"Bring the prisoners. We have to get back fast."
An Exile soldier limped towards him and groaned in pain. Artesi lifted a hand to silence him, yet still he spoke.
"Decanus, we've been trapped down here for weeks. Our wounded cannot..."
The poor soldier never uttered another word as the Decanus slid out a blade from his flank and drew it across the soldier's throat. He dropped to the ground, gurgling as blood bubbled and frothed from the deep gash.
"Secure the prisoners. We move now!"
Artesi looked at the beautifully armoured figure before him and lowered his head.
"As you wish."
In less than four minutes, the prisoners were ready, and they moved in behind Decanus Seanoi and his soldiers.
"Your unit has done well. This Biomech spawn will be a useful asset for our master."
Artesi bowed again but was already trying to decide how to make the most of the situation. He’d found the wounded warrior inside the wrecked spacecraft and fought off three separate assaults by the enemy to recover him. Now he wanted the reward he well deserved, and with every step, he knew that this Decanus would attempt to claim the glory for himself.
"Follow me."
The unit moved away, and Artesi watched those ahead of him with interest. Their armour was as lavish as it was durable. Yet as they moved, he could tell they were wary of ambush from the dreaded mercenaries. They were all a long way from the surface, but to emerge here would result in their immediate deaths. Snipers and kill teams from both sides lay scattered in the ruins, and this sector was still nominally under the control of two units of Byotai militia.
"Was it difficult reaching us?" Artesi asked.
The Decanus hissed a reply through his teeth, clearly not keen on speaking to him.
"We lost four soldiers getting to you. The enemy is looking for this...thing. We must be fast."
The group fell silent, and they moved back into the never-ending labyrinth of tunnels and shafts. The Decanus was not lying. It had not been easy to make it this far, but in the confusion of the constant bombardments, he'd succeeded where other teams had failed. In the end, he’d broken through the Byotai lines by moving much deeper and using the same tunnels they used. In less than six hours, his unit had reached the Exile loyalists, and victory was but a short distance away.
For all his grandeur, Decanus Seanoi was one of those new arrivals to Karnak. And though lacking in combat experience, he relished the chance for glory, but more important, recognition in the new regime. He'd spent months in training, and represented the first in the new generation of loyalists to the meritocracy founded among the ashes of the two rival superpowers. Like so many of his contemporaries, it wasn't the new order that interested him, and he had little interest in their supposed long history. No, all that interested him was what the regime could offer him.
What's that?
He stopped and sniffed the air in the dark, damp tunnel. He could detect something close, but as his nostrils twitched, the odour seemed to fade away into nothing.
This should have ended a month ago. This Human, the one they call Spartan. I will have his head on a spike before this is over.
Just thinking about it put a great, wide smile on his face. Unlike the others in the unit, he was an Exile, a warrior brought in by Tahkeome to secure their control of the planet. He carried the build of a Byotai well, but his voice betrayed his mixed ancestry, something that would have held him back in the past, in either Byotai or Anicinàbe military circles. He looked back at his warriors and then sniffed the air three more times.
"It's clear. Keep moving."
The sixteen soldiers of his Contubernia squads moved in silence through the wide underground shaft, the remnants of the Exile unit following at the rear with the prisoners. The newly raised Contubernia units worked across Karnak on a variety of missions, from scouting and convoy escorts, to assassination and capture missions. Every day they honed their skills against the ever-shrinking numbers of enemy soldiers. Most days they engaged Byotai militias, but today had been different. They'd encountered a unit of Helion soldiers trying to bolster the Byotai front lines. He'd enjoyed killing them, taking their equipment, and opening a breach in the enemy's front-line.
They'd had their small victory, the reward the chance to sneak deep into enemy territory to where Artesi and his group were in hiding. The Contubernia units in the South had tried on multiple occasions to breach the defences, but a mixture of luck and guile, Decanus Seanoi and his small number of soldiers had succeeded where so many others had failed. Now they were heading back, and with a small number of prisoners to return with.
