernible clatter of metal feet faded, to be replaced by the gentle thumping of distant machinery inside the heart of the complex.

* * *

Olik ran as fast as he could while making sure he didn’t hit any of the Alliance personnel on the way. His large size and armored suit would cause vicious injuries to anybody he might strike as he moved. Less than a minute earlier he’d been at the central plaza, but the news from the second leg of the base had demanded his attention.

“Almost there,” he said to himself, rounding the next corner in the massively wide passageway.

As he ran, he continued to monitor the video feeds from the other side of the blast doors. They showed the wreckage of the outer doors that had been torn apart by the suicidal ramming of a damaged Bioray landing craft. A myriad of enemy warriors had emerged through that breach, many of which had then been cut down by the quadruple turret mounts fitted ten meters away from the inner blast doors. Only one camera was still transmitting, and what it showed had shocked even him. He reached the inner layer of blast doors on the third access arm and almost ran directly into the entire platoon of the Red Watch that waited for him. The double width line were as still as statues, every single one of them armed with the new heavy weapons that had been hastily fitted just hours before.

“Ready?”

“Ready!” replied the unit in perfect unison.

He’d never commanded a unit of such young and inexperienced warriors from another region before, and these Jötnar were some of the best-qualified and trained Jötnar outside of those fighting on Helios. He almost felt guilty at being given command of them, when he’d barely said a word to even one. Yet unlike most of them, he was one of the first generation of Jötnar. Like Khan and Gun, the enemy had created him specifically for war. He’d fought hard on Euryale back in the Great Uprising and had taken a painful injury to his face that he bore with pride today.

Those that followed had been a mixture of artificially inseminated Jötnar. More recently they had been assisted by the Alliance to reproduce naturally, much to the concern of the citizens of Alliance colonies. The video feed flickered for a moment, and it drew his attention immediately back to what was happening on the other side of the doors.

“Just look at them,” he said quietly.

It was like looking into a nest of insects, but almost all of them were different. Those nearest the camera were bipedal, tall, and covered in a dull iron hide. Some were armed with arm-mounted blades, others with firearms of an alien design. Intermixed with them moved the arachnid robotic warriors, as well as a smattering of the six-limbed robotic tanks. One of these had reached the blast door and was using two of its front legs to smash its way through the metal and masonry.

This is going to be interesting.

Olik looked back at his kin and did his best to hide a smile. Whereas his armor was new, unpainted, and unblemished, theirs was dark red and scratched from months of training. To the uninitiated he looked like the rookie, a warrior with little experience in war. It couldn’t be farther from the truth, however. Olik had more combat experience than any other Jötnar on Prometheus, and he intended on using that to make his people’s most hated of enemies pay.

“There are seven other legs in this base, each one leading to hangars, shipyards, and to the surface. Once they breach one, they will have partial access to this entire facility.”

He looked back to the blast door and then to his warriors.

“I’ve fought these creatures in more than a dozen battles, and I’ve never lost one. They are emotionless things, and they have no right to existence.”

A couple of the other Jötnar growled their agreement.

“They will not get past us, not on my watch. As long as one of us is still standing, they will be stuck outside. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Commander!”

The rank was an honorific one, given by the Jötnar to the one they recognized as their leader in combat. Gun, the first of the freed Jötnar, had taken the name. Ever since it had been used to signify anything from a lieutenant up to a general amongst their kind.

A great rumble came from the other side of the blast door, and Olik took it as an opportunity to shut down the visor on his PDS Alpha armor. All of them lifted their weapons to their shoulders and lowered their stances for balance and stability. It was a heady mixture of weaponry, with most having opted for the Bulldog’s assault cannon. A few had decided to make use of the 60mm railgun weapon that looked more like a tank cannon when held by one of them. Olik had opted for the Bulldog L56 Mark III weapon, based on nothing more than Gun’s recommendation.

“Olik, what’s your status?” asked Teresa.

The image of the Colonel appeared inside his visor, and he noticed the gunfire in the background.

“I’m at the blast door. Sensors indicate two of the Biorays have made it to the outer doors and are sending in troops.”

“You’re ready for them?”

“Affirmative, Colonel. We will hold them until you say otherwise.”

“Good work, Olik. Listen for my order. When it’s given, I will need you and your platoon to join me. You know where. Just listen for the code.”

“Understood, Colonel. What’s happening in the plaza?”

Teresa grimaced, and the video feed blurred a little as she opened fire. It took a few seconds before the feed leveled off, yet the gunfire continued in the background. A shape moved behind her, and he saw a massive blast engulf it.

“Olik, something managed to burrow through the ceiling. They must have found a way through the upper hangars and are trying to get through. We can hold them. You just stop them coming in from the flanks.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

A bright white light flickered along the blast door and then began to increase in size. Olik glanced down at the video feed from the other side of the door and noticed the large six-legged walker had moved back. In its place had moved a number of the smaller man-sized figures. One placed something in the damaged blast door, and then they moved back.

“Here they come. Hold your fire!” he called out.

The white light expanded, and with a dull crump, the entire passageway filled with dust and debris. A hole appeared the size of an armored vehicle, and through it emerged five of the bipedal warriors. Olik watched them enter with grim fascination, especially the odd way they moved, as though their joints were incorrectly fitted. They looked about as if admiring the passageway, but then one turned its attention directly at him. Its red eyes glowed behind a mask of dull iron.

I don’t think so.

Olik tilted his weapon just a fraction and pulled the trigger. The chain-fed ammunition feed rumbled and pumped rounds directly into the base of the gun. The creatures made it less than a meter before being hit by his gunfire. Olik cried out in pleasure at seeing the immense level of firepower coming from the Bulldog weapon. He looked to his comrades, none of whom had squeezed their triggers. Smoke filled the space between them and the breach, while the bodies of the enemy warriors shuddered and twitched on the ground. He lifted the weapon and grinned the widest smile he’d shown in months.

“That is one hell of a weapon.”

More noise continued through the breach, and the suit’s internal speakers amplified the sound so that he could hear what was coming for them. He turned back to the blast door and took aim once again. Another chunk of the blast door ripped off until a full third of it had been exposed. Now they came on, like a great wave of machines and the living dead. A good half of them fired their weapons as they came, and sparks flashed about the Jötnar as they were struck by scores of rounds.

“Now!”

The Bulldog weapons carried by the Jötnar would have done enough to wipe out the first wave. The L56 Mark III weapon was more than just a bigger version of the L52. They fired larger shells from their five short barrels, and the motorized loader sent in rounds via reinforced feeds running from the ammunition rack fitted to their backs. Previously, the marines of the Alliance had suffered badly in this kind of fight, and neither the L48, nor its successor the L52, had proven enough to hold back a tide of Biomech warriors. This time it was different, and the barrage of large caliber shells tor the enemy apart.

“To the left,” shouted one of the Red Watch.

Olik spotted the shapes he was pointing to. It was a pair of the six-legged walkers moving through the massive breach. They used their front legs to increase the size of the breach while continuing forward. Weapon mounts hung on their flanks, like panniers on a beast of burden, and bristling with small and medium caliber guns.

“Gunners, bring down those beasts!”

Until now the four Jötnar carrying the 60mm railguns had been waiting. Two were positioned on each flank, and all held the massive cannon sized weapons at waist height. Olik put down some fire onto the first of the machines but simply drew its attention. A machinegun weapon blasted him and put a series of dents and small holes into the shoulder plating of his armor. He felt pain in his arm but just shook his body and growled.