No more needed to be said on the subject, both knew the problem of sending help. Conventional starships would take many months to reach them, even using the Spacebridge network between stars. Just travelling from planet to planet could take many weeks. Gun could easily mobilise every soldier he had and assemble an expedition to leave within a week. But he would then be faced by the terrible problem of interstellar travel. The easiest solution would be to charter a dozen ships at significant cost, and still not arrive until the middle of the next year. The only ships capable of high-speed travel were the Confederate Class Assault Carriers. These mighty four hundred metre-long vessels could warp space-time with their experimental Alcubierre stardrive, and by using the Spacebridges to cut the trip down to a matter of days.
Spartan knew this. They'd used their contacts with the Biomech rebels to create incredible pieces of technology, but Spartan, Khan, and Gun in particular had been inspired to create the semi-independent Interstellar Assault Brigade. Funded by a small levy from each Alliance colony, this force used recruits from all races, and combined with their high-speed ships could resolve crises in days, rather than months. As Spartan waited in that grim, underground cavern, more than anything he wanted to see those dreaded starships overhead, and with their payloads of elite warriors dropping down to help.
Gun, you old fool. Get here fast. A few more battles like the one that's coming, and we'll be done.
They both looked back into the darkness where so many of the militia and mercenaries waited in silence. They were the Rats of Karnak, a moniker given to them by an enemy weeks earlier, and now lovingly adopted by the remaining veterans of the bloody close quarter combat that had become prevalent in the urban parts of the region.
They don't have much left in them.
The war for the border world of Karnak should have ended a month ago, but all that had changed. With the Star Empire now occupying swathes of territory, it was hard, if not impossible to motivate many of the Byotai to keep fighting. They were a tough people, but could he blame them for wanting it to all be over? Spartan placed his hand on Khan's shoulder.
"We could have ended this a month ago. Victory was in our grasp, and then that bastard with his Exiles screwed us hard."
Khan sighed as he recalled recent events.
"Yeah, I thought we'd done it. If I get my hands on him, he is gonna pay. And I mean, pay. In the old way."
Spartan's eyebrows rose in mock surprise; all of them had been betrayed by the Exiles and their leader. That attack had cost them much and left them with the remnants of the once victorious Southern militias. Gone was any chance of a quick victory, and instead the start of a long, violent, and miserable struggle amidst the ruins of the barren world. Thousands lay dead, and the ruins of the South lay filled with wounded citizens, workers, and soldiers of the Byotai. The rest of their friends were scattered along the line. Syala and Arana were commanding the Northern defences, while Kanjana liaised with those still fighting at Hyndla. It was chaotic, but until they could win a victory, it was unlikely to change.
The rebels clung to the dusty walls of the tunnels as the very ground shuddered beneath their feet. The entire Southern Depression, like the rest of Karnak, and now the entire Tenth Quadrant was fighting a war for survival. By any measure, the Byotai and their allies were outnumbered, losing people, resources, and ground every day.
Bombs, gunfire, and flames ravaged Movi; a fate it suffered to the fact that against all odds, the Byotai still held it. From the surface, it looked like a pockmarked ruin, little remaining of the great urban sprawls of the South. Yet for all the violence and carnage, Spartan’s motley collection of warriors of the Interstellar Assault Brigade had not given up. They were at war, and right now dozens of their units lay poised to rise up. While many of the militias had disbanded or gone into hiding, Spartan and his mercenaries had rallied what remained of the rebels and clung to their underground hiding places, continuing to fight back. It was so difficult to dislodge them that tens of thousands of enemy troops now tried to finish the war, a war that should have ended the day they arrived.
"Spartan," said Khan.
They shared a glance, but Khan beckoned to his left where one of the Helions approached. The soldier moved slowly, careful to avoid excessive sound, even this far from the surface.
"Major."
The accent was thick, but the body language showed a degree of mutual respect. Even now Spartan was amazed at how much English the aliens could understand. It was becoming something of a mutual battle language, and he even wondered it if might spread further than any Human might travel.
