“Well, they set off the bomb because they were able to activate a trigger. Why not eliminate that ability?”
Frewyn, the oldest of the group shook his head. He was stoutly built and spoke with a common accent that gave the impression he was far less intelligent than he actually was.
“How exactly would we do that?”
Jack swallowed another piece of lamb and then spoke.
“Gas or a stunner of some kind.”
Private Riku laughed at this idea. Of all those, seated she was the most unusual looking. Tall and attractive, she could easily have been a model if it hadn’t been for a hideous scar that ran down her face. There was something else that in Jack’s opinion made her probably the ugliest woman he’d met; it was her miserable fixed expression.
“You have one of those lying about, Private?”
“You’re such an asshat,” said Private Jenkell.
The young woman took another mouthful of her lunch and laughed at the taller and more attractive woman. Several of the others sniggered at her insult, and it was clear that Riku had few real friends in the unit.
Jack looked at Private Riku with the same kind of irritation Private Jenkell had and shook his head with a look of disinterest. Once more Private Riku displayed a look that bordered on contempt of him. Wictred had told him it was how he imagined a woman chewing a wasp would look like. Jack smiled as he thought of that, and then spotted her watching him. He lifted an eyebrow, and she scowled in return.
Would it kill her to smile? Maybe.
Jack recalled the last three conversations he’d had with her, and they'd always ended up the same. No matter the subject, it reverted to her, as if she always had an experience that trumped the rest. She loved complements and seemed to ask questions and make comments designed to make people feel obliged to add something nice about her. Amusingly, this never appeared to work. It seemed to encourage bitterness amongst the rest of the marines with almost every word that came out of her mouth, and that encouraged her to try even harder.
“Good attitude, Private Riku. What would you do then? Oh, I remember, you waited at the back.”
She scowled at him, and he nodded as if thanking her for some kind of concealed complement.
“You’re most welcome,” he added, much to her annoyance.
A tall, wide man, looking more like a wrestler than a marine, scratched at his nose before speaking. His face had been burned badly in the past, and he had a number of marks and scarring running from his left ear down to his chin. His lip was slightly squashed and of them all, he looked as though he’d been in a number of fights.
“You have an idea, Corporal?” Wictred asked.
The big man nodded.
“Yeah, we have a few options if we don’t want to lose people. What if we take in a hostage of our own and send them in, right in front of them and in plain view.”
“Nice,” announced Jack at the idea.
“Good idea, Callahan,” said Wictred, “So either we use a form of nerve agent to incapacitate the target, or we use a decoy of our own. Those are both options that could save marines.”
“There is one more,” said Jack.
Private Riku shook her head as he spoke.
“We could make sure we kill them all this time.”
* * *
Spartan and Khan clung to the interior of the bomb bay fitted to the bulbous flank of the aged bomber, as it continued on its course toward the increasingly large shape of the space station. By all accounts, it was larger than any ship either of them had ever seen. Spartan guessed it must be around fifty percent larger than a Confederate battleship from the previous war. The station moved off to the right and then vanished from view for a moment.
Hold on, whatever you do.
Both of them were attached via improvised harnesses they had taken from the small crew area in the middle of the bomber. Without it, they would have been thrown about as the craft moved. They had set the spacecraft on a spinning course that while slow in its rotation, still gave the impression the craft was out of control; either because of internal damage or more likely the crew had been incapacitated. Although the bomb bay was sealed, it lacked heating or an independent air supply. Spartan was okay, as he had been able to fit inside one of the crew’s emergency space suits. Khan, on the other hand, was forced to use one of the spare oxygen units and helmet; the rest of his body would have to manage as it was. Spartan just hoped the doors would stay closed and sealed because exposure outside of the spacecraft would kill Khan in less than a minute.
“Spartan, you think this will work?” asked Khan. His voice rasped from inside the mask, and Spartan could tell he was already feeling the cold. It was probably the tenth time his old friend had asked the same question, and once more he was forced to encourage him.
“Of course, when do my plans not work?”
Khan sniggered to himself, both of them were well aware that Spartan’s plans were far from perfect. In Khan’s experience, they always required a little extra muscle to make them work. He looked up and at the side of the space station as once more they spun about to face it.
“What’s stopping them from seeing us?”
It was a good question, but Spartan had thought of that already.
“Look, we’re next to the damaged bomb mount. There are fuel leaks and electrical damage all around here. Unless they examine this section with advanced scanners, they’ll miss us. Anyway, why bother looking?”
It was true. With the spacecraft drifting through space, it presented no great problem and could easily be left alone to continue its path out into the black void of space. On its current trajectory, it would pass right between the Rift and the station. The bomb bay was completely sealed from the exterior of the ship until opened to give access to its internal bays. There were four small windows, each no bigger than a man’s hand, at the far end to give engineers visual access for loading and maintenance. It wasn’t much but enough to allow them a good view out of the spacecraft and toward the station. It was when Khan was looking through the nearest window that he spotted it.
