Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift (38 page)

He turned his attention back to the rest of the Defeated. The motley collection of warships and transports slipped through until none remained but the two ancient Arks and the myriad of Tomb Ships.

That’s better. No, I shall wait and prepare for the next phase. The end will come soon enough, and we must be ready.

* * *

Battleship Retribution, Black Rift, Helios Sector

The first squads of Alliance marines had already broken through the port hangar bays. Spartan took two hits to his leg, but nothing was going to stop him from reaching the largest and most significant part of the ship’s interior. Two groups of Thegns split off to cover their approach as well as five Ghost Warriors. Ahead of Spartan was the vast curved shape of the arena and its intricate sculptures and markings.

Different entrance to last time.

This was something far grander than the way he'd entered the place before. As they ran up its length, he wondered if all the battleships were fitted out in this way, or it was just something for his own ship. He kept moving and noted that the boarding parties had now pushed a third their way into the ship. They were spread out and meeting resistance at every point. As he had predicted, their heavy infantry had taken the most direct route. It was the only point where his defending troops had been completely routed.

That's where they will be.

Spartan reached the top of the ramp and entered the structure. The mist was no longer there, and this time he could see halfway into the blackness. He glanced back to watch the crowd of hundreds of Thegns plus half of the seventy-five Ghost Warriors. For the briefest of moments, he suspected they might have held back to let him go at it alone. Two of the mechanical Ghost Warriors stopped alongside him as though about to question what he was doing. One was completely black, save for the scratched paintwork and armor. The second was shorter, with thick legs and two arms on one side. The other side was taken up by an odd gun arrangement that merged back into the armor.

"What?" he asked.

The machines said something in their own tongue that Spartan couldn't quite understand. The suit's sensors detected something, and he looked inside the arena to see multiple shapes ahead. At first he thought it was his Thegns, but then he spotted the larger shapes moving with them.

Jötnar!

Wheeled robots raced to the flanks, and even more Thegns were already taking high positions throughout the arena. Spartan took a step forward and then another. In seconds, he was moving at a fast walk to the center of the open space. The Ghost Warriors fanned out to create a thin wall just two warriors deep. There were gaps between them so that the Thegns could move freely. Gunfire licked down at them, but Spartan had already sent in eight squads of Thegns to attack those on the high ground. The taller, black armored machine spoke to Spartan.

"Do not betray us, Spartan. We are all watching you."

Spartan could feel the blood pumping, and the mere suggestion that he would betray anybody was too much. He swung his right arm low and smashed the blade into the center of the machine's torso. It grunted but that was enough. Spartan pointed both of his arms at the thing and thought the command to attack. Two blue pulses flashed out, and the machine disintegrated, sending chunks of metal and flesh across the ramp. He looked at the other Ghost Warriors that watched on in silence. Even the Thegns had stopped.

"Never, ever question my loyalty!"

He turned; presenting his back to them, and then pointed his bloodied right arm toward the enemy forces.

"Now…attack!"

The shapes ahead of them were becoming clearer as a skirmish line of Thegns charged ahead. Both sides reached a hundred meters when Spartan spotted their Thegns drops to the ground. At first he thought they had all been hit, and then one by one they opened fire. Massed railguns ripped into his own forces, and dozens of his Thegns were killed or wounded. Spartan kept on moving and aimed his arms at the targets. He could see all manner of foes, from the Jötnar encased in armor to the Vanguards, Marines, and the Thegns.

"There!"

Right behind them was the shape of a Biomech commander.

One of The Twelve.

"That is one of the traitors, the rebel Twelve. We will take their heads. Follow me!"

The hundred meters between the two sides was like no battle scene Spartan could ever have imagined. There was no cover, just a great open space with warriors on both sides trying to get to grips with the other. He made it to the first groups of Thegns and butchered three with a single cut. At a similar height to a Jötnar, he felt like a giant. Each time he swung his mechanical arms, he killed more of them. Marines scattered to avoid his attacks, but then he was amongst them. A SAAR robot tried to avoid him, but it was too late. With a quick step, he smashed his foot into the turret and yanked the front apart with his right arm. Pieces of metal flew in all directions. Two Vanguards followed next, and they opened fire at close range. The internal warnings flashed as impacts were registered.