"Squads are ready, Major. Just give us the word."
Spartan nodded. "Good work, it won't be long now."
The soldier was protected behind layers of heavy assault armour, while Spartan wore his prototype M-3B Armour. Tight fitting and covered with smooth plates, it was the most advanced piece of protective gear in the Alliance inventory. He checked his carbine and then nodded at the nearest militiaman. It was a reptilian, a young soldier that looked surprisingly calm, with his rifle in one hand and running the bayonet gently along the side of his leg.
"Khan, look," said Spartan.
The two scrutinised the videostream from the surface. It showed many of the buildings appeared to be intact, but closer examination showed few structures had survived the incessant shelling. A thick layer of smoke, mixed with dust spread across the ground. With visibility so poor, it had reduced the ability of either side to use aircraft, and ground forces moved from their hiding places in a desperate attempt to end the long stalemate.
"There," said Khan, "They are moving to the edge of the storm drain."
"I see them."
They watched the horde move from the rubble and ruins to the very edge of the bone dry storm drain. The rebels controlled just one section of the city that ran along the Western side of the ruins. This slice of shattered urban sprawl marked a quarter of Movi, yet after two weeks of continuous attacks, the Byotai rebels still clung on. The demarcation line between the two sides was a large storm drain that created a no man's land nearly two hundred metres wide, and sank down two metres into the rock. One of their number dropped down the two-metre gap, stumbled, and then lifted his banner up high. Spartan winced as he watched many more drop down alongside him.
Here it comes.
A great roar thundered through the floor, and after one final shake of artillery, the guns stopped. Spartan coughed and nearly choked.
"Water," said Khan.
Spartan sniffed while reaching for the water tube with his tongue. He took a quick sip, feeling the tepid water drip through his throat, providing instant relief. He then tapped his helmet, and the visor hissed into position, followed by a gentle clunk sound. Spartan lifted his carbine from its mount, activated the power coils, and pointed to the ramp at the side of the tunnel.
"To your positions!"
Whistles and sirens blared throughout the rebel lines as hatches swung open, doors opened, and dirt fell away from a hundred hiding places. Spartan clambered up the ramp and kept moving until finally passing through a large grate that had just been moved. Khan was behind him, and scores more continued to join them.
This really is hell.
Spartan couldn't even tell if it was day or night anymore. The sun was gone, and clouds of smog and dust reduced visibility to a few hundred metres at most.
"Barricades!" Khan yelled.
They moved down from the higher ground to the piles of broken masonry and metal that provided low walls, strongpoints, and observation positions for miles along the storm drain. From there it looked more like a wide highway. Spartan reached his chosen part of the barricade in a section between two collapsed factory buildings. The wall was over a metre tall and reinforced with metal bars. Khan formed up on his right, while a mix of Byotai militia and Helion mercenaries spread out and into the distance. Something moved under the dirt, and then a half Humanoid machine lifted up from the dust. Two Khreenk operators moved
behind it and activated the weapon platform.
"Khreenk robots. Love them!" said Khan.
Spartan laughed at the pleasure Khan derived from such simple things. Khan gave a subtle nod as a trio of Blood Pack Jötnar ran into position twenty metres off to their left. Both wore the same battered iron-coloured armour as Khan, and one limped from a barely concealed injury. Seconds later, one looked back to Khan.
"Here they come!"
Spartan's form was already changing as the experimental chromatophore technology shifted the plating colour to the dull greys and browns of the surrounding ground. It was little needed out here, where nearly every warrior’s was now the same tone, as though every shade of colour had been sucked away. He clambered on top of the rubble, and Khan joined him even though it exposed both to enemy fire, of which so far there was none.
"Take aim. Wait until they hit the markers."
Scores of carbines and rifles lowered as the motley group of defenders took aim. Spartan and Khan continued to call out orders, buoying up their spirits prior to the battle. According to the tactical data on his integrated mapping system, Spartan could see they were well entrenched on their side of the storm drain. There were three major strong points where the defenders held layered positions, and behind him was the first. He looked back and lifted his gaze to the low-slung hill starting fifty metres back. On top of its peak was another line of rubble, topped by sharpshooters and missile systems. A single Byotai flag fluttered at the middle of the position, more burnt shards than fabric.