“Spartan, look.”
He nodded to his left and kept his movement to a minimum. It wasn’t that he was clinging to the outside of the bomber, but he was familiar enough with the various scanners onboard Alliance vessels to know they could detect heat changes, and that could easily be taken for movement.
“What is it?” Spartan asked, moving to the window and looking out.
He could see the shape of the Biomech transport ship as it moved toward them. It immediately filled him with dread. It was larger than the bomber, but nothing the size of the cruiser that had been pursuing them. There were two small drones attached to its dorsal armor, neither had been detached. Instead, it moved into position underneath them and then even closer.
“See, I said it would work,” Spartan said.
Khan smiled inwardly but could sense the relief in this friend’s voice. The vessel took nearly five minutes to finish moving into position and matched their rotation before it connected using some form of grav clamp. Once joined, they could feel a slight jolt as the ship’s engines activated, and their course was corrected. Another minute later, and they were heading directly for the station, the cruiser waiting not far from where it must have released its spacecraft. It took them to the right of the station where three docking mounts were located. As they approached, the two were able to get a good look at the exterior of the metallic construction.
“Seen anything like this before?”
Spartan moved his head slowly.
“Nope, this isn’t ours, and it doesn’t look like the gear the T’Kari use either.”
“Biomech?”
Spartan tried to shrug but found it hard to move the muscles while also trying to be as quiet and still as possible. There were no windows on the outer parts of the structure, but as with most stations, there were a large number of antenna and communication masts that extended in almost every single direc
tion. Spartan looked at the individual details but finally concentrated his attention on one small part near the airlock. It looked like a spider but on closer examination was a dry dock. Underneath it were three large buildings, each almost big enough to house one of the new Alliance frigates. There were also a dozen gantries and sat atop them were Biomech drone fighters, much like the ones that had attacked them during their escape.
“Yeah, that sells it.”
Khan looked in the same direction and recognized the shape of a Biomech ship, like they’d seen while on board the T’Kari Raider many months earlier. Every second brought them closer, and the size of the ship increased until they could appreciate the scale.
“It’s got to be one of those carriers,” Khan said.
The shape was certainly familiar, but this wasn’t as big as the mighty cruiser class ships they had seen before. These were something closer to the smaller escorts and scouting ships used by the military. Along the side of the hull were markings and a black shape of some kind of snake beast. Spartan sighed at the sight of the shape.
“Echidna.”
He looked irritated but not surprised.
“Man, why can we never shake these guys? We keep finding them.”
Khan looked at it for a second and started to speak while watching the ship.
“At least that tells us who they are. This must mean we’re at a Biomech outpost.”
Spartan took several short gulps of air and felt an immediate rush of cold oxygen in his chest. It felt like heartburn, but he ignored it, knowing very well his friend was in far more discomfort than him.
“Even so, this is hardly well protected. What do we have? One Rift, a control station, and a shipyard with a couple of ships and a dozen drones. Hell, I’d say this is a way station for long-range ships.”
“Maybe,” replied Khan. His voiced lacked conviction.
It was another thirty minutes before they reached the docking mount. They drifted into position, and the bomber shuddered as they were locked into place. At this range, they could make out every single detail, and the more they looked, the more alien the place appeared. The base was static, and on the way the spacecraft interacted there was no form of artificial gravity. As they waited, Khan spotted movement.
“There,” he said, pointing with his forehead.
The shape of a large Biomech machine appeared, its body completely exposed to the elements. It moved slowly with one foot connecting securely before it moved the other. It seemed nervous, or perhaps it was just taking its time.
“One of our metal friends?” asked Spartan.
They both watched the thing with barely concealed bitterness. Khan clenched his fists, and Spartan could see his friend’s muscles contracting as he squeezed the straps. Khan was angry, very angry. Spartan extended his one good arm and placed his gloved hand on Khan’s shoulder.
“Easy friend, I know. We’ll have our revenge. I promise you.”
The machine looked like one of the incredibly rare Biomechs. Not one of the artificial monsters they had fought on a dozen worlds, or even the completely synthetic warriors like Khan that had been built as frontline soldiers for the War. No, these were the machines with biological minds, the leadership caste of the entire race they knew simply as the Biomechs. This one looked just like those that were responsible for their interrogation and torture for so many months. It appeared to be smaller, and its metal outer housing was in a poor state. The black paint had been rubbed or worn down so much there was more bare metal than paint remaining. It was bipedal and appeared to be a rough match for Khan in terms of height and girth. Its head was sunk down low and looked more like a beetle than a machine. It moved toward the spacecraft and waited like a statue just five meters from its side.
“What do we do now?” asked Khan.
He looked to Spartan and could just make out the wide smile on his friend’s face through the armored visor. The chill was now spreading through his body, and he was starting to wonder if he could still move his legs. The bomber shook and then moved toward the large metal structure ahead of them. When they were halfway there, the doors opened and revealed a dark interior.
