War of the Exiles

by Michael G. Thomas

  Location was one of the reasons for the city’s power and control over the planet. The protection of the mountains, and the unusually large basin inside which the city was built, made it perfect for landing ships. The first mines were also dug here before the emphasis shifted to the richer sources of ore in the Southern Depression, ore known as providing the best metal alloys known to exist. Lightweight and incredibly tough, it could provide the basis of personal and ship based armour that knew no equal.

  Any normal city would be torn apart by the fighting and abrasion from parts of the storms that made it past the mountains, but not Montu. The thick stone and carefully placed structures made it almost impervious to the dust able to pick a body clean in a matter of hours. The Byotai had invested much hard labour on the site, and this was no frivolous venture. Any soul unfortunate to be caught out could expect to be injured, perhaps even killed. Karnak was the worst of the six worlds in the Quadrant to live on, but it was also the richest, with mineral wealth beyond any other known planet. It was an unforgiving place, and not even the advanced technology of the Byotai could change that.

  As Wictred sat there, he looked to his comrades. There were thirty of them inside this crawler, yet he and his ten Blood Pack took up most of the space. Apart from being twice the size of a Byotai, they were also covered from head to toe in dull, iron coloured armour. He thought back to the events on the alien ship as the storm petered out over the convoy. Kras rose to his feet and lifted his head up to sniff the air from his position in the lead section of the improvised land train. Translators fitted to the helmets of all present, converted the words after a short, but irritating delay.

  "General Makos has just contacted homeworld with news that has hit the enemy like a shockwave, and the news is spreading fast."

  Wictred looked to the others inside the vehicle and focussed on Skarn who looked confused.

  "General Makos? I thought he was trying to stop the clans from reinforcing their positions here, and on the other worlds. What's happened?"

  Wictred shrugged and then looked back to hear the words of Kras.

  "General Makos had his chance, and just like I knew he would, he has found the enemy and brought them to battle."

  Skarn exhaled slowly and was quite clearly impressed by what he was hearing.

  "Makos crushed the Anicinàbe animals in space, in a battle that will be remembered for generations to come as the Liberation of Medamud."

  Wictred knew first hand that Kras was far from a fan of General Makos, the military hero saved Karnak from total defeat. Kras never forgot to remind his own people it was through their blood and toil that the ground battles were won.

  He's changed...why? What's in it for Kras?

  "Outnumbered and outgunned, General Makos took the best the Anicinàbe had and forced them into battle that quickly became a bloodbath. The Anicinàbe are running like the whipped animals we know them to be, and the General is chasing them from the Quadrant."

  His personal guard of aged Byotai lifted their weapons and called out in support. It was noisy and filled with bravado. They were all veterans of the bitter skirmishes of the last months, but none of them were regular soldiers. They bore armour modified and remanufactured from equipment taken from killed Anicinàbe, as well as homemade gear based on the mining equipment of the Byotai. Only a few actually wore tailor-made equipment shipped from home.

  Kras groaned a little as his aching muscles moved his heavy torso upright. He was General Kras, the Elder of Caldos. The renegade commander Makos had given him orders to dig in. But after all this time he'd had enough, and news of the victory at Medamud spurred him on. He looked back at his bodyguard of Byotai, and then out to the long line of vehicles. The crews were already brushing away the dust and preparing to move out. He lifted himself up high so they could see him and called out over the external speakers.

  "The war for the Tenth Quadrant has been transformed after one battle."

  He reached out to the remnants of the dust clouds.

  "This storm marks the turn of the tide for our people. Today everything has changed, and now it is time, my brothers and sisters, time to turn back and breach the defences of Montu once and for all. We must take back the city."

  He opened his mouth, letting in the dry air into his lungs.

  "News will already be spreading through the Anicinàbe camps, and they will be scared. Some will flee, and those that remain will attempt to dig in, based on the vain hope that help will one day come. We must move now, before they consolidate their position in the occupation of our land."

  He lifted up his hand high above his head until the plates on his shoulders prevented them from moving any higher.

  "General Makos cannot do this. He and his forces are busy cleansing the stars of their ships. No, it is our turn to show that we can do the same here. This is our time, and though we might be outnumbered, we have courage, skill, and right on our side. The Anicinàbe will have already heard about their defeat, and nothing breeds fear like the smell of defeat. We must take advantage of their weakness. I promise you, the Anicinàbe will not stand. One hard push and the whole thing will collapse."

  Shouting roared out from the vehicles as Byotai and mercenary alike called out their support. The sound continued at a reduced volume as the convoy began moving again, making its slow, inexorable progress towards the capital city.

  "We will hit them hard, and Montu will fall. I promise you, Montu will be ours once more!"

  Wictred listened to the words of Kras before looking to his comrades.