"One hundred metres," said Khan.
Spartan looked back, tapped the range setting on his carbine, and lowered himself behind the rubble. The gun was ready, and a cursory look showed him everybody else was, too. He looked out across the storm drain as a massive series of flashes lit up the horizon.
"Head's down!"
Spartan threw himself to the floor a fraction of a second before the extra bombardment arrived. A robot lowered itself down to its hull, making a humming sound as its motors actuated.
Clever!
The shells struck around the defences, many high-explosive shells ripping into the defenders, causing casualties, death, and confusion wherever they struck. Spartan lifted his head for a second, as a pair of Byotai vanished in a horrific blast. Heads and limbs flew in all directions, and a handful of the militia turned and started to withdraw. Spartan opened his mouth to call them back, but the Blood Pack warriors were already there, blocking their path and sending them back.
"They can't take much more."
Spartan gave Khan a quick glance.
"Trust me, I know."
They both looked to the East where the dark shape of the horde moved ever closer. He waited for a second until he spotted the front ranks pass the markers they’d painted on shattered masonry and rusted metal.
"Up!"
Hundreds of defenders rose from the ruins and took aim at the enemy as shapes moved towards them at speed. The fog and dust made it impossible to see what weapons they carried, but they were moving fast and heading for the thinly defended Byotai lines. Khan lifted his Thumper and howled before looking back to Spartan.
"It's time. Let's bring the pain!"
Spartan could have laughed, even amidst such barbarity. Both had seen so much blood, this battle felt little different to the hundreds of others, but as he pointed to the approaching enemy, he felt strange. It might have been the dark, mystical look of the scarred landscape, or perhaps because this was a war for another people, and not his own. He had no great ties to the Byotai, yet he'd built a rapport and camaraderie with them that transcended race.
"Fire!"
Spartan barely needed to aim as there were so many targets coming towards them. The XC1 Carbine Prototype kicked into his shoulder as he fired short bursts. The range on the weapon was not great, but on this occasion it wasn't an issue. The superheated, magnetically sealed shells struck the enemy one after the other, and every impact ripped off heads and limbs.
"Yeah, get some!" Khan roared.
He looked massive amid the rubble with his body from the waist up visible. His Thumper shuddered as it unleashed modified high-explosive shells into the advancing lines. Spartan fired again just as the rifles joined in. There were a hundred different firearms in the hands of the defenders, but those that remained fighting were the toughest, most experienced and reliable so far. Their shooting was careful, precise, and brought down hundreds in less than a minute. Gunfire continued to ripple from the other side of the storm drain, but not one shot seemed to reach the valiant defenders.
"They are insane, and their covering fire is pathetic!" Khan laughed.
He slipped in a box magazine and kept firing, leaving smoke to belch from the overheated barrels. All along the line the guns fired, like soldiers in some old historical movie. In parts of the Byotai some knelt shoulder to shoulder, and in other places they fired from prone positions. So many of the Technos fell that Spartan almost gave the order to cease fire. The words were on his lips just as the lights in the distance flickered again. He instinctively ducked down and then called out on the open channel.
"Artillery!"
Some dropped down, but many were so caught up in the gunfight that they kept shooting. Spartan hadn't even realised the enemy had not fired a single shot yet. In all his years, he'd never seen such discipline and stupidity at the same time.
There must be two hundred casualties by now. When will they fire?
This time the shells were less accurate, and the first were much too short, some even hitting in the centre of the Techno lines. Some of the Byotai rose up from the defences and waved their weapons in pleasure. Rockets came down and struck the defences, followed by thirty seconds of unending explosions. Spartan's head pounded from the impacts before he realised his people were not shooting. Clambering over the peak of the rubble he looked out to the storm drain, and to his horror spotted the mangled and battered remnants of the Techno vanguard staggering about in stunned confusion. Many of them still pushed on. Dozens were already at the edge of the drain and clambering up.
