War Zone (Star Crusades: Mercenaries Book 5)

by Thomas, Michael G.

  "Hit them hard!"

  A handful of the penal troopers turned to run, but gunfire from behind struck three. Spartan's brow tightened in confusion as another fell from hidden gunfire. His plan was a simple one, but springing the trap early could leave the rearguard easily overwhelmed. It was critical they held their ground until given the order.

  "Knaro. Hold your fire! Damn it."

  In a single fluid motion, he slipped in another power pack and then aimed at the broken horde of troopers. The odd shot struck close, but it was nothing compared to the devastation wrought by Spartan and his team. One by one the clan warriors fell, and Spartan started to feel that familiar rage building in his blood.

  "Not me, Spartan," said Commander Knaro, "We're still waiting."

  Spartan scowled, simultaneously slipping in another clip. He then took aim and put a round into the thin helmet of a Spires soldier. Without pausing to check his kill, he pulled back to check on his own team. They were still well entrenched, and he nodded with satisfaction as a pair of the Byotai worked the side-levers of their Vorex rifles. In theory, they should have no more than a modest rate of fire, yet they were working the bolts fast, and easily putting out twenty to thirty aimed shots a minute. Spartan smiled to himself.

  Not bad, not bad at all.

  He then took aim and moved his finger to the trigger. The clan warriors ripped apart before his eyes, and to his surprise the battle was now just a few shots from completion. He'd expected a furious battle in the tunnel, but these clan warriors were a loose rabble, lacking any actual leadership or tactical awareness. Spartan was almost disappointed, until a crackle of gunfire struck one of his own soldiers and blasted the walls.

  What the hell?

  Spartan leaned out to fire, but another burst struck right where his head should have been. A Helion tried to fire and took two shots to the shoulder. The unfortunate soldier pulled back to cover, but not before a third glanced off in a shower of yellow sparks.

  "Knaro, I need you!"

  "Understood."

  The voice was strained, and he must have already broken from cover. A few seconds more and an entirely new sound tore through the tunnel. Now gunfire lashed the enemy forces, and Spartan prepared himself for the attack. He breathed rapidly, filling his lungs, and then leapt out from cover. Three of the clan warriors remained, but that was not what caught his attention. It was the wall of bone-armoured soldiers. They moved fast and clambered over the fallen clan soldiers to get to Spartan's small force.

  "Hit them again. Do not let them through!"

  He aimed low and fired a single, long burst into their torsos. Each shot exploded in a bright flash, incinerating the target with incredible heat. Yet even when three had been killed, the others kept on and blasted away with their own rapid-fire weapons. A shot breached Spartan’s neck armour, and another hit his leg, tearing off a sliver of the adaptable surface armour.

  Who are they?

  This time he had to jump into the alcove at the side of the tunnel, and that meant giving up ground or moving forward. In theory, it might be wise to trade space for time, but Knaro was exposed, and the enemy could destroy his meagre forces if they could keep Spartan out of the fight.

  "Move in!"

  No sooner did he leave his position, and more fire struck around them. It was a little lighter, though still much more accurate than he expected. Flashes of light marked the impacts in the tunnel, but it didn't stop him running across the open space to enter a small alcove. A Helion soldier spotted him and ran to join him, reaching the gap just before Spartan did. Once safely in position, he checked his tactical overlay.

  "Knaro, what's your status?"

  The Byotai leader’s voice groaned under his exertions.

  "We're hitting them hard, but these soldiers are tough. I..."

  He stopped talking as he fired, and then continued, slightly out of breath.

  "They are not clan soldiers."

  Star Empire troopers, they have to be.

  Spartan had heard the rumours, just like everybody else, but so far none of the militia units had survived to bring back any kind of useful intelligence on them. Spartan licked his lips with anticipation as he double-checked the status of his suit.

  Pressure seals breached, damage to arm and leg, and collapsed rib plate.

  He sighed at seeing the warnings and discarded them from his visor. He was in action, and there was nothing he could do about them right now.

