Star Crusades Mercenaries: Book 01 - Lords of War

by Michael G. Thomas

  Time to die.

  A thunderclap overhead forced them all to look up. A tiny black shape wreathed in flames flew across the sky like a comet, warning of something even more terrible to come. Then came the first volleys of gunfire. Spartan and Syala opened fire at exactly the same time. Their long-rifles were simple, yet surprisingly accurate. Both struck target after target, but even after five soldiers had been killed, they were no closer to beating off the attack. Three more Hornets came in low and behind the rocks to the right. Spartan took aim, but they were hidden from view. When they lifted back up, there was no sign of the soldiers inside.

  “We’ve got a flanking group on the right, twenty plus ground troops.”

  He moved carefully to the right and leaned around the boulder. Three rifle shots struck his position, one glancing off the side of his head, leaving a deep gouge in the metal plating. The impact was enough to knock him back several centimetres before he righted himself. Spartan looked for signs of the soldiers, but they were being smart and using the liberal amount of rocks and the undulating terrain on the flank to get closer. He suspected they were no more than fifty metres away. Two appeared, and the helmet overlay tagged them immediately.

  Big mistake.

  He’d already changed to the long-rifle. He fired three shots, but only one made contact before the second soldier dropped down to safety.

  “Spartan, we’re coming to you, are you ready?” came a familiar voice.

  “Kanjana, good, about damned time.”

  The soldiers appeared from cover, but this time moving from each side and as a wave. Two were knocked down by sniper fire back in the train, but the others surged out, ignoring casualties and firing their rifles from the hip. Spartan hit two and ducked back to cover.

  “You’re not at the rendezvous,” Kanjana said.

  Spartan sensed an accusing tone in her voice.

  “You don’t say. Track my location. We’ve been derailed. Literally.”

  There was a short pause, one long enough for him to pick up a new rifle clip and turn his fire back on the soldiers. Some of them were making a break for the engine at the front of the train. There was scattered wreckage between the rocks and the track, more than enough for the Spires soldiers to make his job more difficult. He picked off two more, and fire from the train forced the rest into cover.

  “Alert!”

  It was the armour, a simple proximity warning. Spartan reacted instantly and twisted about as one of the Anicinàbe warhounds leapt over the rock and dropped down on him. He lifted his weapon, but even he was too slow.

  “What the...”

  The heavy beast knocked him to the ground and grabbed his left arm in its vice-like jaw. The creature dug its back legs firmly to the ground and proceeded to yank and tug at the armour. Spartan lifted his left foot and jammed his boot hard at the creature’s head. It barely made an impact.

  I’m not going out like this!

  He reached down for his sidearm. The creature released its grip for a second and lurched forward to rip the weapon from his hand, snapping it in two. A squad of soldiers moved past his cover to his left. Sensing this was his only chance; he rolled to the right with the creature in pursuit and grabbed his carbine. Fire from Gun and Syala knocked down two of the Spires soldiers, but more were coming from both sides. Soon his position would be lost. The first looked as surprised as him when they looked to each other.

  “Not today, pal!”

  Spartan lowered the carbine and pulled the trigger. The pulse of green struck the soldier in the jaw, punched through his skull and out through the back of his head with a foul hissing sound. It was a guaranteed kill at this range, no matter how bad a shot he was. Something pulled at him, and he stumbled. The warhound creature leapt back over the rock as he fired and was replaced by the face of another Spires soldiers.

  “Surrender!” said the soldier in a thick accent.

  “Bad timing, pal!”

  Spartan pushed the barrel of his carbine so that the muzzle touched the soldier’s mouth. He pulled the trigger, and the headless corpse vanished from view. The other Spires soldiers pushed past the body with their weapons out and firing. Some shot towards the train, but two fired continually at Spartan. Multiple rounds struck him, and at least one breached the chest plating.

  Not good.

  He staggered back, one round after another hitting him. Alerts sounded, and he had no choice but to roll over the rocks behind him for cover. Blood trailed on the ground from his wounds, but the stimulants and drugs in the suit pumped directly into his body to keep him going, for now. Further back, the other three were busy firing into the mass of Spires soldiers coming in from three directions.

  “Help him!” Gun yelled.

  Syala was the nearest to Spartan, and once she loaded in a new clip, looked for him. Her armour communicated with Spartan’s own system, but only to share basic Friend or Foe data, as well as a secure communications channel.

  “I’m on it! Spartan, keep your head down.”

  She rose out of cover and was immediately hit by a pair of rounds. The high-velocity slugs embedded deep into her customised armour, held back only by the reinforced collar and neck armour. The power of the attack knocked her back down. She tried to scramble over the ridge.

  “No, get back here!”

  Gun dragged her out of the line of fire, using nothing but brute force to yank her away. She yelled and screamed, but a burst of shots hit where she’d just been, and that seemed to calm her for the time being. Gun rolled her over and reached for the damaged section of armour between her collar and chest.

  “Hey, that’s private!”

  Gun shook his head.

  “Females!”

  * * *

  “Ogimà Nakoma, your attack is failing. I have reports that explosions in your supply base have allowed Byotai prisoners to escape.”

