Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War

by Michael G. Thomas

  * * *

  The Byotai train screamed along the single Maglev rail. The railcars had taken an incredible beating from both airstrikes, as well as multiple assaults by drop soldiers. Even though every section of the train had been damaged, it still thundered on; all its power supplied by the crippled, but still running engine. The rear of the locomotive streamed a long black column of smoke that continued to thicken. Spartan looked to Gun as they entered the final and longest tunnel of the journey so far.

  “Good, that means we’re clear from the sky for a while.”

  Gun threw down his third Helion rifle so far in the battle, muttering in disgust.

  “This is not how I like to fight.”

  Spartan began moving through the train to reach the forward section when Syala contacted him. He was so used to the scenes of battle and carnage that he barely even noticed the ruined interior of the railcar. There were bullet holes from rifles, as well as entire sections of metal reduced to molten slag. Spartan pointed at one particularly bad part.

  “One day they might learn the basics and not attack us one at a time.”

  Gun straightened his back and groaned.

  “Yeah, and one day I might get bored of fighting.”

  Spartan headed to the adjoining section and signalled for Gun to go with him. They clambered over the wreckage and reached the last railcar before the engine unit. General Daniels was waiting there, holding a pale lantern in his hands.

  “Are you both okay?”

  Spartan nodded.

  “Yeah, we’ll live.”

  The entire train shuddered, and there was a mighty crashing sound. They were all thrown to the ground. Spartan was shaken so much that he rolled to the side and half swung out.

  “Grab him!” Daniels yelled.

  Spartan clawed at what remained of the train, but each piece of metal came away like a chunk of rotten wood. Just one finger embedded in metal, but his lower half hung out in open air. Gun kicked down and wedged his leg, lurching forward to grab his friend. Spartan’s finger gave way just as his hand connected with the armour. He grabbed with all his strength, and with one big tug, Gun yanked him back onto the train.

  “Thanks,” he said with a cough.

  Gun leaned back, and part of a broken bulkhead groaned under the weight. Spartan lay on his back and opened his visor. He took in multiple deep breaths just as General Daniels bent down and looked into the helmet.

  “Thought we’d lost you for a minute back there.”

  Spartan tried to laugh, but instead coughed once more.

  “There’s a problem,” said Gun.

  Light had returned to the wrecked train, and as they sped onwards, they could now see a gentle warm hue growing in the distance from the rising sun. They were out in the open. Syala opened the door from the engine and leaned out. Her armour was badly singed, and it was marked from her shoulder and chest, down to her belly.

  “The capacitors have blown. We’re running on solar only.”

  Spartan pulled himself up into a seating position.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She looked to each of them, but her expression effectively answered the question for them.

  “We’re slowing down. Give it another three minutes, and we’ll be too slow for the engine to keep the train levitated.”

  “And then?” Gun asked.

  Syala laughed. At the same time, Gun pointed off to the right. Spartan and the General squinted and then spotted shapes.

  “Six of those Hornets, and they are coming this way,” said General Daniels.

  Spartan looked for his carbine and found it on the floor, near to Gun. He beckoned towards it; the old warrior lifted it and threw it over. Spartan caught it in one hand and checked the power cell status. He shook his head.

  “Not good, less than half.”

  He then looked at Syala.

  “Let me guess. Once we drop below that speed, we’ll be grinding metal.”

  She nodded.

  “And when that happens, this train will be dead, and forty kilometres away from our rendezvous with my sister.”

  On cue, a great whine began from the front of the train. Syala went back inside and reappeared moments later. This time she carried her weapon and kept moving.

  “What’s happening?” Spartan asked.

  Syala moved past him and continued on into the train. She threw a glance back at them.

  “No idea. The computer is dead, and something is getting hotter and hotter up there.”

  She didn’t bother to wait and see what they did, and headed towards the rear of the train. Gun and Spartan looked at each other. General Daniels picked up a Helion rifle and joined Syala.

  “Let’s go,” said Spartan.

  All four of them clambered over the floor that was now littered with wreckage. At the same time, the howl from the engine continued to grow. Spartan paused for a second to look out from the side of the train. Sparks were already flashing along the lower sections, and flames had broken out at the front.

  “Run!”

  They reached the second railcar when the engine finally reached critical. The entire nose section ripped off in a bright flash, and debris blasted off in all directions. At exactly the same time, the train dropped down onto the single track with an almighty crash. Screaming metal was joined by a long series of flashes, and fires broke out along the entire train. Then the middle railcars ripped off the track as their electromagnets failed. The train completely broke apart, sending metal, fuel, and flames in all directions.

  * * *

  ANS X-45 ‘Titan’, on approach to Karnak

  The planet continued to increase in size as the ship moved in on its course. Unlike any other vessel Colonel Black had been aboard; this one was the most confusing. Ships normally found themselves decelerating for the last half of a journey, or for long haul transports they would be forced to follow a curved course around moons or planets. Five-Seven brought up the forward view, along with detailed information on all ships in the area.

  “We have been detected by the Anicinàbe blockade.”