  "They've got numbers, so we hit them, and we hit them hard. On my command, move in and assault them. Understood?"

  Commander Knaro answered right away.

  "Attack them? Are you serious? They outnumber us."

  Spartan laughed. Another burst hit the side of the tunnel, and tiny chunks of rock ripped apart, showering past him like rain. He felt amused at the odd situation he found himself in. He'd fought in space, in great sieges, and set-piece battles. But dying in a skirmish, under a ruined city, was not how he expected to die.

  "Of course I'm serious. Now, are you ready?"

  Spartan sensed the nerves coming from the Byotai, but as he answered, Spartan picked up the resolve in his voice. In every engagement it became clearer why he over all others had risen to become the most significant of the remaining regional commanders. One by one they'd been killed, run away, or captured, but not Knaro. He was the only one of them left that Spartan had any faith in.

  "Okay, Spartan. We'll do it your way."

  The translator circuit removed any hints of sarcasm, but the language was obvious enough in the middle of the fight. Spartan checked his sensory input one last time and boosted power to his armour, to increase the speed the Thegn-derived outer skin would continue to heal.

  "On my mark..."

  His hand moved into position on the carbine, he took another breath, and then moved out.

  "Now!"

  The remaining members of his squad leapt out from cover and opened fire in a single deadly broadside. The Vorex rifles plinked away, but it was the shocking firepower of Spartan's experimental carbine, and the Helion mercenary's military Sparth cannon that did the real damage. Four more enemy soldiers were cut apart, but Spartan wasn't waiting. He broke into a sprint, his carbine held ready to fire. As he reached the halfway point, he activated the bayonet, and it flicked out. Bullets crashed around him, and one hit a Helion in the chest, sending him flying backwards.

  The scream of pain faded for Spartan, though, and he hurled himself into the fray between the remaining Star Empire vanguard. Other soldiers might have broken and fled, but a handful remained, and they moved in to strike him, using their rifles as clubs. Spartan deflected the first blow to his head and a hanging parry, striking the butt of the carbine into the warrior's armoured face.

  "Come on, Knaro, hit them!"

  Something struck him from behind, and he almost stumbled before righting himself at the very last moment. Another weapon hit him, and then a third to his shoulder.

  Damn it, I could do with some of these fighting for me!

  Spartan leaned to the left, stabbed, but found the blade missed his foe by mere centimetres. A shot flashed by his head, struck the wall, and showered the group in dust. Two grabbed him around the upper body, while a third in bronzed armour, and bearing a long, thin blade moved in to strike him. It looked like a military sabre, though much more curved than anything he'd seen in Alliance ceremonial use before. As he moved closer, the front edge of the blade gleamed white, and the very air around it hissed and crackled.

  A thermal blade?

  He was as interested in staying alive, as he was in seeing this weapon up close. The thermal bolts fired by the Byotai were capable of melting armour with the initial impact, and this sword appeared to utilise some of the technology along its edges to do the same.

  Keep fighting.

  In theory, he was getting a little old to be involved in such strenuous combat, but that meant nothing to him. Years of tough workouts, physical conditioning, and medical e
nhancements on Taxxu had left him faster, stronger, and tougher than ever before. He swung out and punched one of the soldiers, but another came to take his place. In the gaps, he could just make out Knaro and his squad engaging the enemy at a range of a few metres. Some had reverted to pistols, but both sides seemed keen to avoid coming to physical blows. Something hit his left, and he lost his balance.

  "Is that it?" he yelled.

  As Spartan tipped over, he kicked out his leg and managed to partially roll into a soldier. The armoured enemy took the impact, and while he was there, Spartan put him in a headlock and snapped to the left, killing the soldier instantly. More of the bone-clad warrior surged around him, and for the briefest of moments, he wondered if in his eagerness to save Olik, he might have bitten off a little more than he could chew. Warriors on both sides fell, but as Spartan cast aside his attackers, the enemy officer drew closer, with the long blade in one hand and a snub-nosed pistol in the other.