"No, not today!"

Spartan took three steps to the right, ducked under the arms of one of the Vanguards, and then punched upward. The advanced Marine armor lifted off the ground and flew back to land flat on the ground. Spartan jumped after it and stabbed his blades at its chest. Another arm blocked his path, and he twisted about to strike again and found himself face to face with a trio of Jötnar, each resplendent in crimson armor. Something akin to a powerful drug pumped through his veins as the suit pushed him on to greater feats. He recognized the face inside the armor, and it set his veins alight with anger.

"Khan!" he hissed through his teeth.

He stabbed once, then twice, but one of the other Jötnar knocked him aside. Two more Thegns tried to grab at him; one even managed to put three rounds into his left arm, shattering the inbuilt guns.

"Fool."

A quick swipe cut the warrior down.

"Spartan?" Khan asked.

The Jötnar circled him warily. Attached to both of his arms were retractable blades, each one as big as a man and gleaming. The other two Jötnar were busy as the Ghost Warriors arrived and drove back the marines with a mixture of heavy weapons fire and brutal close combat attacks.

“Yes, it’s me…old friend.”

Spartan struck once, twice, and then underneath the Jötnar’s arms. A marine ran between them before being cut down by a pair of Thegns. Spartan ignored them and stepped around Khan, directly at the Biomech rebel. From his position, Spartan could see three of them, each a different color and specification. They had much in common with the Ghost Warriors, but their lack of uniformity marked them out as different.

I’m coming for you.

He made it three paces before Khan grabbed him around his shoulder and snapped him back. Hundreds of gunshots moved back and forth, but there was no way to find a frontline. The Thegns from both forces were intermingled and hacking away. Marines sheltered behind the dead and wounded, while Jötnar and Vanguards provided small clumps of armor, each group like a miniature bastion.

“Not yet, first you deal with me!” Khan growled.

Spartan staggered and then tipped over. The heavy weight of his armor pulled him down and straight to the ground. A Thegn and a marine ran to hold him down while an entire platoon of marines streamed past to engage the rest of his troops.

Yeah, that’s not good.

He struck out wildly and hit the marine, sending the poor man staggering about before he struck the ground. A Thegn leapt on him, and then the two vanished from view. The other Thegn was raising a carbine to shoot into his armor. Incredibly, the foot soldier managed to loose off a round before Spartan could shake himself free. He lifted to one knee and then came a powerful strike from below. Khan hit him hard in the torso, and Spartan was soon flying through the air. As he spun about, he could see the shapes of the Jötnar tearing through his Thegns with ease. Then he hit the ground with a crash.

“Spartan!” Khan shouted.

He charged him down like a wild rhinoceros. Spartan was up and braced himself.

Here he comes.

Spartan had just seconds, but it was enough to adopt a strong fighting stance. He remembered his friendly bouts with Khan in the past, and also that for some reason his foe would not shoot him.

He wants a prisoner. That is his weakness.

He flung down his arms and laughed.

“Come on, Khan, is that all you have to offer?”

The charging Jötnar missed by just a few centimeters as Spartan spun about and cut into the warrior’s flank. The short but razor sharp blades cut deep into the metal. Spartan howled at the sight of the trickle of blood that ran down from the gash. As Spartan laughed, he felt a dull pain in his lower body. He looked down and found a curved blade pushing out of his stomach. With a hiss it retracted, and another Jötnar moved around to face him. Blood dripped from the weapon as it took aim with its shoulder-mounted Gatling gun.

“Olik?”

