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

by Thomas, Michael G.

  "Are you sure you can do this? Command the city’s defences with so much back stabbing going on?"

  Olik nodded, his pained face visible due to the missing helmet he'd left back inside the city.

  "Yeah, not a problem. I promised Spartan and Khan I'd be up soon, and I need to do this. You've seen what this city is like. Give it another week, and they'll forget to even post sentries."

  As they glanced back, Sergeant Tyler nodded towards the multiple flags now fluttering atop the battered city walls. They gave the impression of a great dam designed to hold back a lake filled with water. Yet Olik had spent enough time here to know it was people, arguments, and politics sheltering behind the defences. Since Spartan had left, he'd heard nothing but trouble between the local settlers, newly arrived Exiles, and the daily arrival of many more.

  "True," said the Sergeant, "We win the battle, and the very next day they are arguing."

  Both moved on a little further until at the far end of the line of militia. Olik gazed to his left as he moved down the line, checking each in utter silence until reaching the middle of the line. He stopped and turned to face them. The guard unit of twenty soldiers nicknamed Bloods.

  "Attention!"

  The sound echoed like a great monster, and it came from both sides of the line. Olik glanced to the right, doing his best to hide his smile as he saw the great shape of Yunn. Moving in the other direction he watched as Reshal walked along the line and muttered at the soldiers to get into formation. Olik laughed quietly.

  The Iron brothers, they are exactly what I need.

  The group shuffled into something resembling standing at attention. Sergeant Tyler moved from Olik's side and snapped at those that seemed incapable of showing any sign of discipline. Finally, they were still, and his three deputies looked back in silence.

  "Soldiers of the Melantias Brigade. I bring news from the South."

  Hundreds of individuals waited in silence, keen to hear the news.

  "Major Spartan has begun the assault at Hyndla, and the struggle for Karnak begins in earnest."

  He looked off to the South, the direction leading to Montu in the central region on the continent, and the ten cities of the great Southern Depression thousands of kilometres further away.

  "And that means Nakoma will be faced with tales of defeat and destruction tonight."

  He grinned, baring many of his teeth in a wide smile.

  "And when that happens, she will be pissed, and I mean, seriously pissed. Nakoma has more aircraft than we do, and far more soldiers. She will hit out in every direction from the cities in the South, to the scattered settlements off to the East."

  He lifted his hands and pointed to the walls.

  "Tenskwatawa intends on attacking Montu and ending this war, but that will not happen today, or perhaps even this year. Nakoma will hit this city again, and when she does, it will come to you, the reliable and trusted soldiers of the Melantias Brigade to defend it. One thousand of the bravest and brightest in this city."

  He pointed to them.

  "Will you defend the city again?"

  The Brigade lifted their weapons, cheering Olik and the city repeatedly. When they finally quietened down, he asked the next question.

  "Now, I understand you have questions for me?"

  One of the militia raised a hand, and Sergeant Tyler approached to ask him. It didn't take long, and he looked back to shout to Olik.

  "The Private wishes to know if we will join Tenskwatawa's Army of the North in the final attack on Montu, when it happens."

  Olik nodded slowly.

  "You have my word, as commander of the city garrison, and of the Melantias Brigade, when the time comes, you will join in with the final assault on Montu, and you will have the position of honour in the assault."

  Sergeant Tyler moved back to Olik, leaning in close to whisper.

  "Position of honour? Will Tenskwatawa even let us join his new army?"

  Olik laughed at that.

  "Who cares what Tenskwatawa wants? I go where I please, and this Brigade will come with me."

  "And if Tenskwatawa objects?"

  Olik's eyes opened wide and became almost bloodshot.

  "I don't think he's stupid enough to make that mistake. He wants to defeat Nakoma, does he not? Or does he want a fight with me? Trust me, he has a better shot with Nakoma!"

  Olik then moved his attention back to the Brigade, while the Sergeant did his best to digest what he'd just heard.