  "Is he insane? The defenders at the Stone Teeth need our help. The Anicinàbe rule Montu, and they've made it a fortress. You saw the drone footage; the place is a lost cause until we can mobilise some serious numbers. Kras lost the Khagi Mountains and Montu months ago. He just doesn't know it yet. He had a chance, right then when they were weak, and he refused. Now it's too late."

  "I agree," said one of the shorter Jötnar, "We will need ten times this number to have any chance, and if we fail, it will be more than just the loss of Montu. They will use that victory to run amok on this planet, and the Byotai will be unable to stop them."

  Wictred nodded in firm agreement.

  "Our friends in the North have held off repeated attacks by the Red Scars, but now the enemy has been heavily reinforced. When the Zuni and Kolchan clans attack, they will overwhelm the Byotai with the combined wrath of three clans at their walls. Karnak will be all but lost, all for the glory of one Byotai. They are tough, and they fight well, but they are not warriors. Less than one in a hundred at the Teeth has any military training."

  He upper lip quivered.

  "If Kras attacks, he'll get every one of his people killed. It will be a slaughter. Karnak will go, then the Quadrant, and what then? You've seen the Anicinàbe. They look for weakness and strike when the time is right."

  He pulled himself up taller so he could look back at the armoured vehicles.

  "If the Anicinàbe sense any sign of weakness or lack of resolve, they will burst out from this domain and into our own. The Byotai Empire could be next, and then any colony or empire that will not stand up to them. They have greater numbers than the rest of our neighbours combined."

  Skarn shrugged.

  "You place a heavy burden on our shoulders, my brother. We are one unit, nothing more."

  "True," agreed Wictred, "But we can change one part of a battle, and if it is the right part, it can be enough to win a war, even with what little we have."

  Skarn still didn't looked particular impressed, and one of his more experienced kin said what the others were all thinking.

  "It would be good to have Gun and the others at our backs. The Alliance should stop talking and start doing. The Byotai are our allies, and they need help, real military help."

  Skarn snorted.

  "Yeah, they'll help when they know this is a done deal and a guaranteed win. They don't want a war with the Anicinàbe, and joining the Byotai to fight them would
send a signal to the clans."

  He smiled as he looked to Wictred.

  "So...until that day comes, we'll have to work even harder, won't we? Kras won't change his mind just because we say so. You know what he's like. He will hit Montu, even if we're outnumbered and outgunned. He won't want Makos getting all the glory."

  He lifted a flat looking hacking blade, its edge pitted and serrated. The weapon was designed just as much to intimidate, as it was to cause damage. The Anicinàbe were well equipped for the hit and run warfare they seemed to excel at; the Jötnar made close to medium range assaults their speciality. If just one of them could get close enough to use weapons like these, then the battle would already be over.

  "In any case, it's not like we've got anything else to do out here, is it? We were paid to come here with guns, blades, and armour. We can do our job just fine, with five of us or a hundred."

  With that, he swung down the blade and embedded its keen edge into the crude metal flooring of the crawler. Wictred shook his head and sighed.

  Maybe. But getting you all killed is not my idea of a smart mission. I won't throw you away like cattle.

  He rose from the rear of the vehicle to find the occupants of every single one of the other machines doing the same. All of them, male, female, old or young alike wanted nothing less than to attack Montu, even in their weakened state. Wictred turned to his left and found Skarn at his side.

  "Wictred, you're not going to persuade them. Just look at them. They will attack Montu even if they know they will lose. They do not care what happens to them."

  Wictred rubbed at his armoured helm.

  "Perhaps they don't, but I do. My life and all of yours is worth much more than a Byotai Elder's honour."

  One of the other Jötnar lifted himself up tall. He carried a custom made triple-barrel weapon that had all the hallmarks of a Hyperion made weapon. It was short and the barrels surprisingly wide.

  "So, what's the plan? We will fight with you wherever you send us. How can we turn this into a victory when Kras and the others will not listen?"

  Wictred looked ahead and towards the mountains, the very location they had been trying to avoid.

  "My brother, if they will not listen, then we will have to make sure we don't fail. Have you ever found an enemy position that a unit of battle-ready Jötnar could not breach?"

  He once again looked out to the mountains.

  "The Anicinàbe will find out we're here soon enough. We will be engaged in battle without ever seeing the walls of the city."

  He wanted nothing more than to see his kin storming the walls but deep down knew that would never happen. Even as he watched the long line of vehicles, he had the feeling something terrible was going to happen. He placed his hand on the side of the crawler and lifted himself to the side. Skarn grabbed for him.

  "Hey, where are you going?"

  Wictred looked back, his face taught and grim.

  "I'm going to have a word with our illustrious leader. Either he listens, or we're out of here."