There was a glimmer of recognition, perhaps even pity as the weapon opened fire. Spartan’s armor was resilient, but at a range of just three meters, the rounds easily penetrated the plating. Round after round ripped inside and damaged systems until one by one the internal modules failed. Spartan found himself almost immobile, with just one leg and his upper torso still able to move. He staggered back and tripped over a fallen Thegn. He dropped down, and only the intervention of his right arm stopped him crashing down face first.

“Protect him!” yelled a Ghost Warrior.

Four of them, each resplendent in their individual colors jumped past him and opened fire with their deadly weapons. Marines and Thegns were cut down, but the Jötnar simply ran straight at them. One vanished in a bright blue fireball, and then the Jötnar were on them. They stab, tore, and fired at close range until all four were nothing but shattered hulks, dripping flesh and blood.

Get up, you fool!

Spartan rose slowly, but Khan was there once more. They faced off against each other, a man encased in armor and a Jötnar in the same.

“I’m sorry,” said Khan.

He swung his right arm and embedded his weapon deep into the machine’s torso. The he took aim with his shoulder-mounted cannon. The gunfire ripped the armor apart until the wrecked machine dropped to the ground and fell to its side. Khan knelt down alongside the ruined form of his friend and yanked open the petals of armor around the torso. Blood and fluids flowed out to the ground, but there was little flesh, just the shattered remnants of an AI Core and the associated biological nervous system that was hardwired into the armor.

“What is this?” demanded Olik.

Khan smiled.

“It’s a flesh suit.”

A Thegn fired a burst, and two rounds struck Khan in the leg. He turned his gun around and blasted the creature without even looking at it.

“So where is Spartan?” asked Olik.

“Where he always is,” muttered Khan, “In the most dangerous place.”

Particle beam weaponry proved itself on the killing fields of the Black Rift. The explosive energy released by such weapons was capable of destroying fighters and small escorts in one shot. Later developments saw modifications that would allow repeated bursts of energy that could ripple through ship from bow to stern. None of these second-generation weapons would be ready for use against the Biomechs. If they had, there are some that postulate the outcome for worlds like Helios Prime might have been very different.

Direct Energy Weapons – An Introduction

Kha’Dri, Taxxu, Uncharted Space

Spartan shuddered at the shock of the gunfire. He could feel the hits where the armor registered the impacts. Each round shattered his body, yet the pain was more a notification than something that would affect him physically. By the time he lay on his back, the images and sounds had vanished, to be replaced by blackness. He opened his eyes but found nothing more.

So this is it? You die and there’s blackness?

Something pulled at him, like a giant magnet that wanted to suck him to another place. He could see shapes off into the distance and the pull of the armor.

Of course, the Ghost Warriors never truly die.

The armor moved closer and closer until he could feel the sensors and the connection. Then came another flash and the blackness returned.

Is it time?

Spartan knew the sound. It was the ancient machine, the leader of the rebels. He shook his head and tried to open his eyes wider. Still there was nothing but the blackness. He thought back to that last intimate discussion between the rebel, him, and Khan. They had discussed the plan for victory, the plan for the sacrifice.

The plan.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the machine’s voice. It was emotionless, yet somehow it felt warm, almost comforting, a reminder of a time before the most recent battles and bloodshed. There was another flash, and he was there, back on the ship with the two of them.

* * *

Spartan looked at them as though floating in the room. The figures had a misty look about them and the temperature was cool. He was inside an empty briefing room aboard an Alliance warship, empty other than for the three of them. There were no emergency alarms, alerts, or any signs of the urgent battle currently taking place at the Black Rift.

“General Rivers will never go for this,” said Khan.

The Jötnar marched back and forth, impatient and a little angry. He stopped and pointed at Z’Kanthu. Neither he nor Spartan wore their armor, but the machine, as always, was encased in its thick plating.

“You’re telling me that they did something to us when we were prisoners?”

Z’Kanthu remained motionless.

“Yes. Both of you have been prepared, ready for their call. I have seen this before. It is how we used to force others to fight with us.”

Spartan shook his head and walked up to his friend.

“I didn’t believe it either, but it makes sense. Remember the escape? We tried for weeks, months to get out. And then somehow we got out. Why?”

