Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War

by Michael G. Thomas

  That's got to be the maglev rail network.

  Her view was obscured as one of the militiamen started to leave. As with the others, he was slight, and his form heavily disguised by the loose clothing that gave his people the impression of nomadic spacefarers.

  “We’re coming in,” said Spartan.

  She lifted her weapon and took aim at the militiamen. Her sight was trained in the back of the nearest, but still she waited.

  “Take the route to the right. I’ve marked it on the lower wall. Meet me at the control room. I have a back route to the platform.”

  Then there was a massive blast, and the ground shook violently. The figure at the doorway dropped something, pulled out a carbine, and looked straight at her.

  Oh, great!

  The gun rose, and Syala knew she had to act or die. Her double-barrelled carbine was a civilian version of the venerable, military-grade L52. It fired one barrel after the other, each gunshot sounding like a thunderclap. Three rounds struck the militiaman, but the second pulled himself inside the control room.

  Move it!

  Syala sent the command, and her armour increased her adrenalin count just as she charged at the door. The figure behind pulled down a lock, but that wouldn’t stop her. Two blasts to the corner easily ripped off the hinges, and one meaty kick sent the heavy metal door crashing down on the unfortunate soul. She was now inside and surrounded by screens and lights, plus one last soldier. This time Syala made sure her translator circuit was on and active.

  “Drop it!”

  She could hear the sound of her translated voice just as she finished the last syllable. This final soldier laughed, a long, cruel laugh that made her hair stand on end. It was a female. Syala knew that already. She wanted to fire, but there was no chance, not with the proximity grenade beeping away in her hand. It was not unlike the ones Syala often carried. She glanced around the empty control room and spotted more bodies inside.

  The animals, they butchered them and just left them here to rot.

  Syala assessed the warrior in front in seconds. Though presumably a fast, perhaps even formable fighter, she was unlikely to be the person behind the running of the control centre. As they waited in stalemate, the warrior pulled a long, slightly curved knife from a sheath on her flank. With the left hand, the head covering came off to show the narrow face of a savage-looking female warrior. Tattoos covered her cheeks, and only the customary red tinted goggles hid her eyes.

  Where are they?

  Syala circled the warrior, her finger resting on the trigger guard. She wanted to fire, but there would be little chance of killing her and eliminating the proximity grenade. Instead she kept her eyes on the target and waited for the moment to attack. With each step, she found herself no closer to that moment but then saw something just behind and to the right. Her eyes squinted, and then the shape of another appeared with a computer unit under its arm.

  “Get down!”

  She knew the voice immediately, and upon recognising the sound dropped to her knee. Heat set off sensors, and both enemies were vaporised by multiple blasts of green energy. By the time she rose to her feet, there was nothing left of them but charred limbs. Syala spun about and before her were three figures. At the back a half-naked giant, a Jötnar warrior, and a human male wearing captured Anicinàbe militia clothing and carrying a pistol. Lastly, there was Spartan. The armoured figure stood in front of the group like a sentinel, and in his hands the smoking barrel of his high-energy carbine.

  “I’m back.”

  * * *

  Spartan stood in front of the massive diagram of the rail network. Blood covered the wall, and one of the computer systems burned away in the corner as a small fire flickered in the rear of a control box. He opened his visor and breathed in the cool, dust-filled air. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but at least he could feel the real world rather than the simulation presented inside the helmet. The interior of the M-3B armour was warm and reasonably comfortable, but there was always something special about seeing the real world, especially for a man like Spartan. Syala grasped his forearm and tugged at him.

  “You followed my instructions and kept to the right, I see. Good.”

  Spartan smiled.

  “Yeah. We got your message just in time. Another ten seconds, and it would have been us getting hit by those broken gas pipes.”

  Gun chuckled.

  “Nice improvisation. You got at least two with that little move.”

  General Daniels pushed past and looked at the information on the displays. He seemed to have a much better grasp of what was going on, or certainly gave that impression. He ran his hands over the data, nodding as though the information matched up with something he’d already had explained to him. Spartan looked from the General and back to Syala.

  “We followed the route in you gave us and bypassed the main foyer.”

  He pointed at the display.

  “Tell me the plan. I see you’ve made some changes.”

  Syala moved her hand up to the imagery and both men watched carefully. Gun, meanwhile, looked out through the doorway with his weapon raised. He was expecting trouble and taking no chances.

  “We need to wait three more minutes.”

  “Why?” Gun grumbled.

  Syala shook her head.

  “Because that’s how long it will take my modifications to clear our tunnel. We will take the express maglev train towards Caldos. I’ve taken care of the controls and entry points to this complex. Once we’re out of the mountain district, we will move to a separate independent power line connected to Caldos. There’s a railroad switch point right there that we can use.”

  Spartan looked at the location, but it meant nothing to him. General Daniels, however, seemed almost excited at the prospect.

  “That is a good choice, actually. The tunnel system en route to Caldos splits into multiple lines. There’s a control station there and a solar power planet to run the track system. Assuming we can actually get out of here, under their power.”