"Hold them back!"
Spartan clambered to the top of the ridge and then fired a long burst into those climbing up the two-metre incline. Many were cut down, but those behind simply used the bodies as ramps to rush up. Spartan slammed in another clip and fired again. Scores were hit, but these first attackers were almost entirely unarmed. Most were Byotai, and upon seeing this, Spartan jumped down. As he reached the broken wall sections that ran along the storm drain, he saw the terrible truth for himself.
"Hold your fire. They are our people!"
A few stopped shooting, but with so many hundreds streaming across, many in the barricades couldn't help themselves. Hundreds of the poor souls clambered up, and behind them Spartan could see the advanced lines of true Technos. All were armed, and they blasted any of the civilians trying to turn back. They didn't come any closer, though, staying at maximum range while shooting and chanting their bizarre words.
Damn it, damn them all to hell! Stop firing!
Spartan helped as many of the civilians as he could, as many climbed up over the steep edge. Only sporadic fire continued along the line as they exchanged fire with the Technos. Movement was long forgotten, and both sides blasted away, causing minor damage to each other. A female Byotai ran past him screaming, and Spartan tried to help her. She pushed him away and rushed up a slope, only for one of the Blood Pack to block her path. She turned away and screamed while tearing off her shirt. Spartan nearly looked away until he spotted the bottles around her body.
"Suicide b...!"
The unfortunate Byotai exploded in a terrible explosion, taking her and those close to her in an awful explosion of flesh, metal, and gore. A handful of blood splattered across Spartan's armour as he rushed towards them both, and then slumped to his knees on the ground. Khan spotted his friend, and assuming he'd been hit, stepped back from his position and ran to help. By the time he reached Spartan, his frie
nd was already upright, with blood dripping from his armour. He pointed his carbine at the Byotai and shouted loudly, his translators kicking in immediately.
"Stop, now!"
Some did as they were told, but others ran through gaps created by the defenders. None of them wanted to be near the booby-trapped civilians that could kill them as easily as the next. Spartan pointed his weapon across the storm drain.
"We end this, right now. Who will come with me?"
Because of the smoke, it was almost impossible to tell what was happening further North, but that didn't matter to him. All of the Blood Pack lifted their Thumpers and howled; the mercenaries did the same. Few of the militia joined in, though a small percentage, perhaps excited by the shouting from the others, stepped up.
"Then fix bayonets and join me!"
Spartan ran to the bottom of the ridge and leapt over the edge, his thick, armoured boots crashing into the filthy rock. Khan was right next to him and still firing the monster of a gun into the distant ranks of the enemy. They were so busy creating a solid wall of chanting warriors they'd not bothered, or even considered forming up into any kind of a defensive position. Scores of Jötnar, plus five times as many other mercenaries rushed to the front, while small groups of militia ran behind them, using the armour of those in front to shield them from the rain of gunfire.
"Form line!"
The Jötnar and mercenaries stopped immediately and dropped to their knees. As one, they lifted their weapons to their shoulders and took aim. Each was a crack shot, and at a distance of less than a hundred metres, they were perfectly placed to score many clean kills. The Technos returned fire, but with such large numbers present, only those right at the front could fire. A small number of the mercenaries were cut down, but their own gunfire proved devastating.
"Up," said Spartan.
As one, the unit rose to their feet, still firing or loading their weapons.
"Charge!"
Spartan ran ahead of the group as usual and never bothered looking back. Khan and the others were there, and in seconds, they were across the killing ground, over the bodies slick with blood, and at the front rank of the Techno mob. The mercenaries ignored the sporadic volleys of poorly aimed gunfire, many of the shots missing or merely glancing off their state of the art armour. Then came the true test. Spartan physically leapt from the ground a metre from the line and crashed into them, knocking down five in one movement.
War Zone (Star Crusades: Mercenaries Book 5) Page 3