  With those words, he was gone, and Skarn looked back to see the other Jötnar looking equally stunned. Never before had he heard one of his kin suggesting they might shy from battle, yet for all his desire for combat, not even Skarn could see the benefits of death in this place.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The man who returned to Karnak in 373CC was a changed man in every way. Though a decade has passed since the Biomech War, he was more experienced and reliable than ever. Every single mission handed to him was completed successfully, even if the cost was sometimes higher than any had expected. The operation in T'Karan had proven that, and the reputation of both Spartan and the IAB boosted immeasurably by their survival and defeat of the ancient Trusskan Guardian. Spartan was now faster, stronger, and more capable than he'd been at half his age. With his family gone, all that remained were his Jötnar and Biomech comrades, and the few military personnel to have survived the war. He had few friends outside of this group, and many still blamed him for the mass casualties at the Battle of the Rift. One thing was certain; Spartan would undertake missions others would shy from, and he would succeed. This led some to speculate his current success can be partially attributed to the fatalistic attitude so prevalent among the synthetic Jötnar, an attitude Spartan may have inherited.

  The Rise of Spartan

  100 Kms North of Montu, Khagi District, Karnak

  The dust cloud broke against the mountains and left clear open sky for more than thirty kilometres in every direction. The peaks of the mountains were still shrouded, but down here it was easy to see the scattered column of vehicles. The land train was at the centre, and crawlers scattered about in front and behind. Out at the front of the column was a slow moving crawler, and atop it was Wictred. His vehicle was just a hundred metres from the remains of the scout crawler now on its side with black smoke bellowing from its burnt out carcass.

  "This is a disaster," grumbled Skarn, "We should have scouts far out, not pulled back to surround the old fool."

  Wictred turned back from his position at the edge of the vehicle and looked at the rest of the armoured column. Kras had sent them forward after a violent argument with Wictred. It was not because he had any degree of respect for their ability to scout, he simply wanted them out of his way.

  "I know. It's exactly as I told Kras it would happen. An assault in these mountains is doomed to fail without proper recon and air cover."

  He considered their options but only for a brief moment. There were dust and smoke trails in different parts of the sky, but nothing obvious that would betray the shape of enemy vehicles or ground troops. He smelt the air, and then spun about as though he could detect the scent of the enemy.

  "Hornets."

  He grabbed the communicator fitted on the vehicle.

  "Kras, this is Wictred. They are coming. I repeat; they are coming. Form the laager now, and prepare to repel an assault!"

  The engine howled as the crawler turned to the right and began the slow backwards trip to the column. They could have turned around and covered more ground, but Wictred continued shouting orders and ensuring they kept their front towards the gentle upwards slope.

  "Ready!" Skarn barked.

  The Jötnar moved to the front of the open-topped vehicle and placed their weapons on the edge. They wore their plain metal armour like a well-worn suit, and in their hands carried customised weapons unique to the Blood Pack. Wictred moved to the middle of the unit and placed his own double-barrelled rifle, one of the weapons growing in popularity amongst the Pack. This was based on the previous standard-issue weapon of the Marine Corps, but included the innards of two complete weapons fitted inside a skeleton carbine stock and fed by a single box magazine, containing fifty rounds of 12.7mm tip hardened explosive slugs. The guns were short-ranged, very powerful, and far from subtle. Wictred had nicknamed them Thumpers, a name that had stuck.

  "Keep your eyes open," said Wictred.

  He called down to the Byotai driver.

  "Get the sand blade in position and prepare for..."

  "Incoming!" Skarn yelled.

  At the top of the gradient in front of them came a dozen dark shapes. It was hard to identify them at this distance. They were moving fast and splitting up to make it harder to track them. More came behind them, boosting their numbers past twenty.

  "Wait," Wictred ordered.

  The Jötnar obeyed, not one of them firing until the order was given. As they waited, they took careful aim, and those with shorter-ranged weapons checked their equipment for the hundredth time. Then came the tell-tale muzzle flashes from their weapons, quickly marking them out as enemies. At the same time, another group appeared in the rocks to the right. Their rifles punched holes inside the plating of the crawler, and the volume of fire made a sound like rain on the metal plating.

  "Drop 'em!"

  The Jötnar split their fire between the two groups and shredded anything that came too close. The enemy ground forces had made
it nearly halfway to the convoy by the time the defensive fire began, and it made short work of them. A small group of Human soldiers began shouting excitedly to the left. Wictred moved from his position and looked in the direction of interest. There was a single hillock to the left and a large number of light vehicles streaming out from each side. They were little different to the scout vehicles used by the Byotai.

  "Keep firing," said Wictred.

  The mixture of Humans and Jötnar added their fire to that of the rest of the convoy. The land train put out a terrifying level of projectiles, though not as accurate as Wictred would have liked. The enemy vehicles kept their distance and circled the convoy, using the low hills and rocks to break up their formation as they moved about erratically.

  "That one," said Skarn.

  The Jötnar took aim and blasted at a three-wheeled vehicle, and four other Jötnar joined in. The double-barrelled firearms tore chunks off its armour before it flipped over, landing on its side.

  "I don't get it," said Olas.