  The Colonel rubbed his chin, but his expression remained stoic. The screen in front showed the extent of the blockade, and it was much more substantial that even he had expected. There were scores of modified civilian ships, with almost as many corsair and sleek-looking Anicinàbe military warships.

  “Stay on course. We are going to have to be quick.”

  He tapped the communications button.

  “Kanjana, is the dropship ready?”

  “Affirmative,” came back a snappy reply.

  “Good. This is going to be a drop under fire. We’ll prepare a defensive package for you.”

  A light rumble spread through the ship that was immediately followed by the engines deactivating. One moment it was travelling at the speed of light, and the next they were in orbit and operating under conventional engines. There was no physical stimuli as they changed velocity other than the visual, something that was confusing to the minds of all there, except for Five-Seven.

  “Six warships on an intercept course. More are changing their approach vectors,” said Five-Seven, “It appears the blockade has increased in size and firepower since we left.”

  “Yeah,” said the Colonel, “Something tells me they don’t want anybody snooping about.”

  The view from the mainscreen shifted to show the heavily modified forms of six vessels. Behind them were dozens more, all waiting in orbit. There were also several large, sleek ships that Colonel Black had not seen before.

  “What are those things?”

  Five-Seven was as efficient as ever and checked the onboard computer. A number of schematics appeared on the mainscreen and positioned themselves alongside the live imagery of the enemy.

  “They appear to match Alliance records for Anicinàbe escort carriers, one of the primary front line vessels in the Anicinàbe inventory. They are cruiser class vessels and have the ability to operate dropshi
ps and fighters. Sensors detect thirty plus fighters on approach.”

  Even as they watched, a number of smaller shapes emerged from the large ships. They moved out from their launch tubes and then waited, like a row of sharp teeth. The targeting computer quickly tagged them. Five-Seven selected them and looked to the Colonel.

  “Atomic torpedoes, they are active and waiting in readiness inside their open torpedo tubes. Those weapons will cripple us if used.”

  Colonel Black nodded.

  “Understood. Nice to see that conventional weaponry has gone out of the window. Let’s make sure they don’t hit us. Any use of atomics will escalate this situation. I can’t imagine for a moment that Tahkeome or any of his lieutenants would be foolish enough to do that. What is the status of the engine?”

  It took only a few seconds for Five-Seven to confirm the power units and drive were ready. He looked back with a muted expression, barely registering any form of emotion.

  “Two minutes until we can use them. It takes time to build up the energy to create the space-time distortion.”

  “Very well. Get us into position.”

  He contacted Kanjana once more.

  “We’ve got company. We’re going to have to slingshot you in. Are you ready for that?”

  “No problem, Colonel. Just tell us when you’re ready.”

  ANS X-45 Titan continued on to the final part of its journey; the group of ships and fighters rushed in to stop them. They were close enough that some had already opened fire with automatic cannons, but even with their advanced targeting arrays, they were too far away to land more than five direct hits, all of which were easily absorbed by the armour. Then the larger vessels unleashed a veritable arsenal of gunfire at their flank. At the same time, the fighters activated their boost engines and closed to within fifty kilometres. In space, this was effectively point-blank range.

  “That’s enough. We’ve received no warning, and they fired first. Activate our defences,” Colonel Black ordered.

  All it took was a single command, and the entire ship’s array of active defences activated. They had been scanning targets since their arrival, but none of the turrets could fire without gunnery clearance. As soon as the projectiles and missiles entered a ten-kilometre perimeter, they opened fire from every corner of the ship. The rapid fire of the particle defence turrets tore them apart in seconds, even managing to destroy some of the incoming flechette rounds before they could hit the ship.

  “Defences active; ninety-eight percent success rate,” said Five-Seven.

  “Good work,” said Colonel Black.

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise at the number, something much higher than he expected, especially against such an overwhelming number of attacks. On the mainscreen the first fighter squadron had passed overhead and launched missiles; all annihilated by the defence turrets. One of the escort carriers was now within a range of six hundred kilometres, and its entire nose section vanished in a barrage of yellow flashes.

  “Unguided rockets on an intercept course,” said Five-Seven.

  He didn’t need to look to the Colonel for orders as the ship began a series of pre-programmed routines. First it began a series of rolls so that the gun turrets would get maximum coverage in their high-power mode. This new feature gave the turrets substantially greater hitting power, but it also reduced the firing rate to a tenth of its normal level. By the time a turret was half charged, the ship would already have rotated so that the next could fire.

  “Impressive,” said Colonel Black, “Very damned impressive.”

  A dozen of the small turrets continued firing normally, keeping the shoal of fighters busy. The incoming rockets were large, bigger than a fighter borne missile, and much more powerful. Primitive by all accounts, they had the benefit of being impossible to jam, and it fell to the turrets, which managed to down all but four by the time they reached the one-kilometre barrier.

  “Brace!” said the ship’s computer.

  The crew normally issued the command, but the computer was much quicker and could anticipate direct threat. The final layer of defence was a blast by two powerful flechette launchers. They sent hundreds of tiny chunks of metal into the path of the rockets. Only two rockets struck the ship’s hull, penetrating almost three metres before exploding.