We have done well, very well.
They advanced in pairs, their rifles resting under their arms, but ready for a fight. One Contubernia marched at the front, the second group escorting the chained Jötnar who snarled and grunted almost continually. Every time he tried to stop, multiple blades were stabbed into his flesh, adding yet more wounds to his half-naked body. Two equally bloodied and badly wounded Human prisoners moved behind him, encouraged to move through violence and intimidation.
Dust fell continually from the ceiling, making the dull beams of light move like lances through the clouds. The formation advanced at a steady walking place, every one of them looking for hidden dangers. The penal troopers were clearly agitated, while the regular Contubernia squads scanned every square centimetre as they moved. They looked nothing like their supporting penal unit of clan soldiers moving ahead of them. Their bodies and limbs were fully protected by multiple layers of articulated bone-coloured material fitted over a dark grey, almost black under armour. The Contubernia was an ancient division of troops dating back to the ancient Star Empire of old Anicinàbe myth. Their charismatic leader, Princeps Tahkeome used old myth and history to create this elite cadre of warriors to back up numerous armies of volunteer Technophobes and penal troops.
These small squads were tightly bonded units of individuals that for the first time included Byotai, Anicinàbe, and mixed races in their numbers. Race was no longer important. What mattered was their desire to fight for the ideals of the recreated Star Empire. They received standard training, but the created esprit de corps had eight Star Empire soldiers that trained, fought, and ate together could not be underestimated. What they lacked in combat experience, they made up for with strong political indoctrination, and a belief in the new world order of merit over birth. Even their unit leaders were chosen from their own number and created as their elected Decanus.
"Silence!" said Decanus Seanoi, "You will speak when spoken to!"
While the troopers of the Contubernium wore their off-white coloured armour, their commander looked very different in the regalia of the elite Honour Guard units of the Star Empire. The bone-coloured armour was tinted with an odd tint, giving a bronzed hue to the plates. An angular helmet with a tall crest lifted up at the forehead, fully covering the head and face, with just the eye sockets left open for the red-tinted goggles worn by them all. Across his shoulder and back hung a purple and bronzed cloak that reached almost to his knees. The muscle chest armour articulated in silence, giving him the look of an ancient statue, golden and gleaming in the darkness.
"Sir," said his second, "Contact from the gunships. They are waiting for us."
Seanoi let out a slow, calm breath.
"Good, a successful mission. No other unit has achieved as much."
They were the 4th and 5th Contubernium, taken from the 2nd Century of the newly raised Karnak Legion. It was rumoured that Tahkeome was busy creating at least one new legion from every conquered colony to serve in his growing military. All of them bore their Legion’s insignia, alongside the two-headed serpent of the Star Empire.
A penal soldier looked back at the glorious figure of his officer and was instantly rewarded with the crack of a sharpened whip that bit into his thin clothing. The unit's Decanus pointed to the broken warriors now forced to carry out their bidding. They were not the trained
, regular soldiers working their way across Karnak. These were the surviving members of the defeated Red Scars, Kolchan, Spires, and Zuni clans forced to fight for their new masters, or were executed on the spot.
"Another word, or look from any of you, and one will taste a bullet. Now...march!"
The penal troopers pushed on in silence, hiding their bitter hatred towards the new arrivals. Months before these proud warriors had fought in the sky and on the ground. Now they were mere tools, used to scout the underground tunnels with no more than modest firearms and little or no armour. Even in such a poor state, they were still more than a match for most of the Byotai militias, and now harboured a bitter hatred of anybody or anything that got in their way.
Something moved off in the distance, and Decanus Seanoi lifted one arm. The unit of regulars stopped while the penal troopers shuffled ahead. The Decanus didn't bother calling them back and waited as they passed the potential danger unharmed. He smiled to himself and then signalled to continue.
"Stay alert."
Seanoi scowled upon seeing the battered shaped of the monstrous synthetic Human. It was as big as it was ugly, and he found his body shuddering just looking at the thing.
