Battle for Karnak (Star Crusades: Mercenaries, Book 4)

by Thomas, Michael G.

  "Very well," said Captain Delatorre, "Take us further into the ice field. Bring our bow around and target their weapon system. Give them a volley."

  "Captain," Five-Seven answered.

  The huge vessel swung about along its axis and away from the current course to aim its primary weapons. Six long barrels extended out to the front, four providing the output emitters for 255mm particle cannons. These were upgraded versions of the guns fitted to the latest Crusader Class heavy cruisers. Between each pair of guns sat a single 255mm mass driver. These weapons were a holdover to the old designs, purely to give the ship a usable long-range bombardment cannon.

  "Ship targeted, firing now."

  The vibration was enough that those on the bridge felt the mass driver cannons fire in sequence. They used powerful electromagnetics to hurl formidable projectiles towards the enemy at hypersonic speeds. As each fired, another loaded and fired again. Ten shots from each barrel and then the system paused to reset and reload.

  "First volley gone. Particle cannons lined up and ready."

  "Good, very good," said Captain Delatorre.

  They watched quietly as the shells made their way to the target. Though travelling at high-speed, they were unguided, and there was more than enough time for the enemy vessel to change course. As expected, they rotated away and boosted their engines.

  "Fire the cannons."

  This time the four particle cannons opened fired in a computer-controlled sequence. This used less power than the usual short, concentrated burst, and could therefore be a longer volley. It took little more than the blink of an eye for the first shot to pass directly in front of the Wildfire Class cruiser. Five-Seven smiled as the second one struck it in the bow, and then followed up by more heavy hits.

  "Good hits, her bow has been crippled."

  Captain Delatorre rubbed his chin as he watched from the telescopes. Ice blocked the view, forcing him to rely on the passive scans of the science operatives. Then it cleared to show the cruiser.

  "There she is. Show me more."

  The view flickered as the lens doubler kicked in, immediately providing a critical boost to magnification, at the expense of stability. The analysis engine removed out of focus frames and movement to provide a precise image of the ship. The vessel looked intact, but a great cloud of black and grey now shrouded her bow.

  "Detecting more launches, she is still functional," said Five-Seven.

  Captain Delatorre lifted his hand and selected additional sections along the length of the ship.

  "Cripple her, and then move us deeper into the field. It's time to go dark."

  Five-Seven issued the orders while the Captain examined the mapping data.

  I need to send a priority data packet to Spartan and Colonel Gun.

  He brought up a video scanner and entered his security codes. The next burst of mass driver fire slammed into the enemy ship. The effect from the impact of the heavy shells was devastating, and he averted his eyes as part of the central superstructure tore away.

  "This is Captain Delatorre, of the Alliance warship ANS Titan, to deputy commander of the IAB, Colonel Gun. We have been patrolling the Agriphos Ice field for three days now and have detailed information on Anicinàbe ship and troop movements."

  A white flash on the screen showed a main engine exploding on the Anicinàbe cruiser. As the light faded, the crippled cruiser twisted lifelessly, and smaller flashes marked the evacuation of the crew in lifeboats.

  "We have been engaged by Anicinàbe forces and are withdrawing, as per orders. Tactical data is attached, but the overall assessment is clear and simple."

  He licked his lips, knowing only too well how this information would be treated back at the IAB headquarters at Taxxu. The clans of the Anicinàbe had appeared in multiple places along the border, and reports of them travelling peacefully through Byotai space. It was a strange time, and one that left him feeling a little uneasy.

  "As expected, the Anicinàbe are on the move in this region. A very large contingent is mobilising with the resources for a major operation . We have warships, supply vessels, and large numbers of troop transports. Some bear new markings not in our database. They should be ready to move on in a week, perhaps two at the most."

  He looked to Five-Seven before reaching his conclusion. The mapping data showed all the moons, and the position of Anicinàbe ships over the last few days. The patterns were becoming harder to ignore.

  "It is my belief that these growing numbers are preparing to move on the major planets in this sector, and of those, Karnak is the most direct and significant of them. They have the potential to bring tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of new warriors to the fight. Standard journey time at this point in the system cycle is at least two months, perhaps even three using standard engines."

  He paused as he ran the numbers in his head.

  "That gives a window of around two and a half to three months. They could be at Karnak in early January. Recommend contact with ground forces on Karnak to prepare for this."

  He stopped as a gentle alert sounded through the ship. Five-Seven looked on impassively as he brought up detailed scans of the dangerous route ahead through the field. It offered excellent cover and places to hide, while being potentially disastrous to shipping.

  "Captain, I recommend your harness; this may be a little rough."

  He tagged several objects and enlarged them.

  "We have ten fighters moving in to intercept."

  Captain Delatorre sighed and leaned forward to pause the recording. He had much more to say, but right now he needed to make sure his ship was safe. The last thing he wanted was for ANS Titan to find itself trapped or disabled. All their technology would count for nothing if they found themselves stuck out here.

  "Take us in deeper, and if they get close, hit them."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Five-Seven pointed ahead as they moved between the large obstructions.

  "Communications window will be lost in nine seconds, Captain."

  "Understood."