  * * *

  Commander Knaro's heart pounded as he advanced on the rear of the enemy formation. The Star Empire soldiers were tougher than he could ever have expected. The militia were bad enough, but their quality was variable and army easily defeated by common weaponry. Of the five remaining, two stayed to watch the prisoners. The others dropped to their knees, thereby presenting a smaller target. A single Vorex rifle blasted towards them, and the bullet glanced off the plating with a screeching sound.

  Ignoring the gunfire, the small group of soldiers took aim. Their rifles were powerful. Two of his militia soldiers were cut down by the precision, high-velocity slugs, sending all but two back into cover. Instinct told Knaro to stay safe, but he had to move. A few more seconds of safety for him could spell utter defeat for this operation, and ultimately see them all killed. He exhaled and then called out to his comrades.

  "Attack them!"

  A bullet whistled past Knaro's face, narrowly avoiding killing him in a single hit. His heart pounded once more, fear racing through his body as he put himself in mortal danger. The Byotai soldier kept on moving and slid behind one of his own fallen soldiers before taking aim.

  "Keep firing!"

  Unlike the others, Commander Knaro carried an Alliance L48 rifle, an export civilian model modified until it was barely recognisable. The heavy 12.7mm projectiles lacked the sophisticated internals fitted to military rounds, but that made little difference in the close confines of the tunnel. The heavy slugs punched into the armour of the enemy soldiers, some breaching the plates, others knocking them back through the sheer kinetic energy of the bullets.

  Seeing the bravery and success of their commander, the Byotai moved out from cover and put down a withering hail of bullets to support him. Commander Knaro gulped as yet another shell narrowly avoided ending his life, but then he spotted the massive figure of the captured Olik. He was clearly wounded, but was struggling with his captors. Four of the soldiers tried to hold him back, but the confusion gave him a chance.

  "Charge!"

  He dug his feet into the ground and then burst into a run. Had he looked back, he might have stayed exactly where he was. Though keen to help, not one militiaman broke ranks and continued to put down fire on the enemy. Knaro reached the confused group of soldiers and aimed from the hip. He opened fire at point-blank range and still managed to miss the nearest soldier. The return fire struck him in the chest, but not before he managed to kill one of the guards holding back Olik. The half-naked and bloodied figure lifted his arms to the ceiling and roared with delight.

  "Yes!"

  Now freed of his tormentor, he grabbed a second and twisted his neck a full ninety degrees before depositing him on top of another. Some of the others broken ranks, and that gave Olik the chance he'd been waiting for.

  "My turn!"

  A bullet punched into his leg, and he howled before striking the soldier in the chest. The impact hit with a meaty blow that bent the plating and shattered bone. The wounded soldier stumbled back, but Olik was having none of it. His wounds from the Siege of Melantias still sent pain through his body, and he channelled that into rage. It took just two steps to reach the soldier, even as another stabbed at him with a bayoneted rifle.

  "Olik, get back!" Knaro yelled.

  Olik ignored the shout and grabbed the enemy soldier around the waist. He tried to fight back, but Olik lifted him up and smashed his head into the rough ceiling. The jagged, angular section of masonry crushed the top of the soldier's helmet with a sickening crunch.

  "Not yet," said Olik.

  He lifted the shaking body of the soldier to the ceiling once more, and this time thrust him against the rock so hard the helmet split apart, allowing the weak flesh of the soldier's head to shatter against the stonework. The body dropped to the ground in a sickening display of ruptured flesh and broken skull.

  "Next!"

  Two soldiers ran at Olik, and the first charged into his outstretched fist. With his arm locked, the impact hit the poor soul with the power of a freight train, breaking the soldier's neck in that single motion. Another body fell to the ground. That was enough to send a cry through the soldiers of the Star Empire. The squad soon crumbled, but as Knaro rushed in among them, the remnants of his own militias merged and routed the enemy. In seconds, they were dead, and two of their wounded lay down their arms.