"Tahkeome wants this one, and he wants him today."
He moved closer and examined the battered figure. The creature still wore a thick layer of underarmour, and sections of plate remained on his upper legs and chest where they seemed almost fused onto his flesh.
"So this is the mighty Khan, leader of the Biomech monsters on this planet, and second-in-command to the war criminal, Spartan."
Narrow, dark eyes looked back, and though the beast strained, it was almost impossible for him to move while bound by the thick metal manacles, chains, and plates attached to his neck and limbs. There was no understanding of language between the two aliens, but the bitterness and hatred was easy enough to make out, even with such a vast gulf separating them. Seanoi moved even closer to examine the monster.
"You will end this war for us, Khan, voluntarily, or not."
Olik began to chuckle as he heard the name of his friend once again. He had no idea what any of the aliens were saying, but he had no problem recognising the name of his old friend and mentor. Each time the armoured warrior said Khan, Olik laughed until Seanoi lost it and spat in his face as he moved away.
"I'm gonna enjoy killing you...filth."
Olik's voice was calm, which was strange considering his situation. Even as they moved ahead, he continued to look around, always ready to seize a moment, even if it meant more pain or death. Seanoi carried on moving ahead, but always with one eye checking back on his prisoners.
We must be careful. They will already be trying to plug their defences.
This was his first mission as commander, and he wanted everything to go according to plan. The days of fighting as a lowly grunt were over. Seanoi was ambitious, and the beaten and broken Byotai the perfect vehicle to propel him to greatness within the brand new Imperial regime. He'd fought under the command of Spartan and his Humans, even trained alongside the hulking Jötnar back on Taxxu, deep inside Alliance territory. Not even that level of closeness could make him feel any sympathy towards them.
They are the spawn of the Biomechs, and these Humans, they are their new servants. Only we can save us from their foulness.
The indoctrination of Seanoi and his soldiers was complete, and each lived and breathed their new lives with a single common goal, to remove the taint of the biomechanical monstrosities that had killed and destroyed so much. Seanoi shuddered as he looked at the shape of the Jötnar. He was one of the many thousands created as shock troops decades earlier, and every ounce of his body urged him to kill it.
I cannot. Tahkeome will personally thank me for this one. A commander of the Humans' mercenaries, and still alive, such a prize!
Seanoi's mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and all thoughts shifted to his imagined triumph back in the capital of Montu. Months of work lay ahead, and every mission was an opportunity for him to show his worth. He took another step and listened carefully as his internal communications system activated. It was nothing as complex or advanced as the gear used by the Alliance, but it did provide reliable audio traffic. There were few words, and when it finished, he said nothing more than a simple acknowledgement. Once disconnected, he looked to his own regulars, ignoring the nervous glances from the penal troopers.
"Air support is coming in for the city. They will provide cover for our withdrawal."
His second nodded in the direction they were all moving.
"All our kill teams are converging on the extraction zone, right now?"
Seanoi nodded.
"Yes, four teams, all to be withdrawn by gunship. The enemy is moving in fast. They clearly know these tunnels better than us."
His second clicked his heels smartly in agreement, a pointless yet carefully trained characteristic of the new military units’ indoctrination.
"They truly are the Rats of Karnak."
Seanoi ignored his second and gave those ahead a stern look. He then increased the volume of his voice, along with a much harsher tone.
"Pick up the pace. It's time to go home. In the meantime, enjoy the bombardment. Our bombers have arrived."
He sounded almost gleeful as the column quickened its pace.
It is a good time to be alive.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kha'Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance
The klaxon sang their song, as they had scores of times earlier. This time was different. He could tell from the sounds and shudders. The young man gulped at hearing that. He'd never seen action before, and seeing so many of them rushing to their position brought a look of stunned horror to his face.
"What's happening? We're light years from the fighting."