  The engines pulsed with power as the mighty Confederate Class ship dropped down closer to the moon, pushing through thin clouds of ice like an ancient ice-breaker. Frozen particles separated, leaving a sparkling trail behind them. Then came the first formation of fighters. The wedge-shaped spacecraft were standard issues heavy fighters of the kind often seen in Byotai space. The nearest opened fire; its guns sending bright pulses of lights towards the Alliance warship and overheating guns blasting through the ice clouds.

  "Destroy them," said Five-Seven, his voice lacking any form of emotion.

  The stern guns opened fire, using a heady mixture of particle blaster and coilgun turrets. Though not as heavy as the broadsides, the stern weaponry was still formidable and quickly destroyed three fighters, scattering the others in a panic of gunfire and explosions. A smile even formed across Captain Delatorre's face, right up to when the warning alarms sounded, and the forward view shifted to show something he hadn't expected.

  "Captain, another ship. Wildfire Class. No, three ships, same class and preparing weapons," said Five-Seven.

  Captain Delatorre shook his head in grudging admiration.

  "The cunning dogs, it's a trap."

  He licked his lips, almost enjoying the change in pace. Gone was the boredom of routine and patrol, in its place the adrenalin and fear that came with space combat.

  "Ready forward guns, target the first two vessels, and give them a volley."

  The guns started their sequence before he could even continue speaking.

  "Prepare the flank guns and ready the engines for rotation. Let's show these nomads how the Alliance can fight."

  As the ship vibrated from the volleys of gunfire, he reached forward and activated the communication system. His message might be unfinished, but his training quickly kicked in. Even though he was supremely confident in their ability to fight and win, there was always the chance something could go wrong. His ship and crew were importa
nt, but their job was more so. Without information and intelligence, his people were fighting a battle with their eyes shut. ANS Titan was the closest ship to the enemy reinforcements, and even partial data would be important to command at Taxxu. As soon as the data packet had been sent, he relaxed and turned his attention to the approaching ships.

  "Report."

  "Damage to both vessels, they are splitting apart and deploying fighters."

  "Concentrate mass drivers on the ships, and use the particle blasters on the faster fighters. Thin the herd."

  Five-Seven looked confused, and Captain Delatorre nodded to the screen.

  "Their fighters. Thin them out."

  "Sir!"

  CHAPTER TWO

  200km South Free City of Melantias, Stone Teeth Hills, Northlands

  18 October 2472

  A thin cloud of dust swirled through the canyon, periodically reducing visibility to less than fifty metres before suddenly clearing. Tall, rocky cliffs reached up high, leaving the more vertical sections clear of the never-ending dust that drifted along the surface of Karnak. The Northlands were almost as barren as the Great Sea region that separated the Khagi Mountains from the Great Depression in the South. A few low hills and canyons punctuated the vastness of the territory. This canyon was one of a small number that ran in a semi-circle around the southern perimeter of Melantias.

  "Here they come."

  The voice crackled inside Spartan's helmet as he waited patiently. Another unit nearly two kilometres away had the exit point of the narrow pass covered, and by using direct-line-of-sight laser communication, they could share data without fear of being detected and tracked. The new data updated on his visor, showing the approaching vehicles, speed, heading, size, and more. They were still dots on the horizon. He looked back to his armoured companion.

  "Flash reports have just arrived, routed through to us via Melantias. IAB encoded."

  Syala deactivated her visor and blinked awkwardly as a flicker of stray light caught her eyes. The armour shifted silently, revealing her smooth face, newly bleached blonde hair, and stone cold looks. She was a beautiful woman; with something wild about her that seemed to draw Spartan to her. It wasn't the shape of her face, but more the fire in her eyes. He felt something in his chest and grinned, even though she couldn't see his face behind his armour.

  "I don't know how they got them through the jamming. This one is seriously corrupted. Still looks like enough made it through, and the packets have been read by one person only."

  "Khan?"

  Spartan removed his faceplate and grinned. He was well into late middle age now, yet for all those years of conflict, torture, and violence he looked tougher than ever. His face was rough, and thin stubble ran down his checks, leading to a greying beard. At his side was the small form of the XC1 prototype carbine. A piece of equipment Spartan would never be apart from.

  "Yeah. He's flagged the critical points and washed out the rest."

  "How kind," said Syala, with her classic, sarcastic flair.

  Syala was more than just Spartan's lover. She was also his second-in-command for these kinds of commando missions. Normally, Khan would have taken that role, but for the last few days he'd taken over as the military advisor for the entire Melantias fortress. Spartan almost felt sorry for the volunteer garrison with him in charge.

  He will push them, and push them hard.

  Spartan knew they needed this discipline and motivation. He, Khan, and their old comrade, Gun had seen this kind of fighting before, and much worse in the past. Back in their first war, they'd fought in space and on the ground in a hundred locations. He'd fought Zealots, mercenaries, Echidna foot soldiers, and of course, their Biomech masters. The clan warriors from the wilderness held no fears for Spartan, but he worried about these Byotai citizen soldiers.

  They are tough. I'll give them that. But when it comes down to it, they'll have a problem.