  Olik reached out with his right hand to tap Commander Knaro on the shoulder. He nodded in appreciation, but the movement strained his upper body. He groaned, instinctively moving his left hand to one of many torso wounds he'd sustained both now, and in the past few months. Knaro stepped closer, but Olik looked back into the tunnel to where a small group continued to fight. He took a step, and then stopped, a great smile forming on his face.

  "Spartan!"

  * * *

  Decanus Seanoi swung his blade again, and this time Spartan cut up from his left side to deflect it. The tough exterior of his carbine took the brunt of the impact, but not without ripping off half the sighting mechanism. The soldier twisted his wrist and brought the blade back down from the other side in a fast cut, slashing into Spartan's left arm. White sparks marked the impact and for a moment, the two became locked together.

  "I'm...getting...tired of this!"

  Spartan leaned in and headbutted the officer hard in the faceplate. The impact was heavy enough to knock out a man cold, yet this soldier staggered backwards and managed to stay upright. He raised his pistol, pointing the barrel at Spartan's head.

  "Go on!" Spartan yelled, "If you're gonna do it, just pull the damned trigger!"

  A dark shape emerged from behind them both, with a pair of Star Empire soldiers fleeing for their lives. Decanus Seanoi made the mistake of looking over his shoulder to find the great, bleeding hulk of Olik coming right at him. He twisted around to defend himself, but Spartan was already on him. Before he could even move his finger to the trigger, it was too late. Spartan locked an arm around his neck, and Olik struck the pistol, sending it flying through the air. With the second arm, he grabbed the officer around the stomach and began to squeeze. Spartan released his grip on the officer who slumped forward unconscious.

  "Stop," said Spartan.

  Olik looked to his friend, his chest heaving, and bloody dripping from his nose.

  "Why?"

  Spartan deactivated his visor and revealed a sweat-covered face. Even his thin beard glistened with the moisture.

  "He's an officer. He could be useful."

  Spartan then winked with one eye and nodded to Olik.

  "What about you? All unhurt?"

  Olik shrugged. "I'll live."

  He pointed back into the tunnel.

  "Tyler is back there, under sedation. We had a Helion with us, but she died in the crossfire."

  Spartan looked disappointed, but Commander Knaro moved to Olik's flank. The alien sound was strange underground, and Spartan's eye widened as he waited for the translators.

  "Spartan, we have what we came for. We need to get back and prepare."

&nbs
p; Olik tapped Spartan. "Prepare for what?"

  Spartan grimaced.

  "Olik, it's time to batten down the hatches and wait. They've taken control of three Northern precincts, and now they're sending in hunter killer teams to try and flush us out. We've held them off for a month, but we can't keep this up forever."

  Olik didn't seem particularly perturbed.

  "You have a plan, though, right? We can't just hunker down here and wait. It's not like we have help coming."

  Spartan's expression changed, and right away Olik understood something was going on.

  "What? Who?"

  Khan was there, and he pointed to the ceiling while beaming with a wide grin.

  "We got a signal out to Gun. Spartan sent the signal."

  Olik's brow tightened further.

  "The signal. The signal?"

  Khan laughed.

  "Yeah, he sent the signal all right, the broken arrow signal."

  Commander Knaro listened to all of this with interest. When he spoke up, all of them looked to him.

  "We've requested a full-scale intervention from your facility. Spartan says that this Gun character, he will come to our aid."

  Olik smiled, instantly reassuring the Byotai commander. He reached out and slapped the unfortunate alien in the middle of the back.

  "Well, then..."

  His eyes met Khan's, and in that moment he knew nothing had been agreed. He had no doubt a message had been sent. But there was a galaxy wide difference between sending a message, and seeing the arrival of a fleet. The Byotai needed to be reassured, though, and Olik, even in his weakened state could see that.

  "Gun is god among us. If he's been contacted, then he will come. I almost feel pity for our enemies."

  Khan gave his friend a clear and subtle nod of acknowledgement. Spartan handed Olik a Thumper and then pointed back into the tunnels. Other members of the small rescue party were already stripping weapons and armour from the enemy dead, the equipment of the regular soldiers being something of a prized possession.