Gun had seen this before, but today he didn't have the time for it. This was not a scheduled drill. He knew the difference between a simulated attack and an actual attack with relatively little effort. There were some things too complex and expensive to simulate an attack in this part of the ship.
"This is no simulation. Remember your training, and you'll come out of this alive."
A modified L48C carbine lay attached to a mount on his flank, while on the other side a sidearm slung down low. It was modest protection, but still more than enough for a firefight. Gun noticed some of the trainees were forming up in a different group.
Star Empire forces out here? I don't think so.
Gun was no fool. The journey to the Black Rift was long and dangerous as it was. To breach the Rift via the strong security cordon manned by Alliance and CTC operatives would require a strong frontal assault.
Unless they let them in.
Even as his trainees ran to their positions, Gun's eyes drifted to the status table in his helmet. Although open, a small panel to the lower corner was just visible. Gun could see the IFF markers still showing at the entrance to the Black Rift.
Seems okay. Four CTC cutters are there. Weird, usually just one or two to assist with the...
Gun gulped upon the awful realisation. Though he was second-in-command to the IAB, he did run the day-to-day operations in the area. Defence of Taxxu was under the jurisdiction of Orion Command, and whatever naval vessels were currently in the area. Just thinking of those ships sent a shudder of suspicion through his spine. He wasn't scared or even a little nervous. Years of combat and struggle had left him stoic, even in the direst of occasions. The possibility of betrayal did make him angry, and that was something best avoided with Gun.
Argo...and Kerberos, they should both be on perimeter defence.
The two ships were small Dragoon Class frigates, and part of the permanently stationed vessels that took turns patrolling the Rift entrance. Four more waited in their berths alongside the World Ship. Gun felt concerned at the hundreds of lives aboard those two vessels. He blinked and looked straight into the eyes of the young trainee. The man was consumed by nerves, with the terrifying expecta
tion of combat against an unseen enemy.
CTC, it has to be.
Gun's upper lip quivered with frustration. None of them had wanted to work with the mega corporation, but it had been the only way to get the people and investment so far from the core worlds of the Alliance.
Gun had a partial investment in the company, at least in respect of the shares of the company he, Spartan, and the others owned in the joint military and private venture known as the Special Weapons Division. Though technically an Alliance military operation, there were as many CTC technicians involved as military. Private sector money and expertise, combined with military infrastructure was what made it all work. But none of this could have happened without Gun, Spartan, Khan, and Olik. Together they'd persuaded the surviving Biomech rebels to share and reveal their secrets. Although slowly, and with the utmost care. It had made them all wealthy, and boosted CTC and the Alliance's capabilities by a generation.
I knew this would come back one day and bite me in the ass. I just knew it!
"No, we play this smart and by the numbers."
Gun paused and looked around at the dozens of trainees. New cadets might have waited around for orders, but they were already showing their initiative and independence, as he would have expected of them. Each was both skilled and well motivated, and that was how they'd been fast-tracked out of the military academies and direct to Taxxu for IAB training.
"NCOs, listen up!"
Without a moment's pause, each of the veterans stopped what they were doing to listen to Gun. The trainees were all fresh and newly trained, but the NCOs were previous marines in the IAB, and had proven themselves. Some had been trainees themselves during the incident with the ancient derelict, months earlier. Those that survived were now part of an elite cadre of fighting men and women.
"We're in trouble, and I mean, serious trouble. I want ambush scenario Alpha! Now!"
They'd practiced the drill the day before, and it was one Gun liked them to work on. After decades of war, he was very familiar with the dangers presented by attacks that occurred at inopportune moments. It was much easier to fight a defensive battle when you knew the attack was coming, and that was a rare luxury. Lieutenant Yarmuk may have been nervous, but in seconds he was there, in the middle, and barking commands to the NCOs and the trainees. Gone were the nerves, and the training kicked back in, as it was supposed to. All of them behaved as though it was another drill rather than an actual combat operation.
War Zone (Star Crusades: Mercenaries Book 5) Page 6