  The words struck like a lance to Nakoma’s chest. Her immediate thought was that Takosk must be behind the explosions. There was no way the Byotai could have struck that hard and fast without help. She opened her mouth, but her rival continued to rage. Warm air blasted inside the aircraft, increasing in temperature as every minute went past. The single star was now easily visible and cast long shadows against the ground.

  “Your failure at Montu is spreading like wildfire through Karnak. The Byotai settlers are not running anymore. They are standing their ground, all because of your incompetence. You are as incapable as you are inept.”

  An explosion off into the distance caught Nakoma’s attention. A large plume of dust rising up high into the air followed it.

  “My personal guard has arrived, Nakoma. Your troops will contain the enemy on three sides. Do not let them escape. I will land behind them, and I will end this the way you should have.”

  Nakoma knew this was a personal attack, even more than an attack on her clan. The Spires had only managed to move into a position of relative prominence due to the Red Scars failure years before at Karnak.

  Takosk wants me to fail. Then he will seize two territories on Karnak, and his shame will be consigned to history.

  “I will assault their position from behind. Make sure that…”

  Nakoma gave the signal for the connection to be severed. Her hands were shaking, but not from fear; this was pure rage. It took her almost ten seconds before she could compose herself enough to speak.

  “Spires, we have been betrayed. The Red Scars are here. Will you let them take what is ours?”

  In answer, another of her aircraft was hit by gunfire and fell from the sky. This time it managed to right itself and staggered away trailing black smoke. Nakoma shook her head in frustration.

  “We must destroy these mercenaries and show that it is us, not the animal soldiers of Takosk, that have the right to rule here.”

  As she finished speaking, she spotted black shapes off into the distance and moving in close to the other side of the train. They were much larger than the aircraft her clan used. Wh
ere the Spires were masters of hit and run attacks and raids, the Red Scars were more of a brutal assault force. They relied upon armour and war machines, as opposed to the finesse of her people. Her confidence was shattered when she realised quite how large the Red Scars force was.

  He is not here to help me. He’s here to take over this entire region.

  The Spires clan moved ever closer, while one by one, the heavy raiding landers of the Red Scars dropped off a bizarre menagerie of contraptions a kilometre away from the battle. Nakoma snarled, realising that while she’d put two hundred soldiers and fifteen aircraft into the battle, the Red Scars had tripled that number, plus their war machines. She rose to her feet and pulled her helmet from its mount on the side of the aircraft. Two of her bodyguards removed a chest plate from the same place and helped fit it to her.

  I will lead the last assault, and I do not care which enemy I will be fighting.

  * * *

  Gun watched the vast horde of war machines coming from the opposite side of the train from the current attack and began to laugh. There were just four of them at the train, and this vast enemy seemed like a cruel joke to him now.

  “They really want to make sure, don’t they?”

  General Daniels twisted back to watch.

  “They don’t want us getting back to the Byotai, or even worse, speaking to the Alliance. If the Byotai see what we can do, and that they can be beaten, well, what do you think will happen next?”

  Gun shrugged.

  “I’ll tell you something else, Gun.”

  “What?”

  The General grinned.

  “They mean business.”

  Both looked at more than a dozen large wheeled vehicles almost the same size as a train carriage. The tops were open to the elements and filled with weapon toting soldiers. Darting in about this formation were twice as many smaller vehicles, carrying harpoon guns and automatic cannons. They had begun firing even at this long-range to little effect. Gun heard shouting and went to the side of the carriage, peeking through the many small holes in the metal. Even he was staggered at the line of soldiers closing on their position. It looked like a medieval battle where hundreds of soldiers would line up on the battlefield. Gun banged his fist on the side of the train wreckage.

  “General, help Spartan.”

  From his position higher up, General Daniels had the perfect view of the enemy. For now the vehicles on the other side were too far away to engage. He would deal with that when the time came. He’d purposely kept his head down, and there was only a tiny gap through the broken metal on the upper section of the carriage he dared look through. He fired one more shot and slid off to the right to get a view of the nearby position occupied by Spartan. He’d seen all kinds of combat, but what he could see took him right back to the war.

  What is he doing?

  Spartan rolled back until just twenty metres from the train when the Spires soldiers finally overran his position. Gun could see a creature snapping at his heels, and two-dozen or more soldiers were knocking him to the ground. He felt a lump in his throat but grinned when he saw Spartan back on his feet. In his hands was a blade, something taken from one of the Spires soldiers, and he was hacking away. The blows continued to rain down on him.

  “Shoot on Spartan’s position.”

  General Daniels loosed off a dozen shots, several striking home. Two managed to hit Spartan, but thankfully with no obvious effect. Then came the screaming sound of falling objects. He looked up at the sleek shape of their Jackal dropship. It barrel rolled while a single arrow shaped fighter pursued it behind the nearest hills.

  “General!” Syala shouted.

  He looked back and found himself looking at the first three of the Red Scars vehicles. One was coming right at them, the warriors on board waving weapons and howling like teenagers. Shots blasted away, and he quickly ducked back into cover and checked his magazine.

  “Not good. Not good at all.”