  He looked to the right where an image of a globe showed the time. He didn’t seem particularly confident until he found two more charging points. A few quick calculations told him everything else he needed to know.

  “We will hit the switch point about an hour before dawn.”

  Gun looked back and tilted his head. He appeared confused.

  “Dawn? It’s only just got dark here.”

  Daniels grinned.

  “You forget; this world operates on a sixteen-hour rotation. The days and nights are a lot shorter than we’re used to.”

  The General looked at Syala.

  “Miss, I haven’t met you before, but I have to admit, this is a good plan. Assuming the track system at the switch is live. If it isn’t, we won’t be able to get moving.”

  He turned his attention to Spartan.

  “These Byotai Maglev trains can only use their own power once they are at speed and already fully levitated. You need the station power coils to get you started and up to cruising speed.”

  He looked back to mapping data where coloured dots and lines indicated the current status of local and express lines.

  “We need to get out of the city before they cut the power. If they do, we’ll be able to move forward, but without levitation.”

  He smiled grimly.

  “And without levitation, we’ll be stuck on the line and unable to move.”

  Syala licked her lower mouth.

  “The Montu line is live; but the powerplant at the switch of offline. It looks like the Byotai control it. We’ll need to speak with them, or get out and take control of the place ourselves. Let’s just hope the Anicinàbe haven’t taken control of the place.”

  General Daniels laughed as though what she’d said was somehow offensive.

  “You bet it’s controlled by the Byotai.”

  He was almost proud as he spoke while turning to Gun.

  “That place is protected by the weapons we brought h
ere.”

  A high-pitched blast sent a plume of dust and debris into the tunnel they had arrived from. It cleared quickly, but left a low-lying layer of dust that hung around their feet. Spartan smirked and pointed back.

  “I take it you heard the sound of the two that tried to follow us?”

  Syala laughed, and Spartan moved his XC1 carbine in front of his chest. He examined the condition of the power cell, then released the first empty unit, and slid in a new power cell from the mount on his flank. It fitted in with a clunk and then a gentle hiss. The fresh coolant included in the pack made the fins on the flanks of the gun alter colour until the weapon stabilised. General Daniels looked down at the thing.

  “Is it supposed to do that?”

  Gun laughed.

  “It’s not a production model, not yet.”

  Syala appeared to be counting silently. Spartan watched her. She opened her eyes, looked directly into his, and then gave him a half wink with one eye.

  “Nice. The tunnel should be vented, are you ready to get out of this place?”

  Spartan checked the others were ready. He bent down and picked up one of the discarded long-rifles, tossing it to General Daniels. He caught it and checked the controls with expert hands. It may not have been an Alliance weapon, but he seemed more than familiar with it.

  “What about the rail controls?”

  Syala was already out of the door and checking there were no enemies about.

  “I’ve got it taken care of. Let’s go.”

  Spartan grabbed General Daniels’ arm.

  “Stay close to me, old man. It’s time to go. Follow me.”

  Syala led the way out of the control room and to the corridor. They were only halfway along it when she stopped, bent down, and hit a latch on the right-hand side. A panel fell down with a motorised groan, and another revealed a shaft wide enough even for Gun to enter. She went inside and activated her exterior lamp. Gun and the General were next, with Spartan at the rear. As they entered, Spartan could smell something even through the armour. It was acrid and made his skin itch.

  “What is this?”

  “Coolant vent shaft, we have four minutes to clear it before the next blast.”

  They moved away, and a few seconds later heard the motor sound of the panels returning to their previous position. They pushed back together with a resounding clunk.

  “This is the most direct route to the tunnel nearest the railcar. We can avoid the access shafts and their security system, or what they call a security system. They’ll have no idea we’re here.”

  “Good,” said Spartan, “My diversionary charges have all been used now. It won’t take long for them to realise we aren’t in the city. We need to be well gone by then.”

  They moved on through the cylindrical shaft in complete and utter darkness. Occasionally, the metallic structure would vibrate, the creation of the aftershocks of another of Syala’s traps. None of them spoke and made sure they covered the distance as quickly as possible. Spartan could feel a trickle of sweat at his brow as they passed the three-minute barrier with still no sign of the end. Another ten seconds past, and Syala stopped, turned to the left, and pressed a button on her arm. The panel opened out, and air rushed into the stale tunnel. Dull yellow light lit up the small segment of the coolant shaft.

  “Thirty seconds, you need to hurry,” she said.

  The others moved, and Syala resealed the hatch with barely fifteen seconds to go. By the time they were ten metres away, the blast of coolant could be heard flooding the compartment.

  “Nice work, lady,” said Gun.

  Spartan nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah. Maybe cutting it just a little short, though.”

  She walked passed, leading them on via the metal walkway.

  “Hardly, I did a trial run before you arrived.”

  They travelled through the labyrinth, with the heavy metal boots of Syala and Spartan crunching on the thick dust and light debris that littered the site.