“When we get inside, we’ll get out of here.”
Khan winced. “And then?”
Spartan pointed at the Biomech craft lined up inside the structure.
“We’ll find a way out of this place, I promise you. Maybe we’ll take a few of those bastards with us.”
He beckoned with his hand, and his thumb extended out to the machine.
“And I think he should go for starters.”
Khan nodded but was forced to hide a rough cough before answering.
“He will do…for now.”
Spartan looked away from Khan and smiled.
Don’t you worry; we’re getting out of here and back home. We’re going to get our friends, the fleet, and the Corps, and we’ll grind these animals until there’s nothing left but ash and waste.
CHAPTER FOUR
By electing to involve itself in affairs outside of Alpha Centauri, humanity exposed itself to great risk. New species, empires, and technologies would come to the forefront, as well as the rumors of the Enemy long thought defeated. There were positives for the Alliance, however, not least the benefits that come from the meeting of different peoples, including trade and science. Ultimately, without the contact with other people, the Alliance would have been completely unprepared for the realization of the Helions’ ancient prophecy, one that would affect the worlds of the Alliance, no matter what decisions were made.
The Unforeseen Consequences
The Narau fleet had lost a quarter of its number in the ambush laid by the Biomech warship and its allied Anicinàbe cruisers. The timing had been perfect, as had their positioning. By waiting at that point in space, the ships hadn’t been detected until the Narau fleet was already moving too fast. Only a few ships had been destroyed, the others had either scattered and vanished or surrendered rather than face destruction. Of those that remained, the Alliance frigates were the most prominent. Moving in a wide formation at the rear, they used their large numbers of automated turrets to shred any Biomech fighters in pursuit. Unlike the ships from the other Powers, the Alliance ships were heavily equipped with defensive firepower, a valuable lesson learned in the violent battles of the Great Uprising where human fought human in bloody civil war.
The scene inside the Khreenk flagship was very different to how it would have been without human intervention. Instead of panic and confusion, the crew had been given implicit instructions and was making substantial progress in avoiding a direct and bloody confrontation with the Enemy; a confrontation that they would be unlikely to win.
“Admiral, a group of their ships has changed their course. They must know our plan,” said Captain Campbell.
Unlike before, the Khreenk Admiral immediately listened to the advice of the young Alliance Captain. In the last few hours, the low-ranking Alliance officer had saved a dozen of the Narau ships, and he seemed happy to accept any more advice from him, even to the annoyance of his own officers. Now the Captain stood alongside the Admiral at the heart of the ship. He looked at the data carefully.
“They are accelerating at speeds we cannot match; no living crew is capable of withstanding those levels of acceleration for more than a few minutes.”
Captain Campbell smiled grimly; it was clear to him what was happening. He knew enough about ship design, physics, and directional vectors to see it.
It’s Biomechs all right.
With massive computerization and minimal crew, there was a good chance this warship was actually completely devoid of life. That meant the Enemy would be ruthless, fast, and very quick to make decisions. Those were all advantages, but ones that humans had beaten in the past. What really interested him though were the other ships. The Biomechs were a flexible race and usually made use of others to fight their battles. Either through or coercion, the Biomechs had encouraged these Anicinàbe to help them.
Based on the speed of the larger vessel, it was no surprise to him that the Allied ships were unable to match the pace of the larger vessel.
“Yes, they will reach the dead zone at the Rift before us. What do you suggest?” asked the Admiral.
“She’s automated, just look at the acceleration. None of our ships can come even close to that. We’re pushing just over our safe limit, and this ship is moving at triple our maximum speed. Either that or it just has Biomech warriors for crew.”
The Admiral nodded in agreement but still didn’t quite understand how this would help them in their battle. He said nothing for a moment, and Captain Campbell was forced to repeat himself before even receiving an acknowledgement. It was clear the Admiral had never faced a situation like this, and Campbell was starting to wonder if he’d ever actually even been in a battle before. That then reminded him that, of course, neither had he, apart from skirmishes with black marketers and pirates out on the Rim.
“How does this help?” asked the Admiral after what must have been nearly thirty seconds thinking.
Campbell lifted his datapad and held it in front of the Khreenk commander. It showed a detailed schematic of the large Biomech warship. Unlike the Anicinàbe, this vessel was ugly and covered in multiple layers of armor, making it look more like a giant slug than the beautiful aesthetics used by the others. Red and green circles pointed out potential weapon locations as well as exit tubes for spacecraft.
“It means they will be faster and more powerful than anything we have here. The single advantage we have is manpower, and that is useless in a space battle, especially one where they may not have living crew.”
“So we use our numbers, firepower, and maneuver to beat them.”
Captain Campbell half nodded in agreement. It was far from the ideal solution for such a major threat. He was acutely aware he could only push so far before his suggestion would be construed as an affront to the alien’s ability to lead the fleet. That could be very dangerous for the operation.
Star Crusades Nexus: The Second Trilogy Page 6