  The scream of engines suddenly stopped and was replaced with the screaming voices of warriors. He moved out of cover for an instant, took aim, and fired three times. Two of the enemy were hit, and then they were amongst them around the train. Whereas the Spires soldiers were careful in their movements, these Red Scars were like wild animals.

  “Die!” Gun roared.

  He glanced to the left; at least a dozen of them had been surprised by Gun. The massive warrior was shot at least three times, but now he was amongst them. A few foolish ones fired back at him, and in their haste managed to shoot their own people. The first two went down from strikes with his left arm, and then a third hacked at him with a curved blade, knocking the rifle from his right hand, a weapon he’d been using as a club.

  “Ha, ha!” he laughed.

  Reaching forward, he grabbed the warrior’s arm, locked it, and then yanked. The entire limb ripped out, leaving a screaming warrior and blood pumping all over Gun’s body. He swung the arm over his head and smashed the bloody object back into the warrior’s face.

  “That’s how to disarm somebody!”

  Another shot hit him in the chest, and this time the impact seemed to have an effect. He staggered back, shook his head, swinging his arms to strike yet more of them.

  General Daniels dropped his now empty rifle and lifted his sidearm.

  “I’m coming!”

  His shooting was precise, no more than two rounds per target. Something struck his left arm, another hit his cheek, and he was on the ground. He could feel the warm blood trickling down his face.

  “This can’t…”

  A massive thud shook the ground so hard he almost left the ground for a second. It was something as loud and powerful as the collapse of a massive building. His first instinct was to roll to the side and brace himself for the heat of a bombing run. For the split second, he was sure he could see the dark shapes of large bipedal fighting machines, and then the entire area filled with dust engulfing the defenders, the train, and every single one of the attackers. The last thing he heard was the relentless hammering sound of heavy weapons firing.

  * * *

  Jackal Dropship ‘Haywire’

  Kanjana pulled on the column and twisted the dropship through an incredible series of manoeuvres. She was flying at a little over two hundred feet and back toward the mountains, away from the train site. The drop had been a lot closer than she’d intended, and the engine intakes were partially clogged from the dust kicked up by the battle around the train. A quick glance showed the battle site was full of dust, made worse by the soldiers’ landing.

  Good luck, Khan.

  She wanted to go back and provide air cover, but as well as the massive amount of ground fire, there was still the issue of the remaining fighter that had followed her down from space.

  “Everybody okay back there?”

  The six mercenaries acknowledged from inside their protective cocoons.

  Good.

  “Help them. We have to protect Spartan and the others. The suits are expendable, our people are not.”

  The pursuing fighter was close, and its guns firing almost continually. Impact after impact was registered; and at any moment Kanjana expected to see the engines had finally been destroyed.

  “You arrogant...little…”

  Kanjana forced the dropship down even lower and through a complex series of rocky arches and valleys. Both spacecraft left a wake of heated dust behind them as they banked and rolled through impossibly tight gaps. The gun battle abated for a short time until they moved out into a more open section. Kanjana made a subtle course correction and then reversed the engines.

  “Here we go!”

  The change in velocity was massive, and if it hadn’t been for the thick straps, she would have been thrown against the windscreen. For a brief moment, the Anicinàbe slipped past, and then she hit the burn mode. Unknown to the fighter pilot, there was nothing but a jagged outcrop of rock in front of them. The dropship narrowly avoided crashing as it pulled away. The fighter
was ripped to shreds by the impact. At the same time, the final few rounds from the automatic cannons struck her other engine, and this time the damage was severe.

  “What was that?”

  The dropship lurched to the right and quickly lost speed. Kanjana knew right away she was in trouble. A glance at the navigation screen showed the location of the capital Montu, the mountain range, the track system, and the Byotai enclave of Caldos. The latter was the only location flagged by her sister as safe.

  “Very well, Caldos, here we come. Let’s hope the locals are friendly.”

  The dropship groaned as if it was trying to remove a painful projectile, when in fact it was barely staying airborne. Using every trick she knew, Kanjana somehow levelled the craft and plotted a slowly descending course to Caldos. Then, and only then, did she break radio silence.

  “Mayday, mayday. This is Haywire. I’ve been heavily damaged, need assistance.”

  After doing a mental translation, she repeated the message in broken Byotai. Unlike the others, she was natively fluent, at least partially in Byotai. Red warning lights came on as a fire broke out on the number two engine.

  “Haywire, we receive you.”

  Kanjana exhaled in relief at hearing the sound of Arana.

  “Land near the enclave. They will be waiting for you.”

  Another explosion ripped the cowling off her engines, and she found the dropship coming down fast. The hills between her and the enclave were now impassable, so she banked hard, trading height for speed and turned back toward the signs of battle.

  “Fair enough, in that case fire support is what I’ll bring.”

  As her course altered, she found herself looking at the long raised section, out in the open and between the two tunnels leading into the mountains. On one side were the large numbers of Spires soldiers and aircraft, most of which had now landed to disgorge the rest of their soldiers. On the other side of the track was a widely dispersed formation of fast moving ground vehicles. Many were small, but she counted plenty of larger wheeled vehicles, each bristling with warriors.