  "Very well. Today we will work on your marksmanship. A good soldier must be a good shot, and I intend on making you the best shots in the Army of the North."

  He signalled off to the East where the training range waited empty, just beyond the landing pads.

  "Officers, prepare to march."

  The Iron Brothers moved to their corresponding positions in the line and repeated the orders of Olik to the letter.

  "Brigade, to the range!"

  * * *

  Tenskwatawa did not look amused. With just one eye and a scarred body, he looked the part of the holy leader of the Exiles. Though Byotai, his face betrayed some Anicinàbe features that marked him out technically as a half-blood. It meant little on Karnak, but inside the Empire there was still a great deal of stigma towards those not of pure Byotai origins. As always, his face and arms were bare, and in his right hand rested the long, heavy staff he was never without.

  From his position on top of the wall, Tenskwatawa watched the massive formation of Byotai volunteers march away, heading to the improvised training ground. His own Exiles had used the shooting ground to hone their firearms skills, but this alien seemed more interested in instilling violence and discipline in the militia.

  "I thought I explained that this animal was to have only a small company to train as guards for the city. He was supposed to be incapacitated and unable to perform any useful military function."

  He sniffed the air again, and sighed as though relaxing.

  "It is important he feels valuable in the city, but he cannot be allowed to interfere with our plans here on Karnak."

  The hooded figure of Isi, his new second-in-command of the Exiles bowed slightly. Unlike Tenskwatawa, Isi was clearly a half-blood, with the tall shape of the Anicinàbe but broad shoulders and bony face of the Byotai. His armour was similar in design to his leaders, though his arms were covered, and instead of a staff, he bore a looted Anicinàbe rifle at his shoulder.

  "Yes, Tenskwatawa, your orders were clear. This alien has proven a charismatic leader and rallied many of those that fought in the battle to his cause."

  "I see," said Tenskwatawa, "And what cause might this be?"

  The officer appeared surprised.

  "Victory, my Lord. Defeat of Nakoma and freedom for Karnak."

  Tenskwatawa smiled as he listened.

  "Of course. A worthy ambition we all seek to achieve."

  Tenskwatawa gave nothing away as he listened, until finally Isi finished. He then indicated towards the marching soldiers.

  "Tell me, how many volunteers has this mercenary managed to add to this Brigade of his?"

  The officer bowed again, and this time looked nervously at the soldiers.

  "My Lord, Captain Olik has drawn one thousand sets of weapons and armour from the stores. Most of their equipment comes from the Helion supplies, or from equipment taken from the..."

  Tenskwatawa swiped his right hand at an invisible annoyance.

  "A thousand. That is a not an insignificant amount of equipment. Perhaps I should speak with him."

  Isi shook his head.

  "I do not think that is...ideal."

  He hesitated, perhaps nervous of speaking his mind too soon.

  "Go on. Explain."

  "Well, my Lord. This Olik is the single remaining representative of the Alliance here, and he is a close ally of Khan and Spartan. If we push him, he may stray from our control."

  "Good, very good. You are mastering the subtleties of command, Isi. Something I
wish our dear Governor could manage."

  Both looked back into the city, a place now thriving with thousands more settlers. Tiny businesses popped up in every direction, and all seemed content in their new home. They then looked out at the assembled vehicles. To the right were many smaller units of his own troops, his Exile brothers forming the majority.

  "We can reach the capital in four weeks, using night and camouflage to hide our progress from Nakoma and her forces, but one error and she will hit us hard. Spartan has already started his attack in the South."

  He licked his lips and turned to his officer.

  "Everything is proceeding as planned. When Spartan and his mercenaries have exhausted themselves in a futile engagement with Nakoma, we will march on the capital."

  Isi looked surprised.

  "You do not believe Spartan can succeed in the South?"

  "Succeed? Oh, I am counting on his success. And when Nakoma sees the damage this Human is causing, she will send everything she has to eliminate him in a final bloody assault."