  Spartan nodded towards the closing column of vehicles as he brought up the reports from Khan. After a couple of seconds, his expression changed, and he shook his head.

  "What is it?"

  Spartan took in a slow breath and let it out even more slowly.

  "Euryale and New Carlos had to return to the Taxxu shipyards, orders from Orion Command. That leaves just Titan , and she's carrying a skeleton unit on board."

  Syala still didn't quite see the issue.

  "And? It's not like we have authority to use them down here."

  Spartan nodded in agreement.

  "You're not wrong, Syala. Still, we've done it before, haven't we? I like knowing we have friends up there, for when it really hits the fan."

  She smiled.

  "True, but that was a pretty small affair, don't you think?"

  He laughed, though he kept his volume low.

  "Nothing is a small affair with you."

  She lifted an eyebrow in coy surprise, and then her eyes narrowed. She said nothing, but both turned their attention on the column. Something hovered above the vehicles and then rushed off into the distance.

  "Alliance recon drones," said Spartan, "I wonder where they found those?"

  He activated the tactical communication network, a system heavily encoded, and with short-range access to Alliance field commanders only.

  "Trouble with that kind of tech...is it is only as good as the man operating it."

  "Or woman," added Syala.

  "True. You have no problem handling much, do you?"

  As she returned the sly grin, her eyes lit up. The small drone dropped from the sky as though it had been killed in mid-flight, and then vanished from view. There was no flash from gunfire, and the little unit didn't even kick up dust when it struck the ground. She continued to shake her head.

  "Well, that was a bit of an anti-climax, wasn't it?"

  They spoke quietly to each other, and it was almost impossible to see or hear them from a distance of ten metres away, or more. Both lay prone, their heads down, and lightly dusted in the powdery material that littered the surface of Karnak.

  "Yes, but there's another problem, though, and this one comes straight from Captain Delatorre."

  That seemed to pique her interest immediately. The Captain was a stickler for the rules, and if something worried him, it was probably worth listening to.

  "Okay?"

  "He has tagged dozens more clan ships entering the system, and massing around Agriphos. There are a lot of warships, but even more troop transports and heavy haulage vessels. This is not the normal migration we've seen in the last weeks."

  "He thinks they are planning an operation somewhere?"

  Spartan looked off into the horizon. He sometimes found it hard wondering why the Byotai would fight so hard for such a miserable place, but then he remembered the many other worlds he'd visited. The fiery pit of Prometheus, or the industrial and rain swept Kerberos.

  They can't all be like Prime, can they?

  As he thought about the different worlds, he noticed Syala looking right back at him. His daydreaming seemed to get worse, and he realised he was not on his game.

  That's enough, you fool. The mission!

  It took a second for him to get his bearings in the conversation.

  "Not just somewhere, Syala. He says they are heading right here, and at speed. He's staying in place as long as he can, but they are looking for him, and that's gonna screw our long-term plan."

  Syala looked confused.

  "I thought all of the Spires were already here? Nakoma won't like anybody else moving in on her turf."

  "Yeah, that's what worries me. Delatorre says they have already sent scouts here, and there's an entire fleet assembling at Agriphos. They could be here in three months, maybe less."

  His mouth opened in a sly, but silent laugh.

  "And that means it will be as bad as it can get."

  "Yeah, and then some..."

  Something glinted, and Syala's attention moved to the vehicles. She whispered to him and activated her
faceplate. It moved into position, and once again she blended into the background.

  "They are nearly at the outer marker. It's time. Any longer and its going to be too dark."

  Spartan said nothing, but activated his own plate and concentrated on the distant vehicles. This mission needed finesse and stealth, and though something of a wildcard, Syala could easily play the close combat monster, or the subtle and discreet killer. It was why Spartan had roped her in to assist in running this ad hoc unit. She now used skills learnt over many years as the joint leader of the Black Widows mercenaries. As the name suggested, her armour was dull black, faded by wear and dust. She was armoured from head to toe, though the extra jets on her backpack made her look as bulky as Spartan. Syala tagged the enemy clan warriors as they became visible. The data then transferred to Spartan via the short-range digital networking.

  "Got it. Keep your heads down. Do not let them spot you. We need the darkness for the withdrawal, but I'd like some daylight to pick over those vehicles."

  "Understood," replied Syala.

  She looked up.

  "Not much light left now."

  Spartan kept his head down low as he watched the column of Spires soldiers moving towards them. From his position along the crest of the sandy dune, he had the perfect view of the column, and the small scouting contingent exploring several hundred metres ahead. These were some of the more feral clan warriors, and they rode the reptilian beasts they'd recently fought in the siege.

  "Those things again," muttered Spartan.

  The animals sniffed the air, but none noticed anything out of the ordinary and continued onwards, their riders clinging on in silence. All carried long rifles in their arms, on their backs, or fitted to special brackets atop the mighty lizards.

  "What's that?" Syala asked.

  Her eyesight lowered, and she tagged something moving to the flank of the creatures.

  "More Sekieki?"

  She shook her head gently.

  "No, these are a lot smaller. Like big dogs."

  Spartan spotted a beast moving up the side of an embankment. It sniffed and snarled before being called back by a robed rider.