Khan rubbed his chin.

“But what if they just kill us? How will that help us?”

Z’Kanthu, that ancient machine, raised one of his battered looking limbs and directed it right at Spartan.

“We will have to show them we are of more value alive. No matter what, they will sacrifice thousands to take The Twelve prisoner. If they succeed, they will activate you, and you will be their puppet. Their hatred for the last of The Twelve will outweigh they suspicions of you.”

The three were silent for a short moment.

“If you will trust me, I can use your mind as a temporary repository, a place to hide away my essence. I know the technology, and I know the ships. Destroying their troops or ships will not end this war. It will be won by destroying their heart and mind. When the time is right, I will…”

Wake up!

The sound of the machine pounded in his head.

Wake up, now!

* * *

Kha’Dri, Taxxu, Uncharted Space

Spartan opened his eyes and found himself trapped, encased in metal, and floating in fluid. A soft pipe ran to his mouth and throat. He tried to speak, but instead of words there was just a dull echo. He twisted, pushed, and then he was falling. The view was blurred, but then the impact with the ground made him retch. He began to choke, his vision blurred, and then he clawed at his face. The pipe and mask easily pulled away, and he was immediately blinded by light.

“What’s going on?” he yelled through his burning throat.

Spartan rolled about on the floor, the fluid still dripping from his chest and face. He lifted his arms to wipe it away from his eyes.

My arm, so the bastards did do at least one good thing.

The stump was still there, but the modified limb he’d received on Earth was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found the mechanical limb that seemed to have much in common with the flesh and skin of the Thegns. He looked down to his middle section and limbs; he was covered from neck to toe in the flesh armor. For a horrible moment he thought he might even be a Thegn; that was until he saw a reflection of himself in the pools of fluid on the ground.

Okay, what now?

His memories, especially those that had been suppressed were rushing back; visions of battles, people, and events that he’d forgotten about for weeks. Each moved back with a vengeance. It was those of his family and friends that were most prominent. Khan and the other Jötnar, the marines he’d fought alongside, but Teresa and Jack were the greatest of them all. He felt a pang of loss and separation. He was a long way from them, and it felt an impossible distance to overcome.

Spartan, are you ready?

The words from Z’Kanthu sounded little different to as if he had been standing alongside him. The words were so real that he even looked around to find him.

“Where are you?”

His eyes burned from the fluid, but he ignored it and looked around at his surroundings. The empty capsule he’d been inside was torn open and shattered; its embryonic sack flaccid and useless. Pipes hung down, and more fluid continued to drip out. The room was not large, hexagonal in shape, and with more of the objects concealed behind the thick, semi-translucent skin. He moved to the nearest and pushed at it. Something inside moved about.

What is it?

The voice of his machine friend returned.

The connection to the machine network, you need to access it. Get me access, and I will do the rest.

Spartan looked around and back to the shattered sack he had occupied.

No, the other one.

Spartan’s eyes returned to the previous sack. He moved close and then ripped at it with his hands. The material was taut and easily broke under his fingers. Fluid poured out, and then came the shaking, panicked figure of a creature. It stumbled about on the ground and then tried to lift itself up. It was taller than Spartan, but much thinner and similar in many ways to Thayara.

“Spartan,” it hissed.

The sound wasn’t familiar. It said more, but the words meant nothing to him. He looked about for a weapon and found little of use, so he stepped in front of the creature and pulled his arm back to strike. The creature lifted its arms defensively.

“One-Zero…”

Spartan ignored and struck it hard in the throat. It dropped to the ground choking, and Spartan stepped inside the small cubicle area. The floor was slick with fluid and undamaged pipes and cables hung down. The voice of Z’Kanthu returned.

My guess was correct. Their command structure is not based on the homeworld anymore. I am detecting the source is somewhere deep inside this ship. I will release you and move into their computer system.

Spartan laughed as he listened to the machine.

“Are you kidding? How are you going to do that?”