  Isi still seemed confused.

  "Spartan is no fool, though. How will Nakoma be able to eliminate Spartan and his forces if they have gone underground? He will not allow her to use her superior forces until he knows he can win. This could go on for years."

  Tenskwatawa frowned upon hearing the admiration Isi had for the Human commander. Spartan was a good soldier; of that he had no doubt, but he was also an arrogant hothead who thought this world could be reclaimed for the Byotai.

  "Do not worry about that, Commander. When it is time to take the city, we will ensure Nakoma has other more interesting prizes to deal with."

  He pointed to the vehicles.

  "Now, tell me? How much longer do our soldiers need to prepare the vehicles and equipment? Your last report said six weeks to get enough ground vehicles operational to transport all of my forces. That is not good enough."

  Isi almost choked.

  "But the assault vehicles are still being modified. Over half of the transports are ready, but I need six more weeks at least to prepare enough armed vehicles for the journey."

  Tenskwatawa lifted a hand to silence him.

  "I am not interested in the armed vehicles. I must be at the city on the chosen day, and how we do this does not concern me."

  Commander Isi simply continued shaking his head.

  "If we use just the crawlers, I can have everything ready in four weeks. But we will be vulnerable in the battle, and with almost no long-range weapon support or assault vehicles."

  He took a slow breath before adding one last detail he knew would infuriate Tenskwatawa.

  "Major Spartan said that we would need multiple war machines to breach the defences safely. I cannot just..."

  Tenskwatawa laughed.

  "Spartan this, and Spartan that. Just tell me, can we be ready to leave in three weeks? That will give us a little over four weeks to reach the capital in time for..."

  His voice petered out, as though he'd either lost interest, or didn't want to say anything more about his plans. The officer paused for what must have been too long because Tenskwatawa glared at him. It was a pointless question, any answer other than yes would probably see him cast over the wall.

  "Yes, my Lord. The Army of the North will be ready to leave in three weeks. Of that you have my word."

  Tenskwatawa smiled.

  "Excellent work. I suggest you get to it. Time is working against you."

  "Yes, my Lord."

  Commander Isi moved along the top of the wall and used one of the many ramps to work his way back to the surface. Meanwhile, Tenskwatawa looked to the South and gazed at the horizon.

  "Every day Spartan and his friends spend fighting Nakoma and her allies in the South will make them weaker."

  A narrow, cruel smile formed on his face.

  "And when both are exhausted, I will walk over the bodies and end this war once and for all."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hyndla Deep Core Mine, Southern Depression

  With the first wave fleeing in terror, the fight changed in character. Gone were the stray technicians, gunship crews, and deck officers. Most were dead or had rushed for the ramps or tunnels leading off into the blackness. In their place came the regular foot soldiers of the clan, and they moved quietly and efficiently into position as the others continued to run. Two clan officers shot down their own people, instantly stemming the panicking tide.

  "Defend the landing ground, or die here. Your choice," snapped one.

  Two more crew ignored the officers warning and were shot down where they stood.

  "Fight for what is ours! Will you give up your booty, your lands, and your wealth?"

  A light, barely audible cry rose from those moving into position.

  "Will you let them take what you paid for in blood?"

  This time their voices rose in anger. More robed and heavily equipped Blood Pack warriors split into smaller teams to bolster the defence, just as they'd drilled so many times before. These were not the wild raiding parties, but blooded warriors with a long history. They bolstered the line in a dozen places, while the less experienced recruits spread out around them. Though panicked, their greater numbers quickly provided staying power to the fragile warriors.

  "Bring up the heavy weapons. They must be stopped!"