  “How long since the Byotai lost control of this place?” Spartan asked.

  General Daniels coughed as he accidentally inhaled too much dust.

  “Damn it!”

  He coughed twice more before being able to speak properly.

  “They lost access to the place over a year ago. That was when sections started to fail. When the Spires Clan arrived, the last few tried to escape on the trains. Two of them were left behind.”

  Syala sighed.

  “I know. We’ve seen the bodies.”

  The passageway rose slightly, and then to all of their surprise, they emerged in the middle of pitch-black tunnel.

  “Uh, Syala. The plan was for the train.”

  The young woman shook her head and marched off to the left. General Daniels followed her, but Gun looked back at Spartan and laughed. His teeth glowed white in the bright light of Spartan’s shoulder-mounted lamps.

  “I think you’ve pissed her off, Spartan.”

  “What’s new?”

  They trudged on through the tunnel for almost a hundred metres before it split; one leading into a lighter lit section. There, sitting in the middle of the track, was the train. Spartan stopped and looked at the shape in surprise.

  “This is the same one we found at the platform. Isn’t it?”

  At first he sounded certain, but as his sentence tailed off, he seemed less certain.

  “Yeah, it’s one and the same. Come on.”

  Syala led them past the first control engine and to the wide automatic doors that were jammed shut. On her signal, Gun yanked them open, and they all rushed inside. On the floor of the first transport was a stack of weapons, mostly of Byotai origin, but also with a smattering of other alien technology. There was even a stack of armour sections. Gun lifted one of the dull grey chest plates and wrapped it around his upper arm. It just fitted.

  “Really?” Spartan asked.

  Gun grumbled in response. Spartan turned his attention to Syala.

  “Okay, get the engine running and take us to Caldos. We’ll set up defensive stations where we can.”

  General Daniels made to go with him.

  “I’ll help. In case you hadn’t noticed, there are multiple sections where the maglev tracks will be exposed to the surface. If they want to hit us, that’s where it will happen.”

  Syala had now vanished into the first car, the massive control unit for the train. She looked back from the rear door.

  “The internal generators can keep us going when we reach more than eighty kilometres per hour. I think that’s right, anyway. The Byotai controls are a little...well, a little odd.”

  Spartan opened his visor and smiled.

  “You’re doing fine. Get us out of here. We’ll work out the rest on the way.”

  She gave him a mock salute, let her eyes linger on his face for a second, and moved back into the engine. General Daniels went with her, leaving Spartan and Gun alone inside the second railcar. A low hum filled the interior, and then the car shuddered.

  “Levitation,” said Spartan.

  “Something like that,” agreed Gun, “Will it work?”

  They moved forward, but at the same time a dull scream echoed throughout the section. It was the pained sound of metal on metal, and for a moment it seemed something was going to hold them back from their escape. General Daniels opened the window from the engine and shouted over the din.

  “Hold on, there’s debris on the line!”

  The screaming sound increased in volume, and then cut just as quickly as it had started. Spartan looked down at the equipment and grabbed a pair of Helion battle rifles.

  “This way.”

  They ran along the corridor in the second carriage. It was open plan with red seating running down one side. Most of the seats were soiled with dirt and damp, and nearly half had been ripped or removed. Poles ran up at regular intervals with extra handrails in tarnished chrome. Every fifteen metres a large acrylic panel showed the route and current location. T
o their surprise, it actually worked and showed they were still inside Montu.

  “Something works. I’m impressed,” said Gun.

  Spartan looked less so.

  “Yeah, a map, great.”

  Spartan examined it but not for too long.

  “They will come for us, and when they do, we need to be ready.”

  “What do you propose?”

  Spartan gave him one of those grins that usually meant they were going into battle, or at the very least about to get themselves into some very serious trouble.

  “My friend. We are going to make sure this train is the last thing anybody is going to want a ride in.”

  * * *

  Syala did her best to get them away from the capital as she worked the alien controls on the rather simple engine unit. She’d never even ridden on one before, but that didn’t mean she was unfamiliar with the technology. The screens fitted alongside the narrow windows showed digits in the Byotai language, and a needle marked their current speed.

  “Well, will it work?”

  She pointed to one of the dials.

  “That says we’re doing about sixty kilometres per hour, and it’s increasing.”

  Her visor was open so he could see her face. She tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

  “The train is actually working quite well. I’m no expert, but all the status indicators are good, and we have enough onboard power to make most of the journey to Caldos.”

  “Most?”

  The General sounded both surprised and disappointed, but Syala simply laughed.

  “Yes, most. The onboard capacitors were on less than forty percent when we left. They charge via the secondary power lines in the capital. If we could have stayed behind for another hour, we’d have had enough.”

  The General peered out through the forward windows and off into the tunnel. There were no lights other than those fitted to the front of the engine, and although powerful, extended no more than two hundred metres out in front.

  “How will we make the last part of the trip without enough power?”