Yes, Spartan, I am. I will move into their system and locate their Core. But first I need you to listen very carefully.

* * *

Battleship Retribution, Black Rift, Helios Sector

Khan lifted a Thegn and tossed its broken body directly at the cowering Ghost Warrior. The body struck the machine in the torso, and it staggered back two paces. It tried to right itself as dozens of Thegns swarmed over and stabbed and shot at it. Chunks of metal tore off as they dragged it down like stone-age men bringing down a mammoth.

“Khan, are you there?” asked a familiar voice on the secure channel.

“Who is this?”

He swallowed, almost fearful to believe.

“You know who it is, you fool. Z’Kanthu survived the trip. I’m out and on one of their ships. I’m sending coordinates to you now.”

The audio vanished and was replaced by a howling sound. Then it returned.

“Spartan?”

“Yes, of course it’s me.”

Khan shook his head in amazement.

“The plan worked? You are inside their command structure?”

The howling returned, and Spartan’s voice reduced substantially in volume.

“Get a message to Anderson; the large orbital facility, at these coordinates. This is where their leaders’ bodies are located. Everything they hold dear lives inside this ship. The commanders of the battleships, their bodies are all located here, just like I was.”

A Thegn wearing the colors chosen before the battle was knocked to the side by a Ghost Warrior. Khan grabbed the machine, tore a limb off, and then cut a gouge through its torso with his gun. He forced his arm inside and ripped it open. Fluid and loose flesh dropped out, but no body.

“What about these soldiers? Where are their bodies?”

Spartan sounded as though he was laughing, but it could easily have been interference.

“They are called the Defeated. Their flesh bodies are on the battleships. They are not allowed a place on the command ship until they are victorious.”

“But they gave you a place?”

This time there was a pause.

“I killed their greatest traitor. That bought me a lot of credit. Look, Khan, get a message to Anderson and fast. I don’t have much time. They will know I am out. Tell him this is where we can end this. Call off the battle and get through the Rift.”

Khan took aim at the next two Ghost Warriors while Olik moved to his flank to add his own fire. Dozens more crimson armored Jötnar moved ahead and out of the bloodied arena.

“What about Z’Kanthu? We’ve seen the footage, you really killed him?”

Again the audio crackled.

“Another time, Khan. His mind is intact and exactly where we hid it. Right now, I’m looking for a body for him. Get them here, fast!”

It had taken his built-in computer system that long to identify the area of space that Spartan was referring to. It was nowhere near their current position but thousands of light years away. He almost discounted it when realizing the location matched the data they already had on the enemy domain. It was one of the unknown enemy orbital facilities.

He’s at their homeworld, the crazy fool. Z’Kanthu was right. We hit their heart and war is won.

“I’ll do what I can. Are you safe?”

“Not even close, Khan. I’m unarmed, and I’ve got no idea where I am. Just bring them through the Rift and get to this location.”

“Bring who?”

The laughter coming back put a smile on Khan’s face.

“Everybody!”

Three clicks followed, and then the channel died. He looked to his left; half expecting to see someone telling him it was a joke. Instead it was a single Vanguard. The machine stomped on by and then disappeared out of the area and toward the enemy. He moved on ahead and to the top of the ramp. From there he could see down into the vastness of the ship. The multiple levels, gantries, and walkways gave the vessel the impression of a vast power complex or work site.

This ship is almost ours.

He tried not to think of how many warriors they’d already lost in the assault. There were hundreds of bodies on the ground, with many more inside the arena. Streaks of gunfire blasted in all directions from warriors fighting desperate small battles throughout the ship.

“Khan, we have troops in their CIC, or whatever they call it,” said Major Terson.

Khan took aim at a Biomech Ghost Warrior and put a burst into its torso as it struggled to escape. The Major continued to speak even as Khan kept shooting.

“As soon as we arrived, their commander dropped dead, not a mark on him. I’ve never seen anything like it. There are no bodies inside the suits, just the bare minimum of flesh.”