  Two more large units of heavily armed clan warriors rushed in, as well as eight dragging a wheeled platform bearing a heavy weapon system. The officer directed the crew as they manhandled it into position behind the shelter offered by a tall pillar that reached up high, vanishing into the blackness above them. More soldiers dragged boxes, crates, and storage bins and threw them down, creating a hasty barricade at the one end of the cavernous interior. These new soldiers wore dull iron coloured armour that protected the torso and shoulders, while thick scales hung down over the thighs and upper legs. Every warrior bore the marks of their clan, and individualised iconography and modifications, making each unique. Some wore helmets, and others left their heads uncovered. All of them shared hard-edged and nightmarishly cruel looking faces, partially obscured by their red-tinted goggles. As they shifted, some exposed their armour plates bodies, each protected in a different fashion.

  Every one of them was a hardened killer and bore the scars to prove their many past kills. These were not cowards or simple killers, they were the clan's professional warrior caste, and with every volley fired their confidence grew. They knew the ground and used every piece of cover to their advantage, while the enemy lay outnumbered and exposed inside the vastness of the landing hangar.

  Off at the other side of the vast open ground was Lahok. He dropped down and huddled behind a fallen Jötnar. Just as he hit the ground, another long burst of gunfire slammed into the tight formation, and several bullets struck near his head. Each of the massive alien warriors took multiple hits, yet even those mortally wounded in the battle refused to back down. Hundreds of rounds crashed around them, but paled when compared to the great roar from the Blood Pack. He looked up and watched in stunned silence as rounds glanced off armour, struck walls, or punched into flesh. It was like a terrifying horror film, and he expected them to be killed or captured at any moment. He tried to get up, but something held him down.

  "No, stay here!"

  He looked back at the fully armoured figure of Kanjana. Though slight in build, her strength was easily the equal of his, perhaps more so. He tried to pull away again, but nothing could pry him from her hands.

  "Stay...and wait. This will be over soon."

  Lahok shook his head and looked up at the Jötnar. Never had he seen such a group of soldiers. They were massively outnumbered and sustaining so much firepower that most must surely be dead. Yet they refused to back down, and might even be enjoying it. Khan, the unit’s second-in-command looked back to check on him, nodded, and then gave him a thumbs-up with his left hand.

  "Good. Stay there. We've got them on the ropes."

  Khan rotated back arou
nd at the waist and fired off another entire box magazine in one go. The Thumper rifle hissed from the heat created in the gunfight, but even when this hot, it continued to function. He slipped in another while howling with rage. His skill at gunnery was matched by his calm routine of loading and firing.

  "Break them!" Spartan screamed.

  The smaller figure of Spartan lifted his carbine high in the air and out to the formation of Jötnar. They all joined in, adding their voices to the sound of the gun battle. Spartan's voice was easily heard via the internal communications systems fitted to all the armour, but also amplified via the external speakers that sent his low-pitched voice into the dusty interior.

  "End this...now!"

  Spartan brought his carbine back to his shoulder and opened fire. So many Red Scars fell it looked more like a firing squad than an actual gun battle. Through the gaps in their legs, Lahok could see one after the other falling down, or blown apart by the terrible explosive shells fired by the Thumpers. Then it stopped, just as quickly as it had begun. Only sporadic gunfire returned as the few surviving Red Scars withdrew into the shadows. Spartan stepped out in front of the Jötnar, turning his back on the enemy to look at his warriors.

  "The cowards run, just as we said they would."

  He turned back to face the enemy, and as one, the Blood Pack reloaded their weapons and then shouldered their firearms, in sheer contempt of the enemy. Spartan watched carefully, looking for signs of trouble.

  "Spartan," crackled his comms system.

  "Syala?"

  "Yeah. We've broken the surface, but many of them got away and are coming your way."

  Her breathing was heavy, and Spartan could tell she was moving fast.

  "How many?"

  Syala laughed at the question.

  "A lot. We were in the middle of a fight and then they just melted. I think somebody sent them a signal to withdraw."

  Spartan's eyes narrowed as he examined the distant shadows. Shapes continued to move ahead of them, and his gut instinct told him that something was about to happen.

  "I sent Kornag and twenty Jötnar to assist you."