  “Damage report!”

  Five-Seven examined the information coming in from his sub-commanders.

  “Armour breached but contained. No significant damage. The nearest escort carrier is activating its forward batteries again.”

  After breathing a sigh of relief from surviving the initial strike, Colonel Black pointed to the fighters swarming around the ship.

  “They had their chance. Now it’s ours. I am authorising level one rules of engagement.”

  He looked to the Thegn, assuming he would be familiar with the basics of military protocol.

  “Understood,” said Five-Seven, “If we are attacked, then target and destroy the source.”

  Colonel Black gave him a curt nod.

  “Weapons free.”

  He repeated the orders much like a computer would.

  “Exactly. And as for that thing...activate the main guns.”

  The ship surrounded itself with a storm of gunfire as it hurled closer to the drop-off point. Flashes of light marked where a fighter or missile exploded, and still it continued on its course into low orbit over Karnak. The forward quad-particle cannons opened up and hammered the carrier with blast after blast of energy. The first impact ripped massive chunks of armour away, making subsequent strikes deadly. After the three-second bombardment was over, nearly a quarter of the escort carrier was ablaze.

  * * *

  Jackal Dropship ‘Haywire’

  Khan and Olik waited patiently as the clamps held them firmly in place. A third set of JAS armour waited alongside them, but this one was empty. Even without Gun inside it, the armour was an awe-inspiring sight. Deep scars marked where he’d sustained damage in hand-to-hand combat, and the other plating had been repaired dozens of times over. Standing alongside them were six of the robotic CD-1 Grunts, each silent and still inside its launch tube. There were fourteen more tubes behind them, all of which were empty, and another ten in front, six of which were occupied by the remaining mercenaries. In the Grunts’ arms were their firearms in exactly the same position at the shoulder.

  “Creepy, aren’t they?” Olik asked.

  Khan laughed.

  “At least they’re on our side. I’m more concerned with them.”

  He nodded off to the forward section where the mercenaries were strapped in: the netting devices over their heads, and their eyes and ears covered. They were suspended from the ground, and to the untrained eye might have been little more than dead bodies.

  “What happens if they launch the wrong tubes?”

  Khan shook his head and pointed to the base of the cylinders.

  “Only the ones with Grunts have release mounts at the base. The first ten are locked down. They can’t be opened.”

  The dropship shook violently, and for a moment Khan thought they’d been hit. He checked the small video window on his visor but could see they were still clamped into position inside the warship.

  “What the hell was that?” Olik asked.

  Kanjana activated the triple-layered plate connecting the cockpit with the rest of the transport area. It opened up like an iris, and though small, it was enough for her to look back at her passengers.

  “Get ready. We’re in the middle of one hell of a firefight.”

  Khan and Olik both nodded smartly. The six mercenaries remained motionless in their protective cocoons. Khan muttered, and Olik strained to listen to him.

  “What?”

  Khan grumbled again.

  “I said it’s time we were in the middle of a fire fight.”

  Olik leaned back.

  “I agree with you there, brother.”

  * * *

  ANS X-45 ‘Titan’, Low Orbit, Karnak
<
br />   Autocannons hammered away at the underside of ANS X-45 Titan as she skimmed the atmosphere of Karnak. The nacelle ring at the rear of the ship left a bizarre trail behind them as dust heated up and sprinkled behind like a fiery comet. Behind her came a squadron of sleek and agile fighters, the kind of aircraft only a people like the Anicinàbe could ever have created. Unlike any other known race, their entire philosophy was on speed and mobility. The natural ability of their crews to understand three-dimensional space could only be matched by the most sophisticated computer simulations. They fired at a range of just a few hundred metres, jinking about to avoid the return fire from the turrets.

  “Breaches on the engine nacelles. Another hit like that, and we will be unable to get away,” said Five-Seven.

  Any other officer might have shown worry or nerves, but not this Thegn soldier. He repeated the information as if simply reading it from a screen at a company board meeting. Autocannons battered the underside, and still he seemed unconcerned.

  “Keep her together,” said Colonel Black.

  Even as he said it, he felt a shudder down his spine. On the mainscreen the image of an entire section of hull showed clearly what was happening. Gunfire had ripped three layers of plating away, as well as three compartments, which thankfully were empty. The fighters were spinning about on their axis to put more and more fire into the damaged sections.

  “More have arrived.”

  Colonel Black moved his eyes from the damaged sections and gazed upon the form of their tormentors. Behind them came more and more of the heavier warships, as well as another four military escort carriers. In front were two more ships. They had positioned themselves in such a way that Titan would have to travel directly past them.

  “What the hell are those things?”

  They looked at the mainscreen as the imagery of the two vessels enlarged. Both were a mess, more a floating mass of scrap and flotsam. The scale showed them to be about the size of an Alliance heavy transport, making them nearly double the size of a standard heavy cruiser. Engines were positions in a variety of unexpected locations. Dozens of gun ports and missile systems activated and fired towards them.