Star Crusades Nexus: The Second Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “I’m surprised you didn’t use the clout your father has to go directly into the Corps as an officer. Why start as a grunt? No offense.”

  Jack had been asked this question so many times in the past that it was starting to become old habit. His father was something of a celebrity in the civilian world, but for the military there were fewer men or women alive that had the recognition factor as his father. He had never come across a person in the Corps that didn’t have something to say about him, and it wasn’t always good.

  “My father…he was good at fighting but not so good at making friends higher up. He was barred from promotion. That’s why he started APS Corporation. It was a good company, well, before it collapsed it was.”

  They were now just moving around the corner to the command center. There were more guards outside the larger structure next door, but it was all part of the classic ruse to protect their commanders. Only those that needed to know had any idea what the larger building was for, but Jack had worked it out quickly from the trails nearby. The marks were similar to those near other automated construction sites he’d seen before. It was the original control hub for the drones that built the base.

  “What happened?” asked Callahan.

  “With what?”

  “APS Corp.”

  “Uh...” Jack started, but they were now just a few meters away. “The private security market collapsed, and APS died with it. We had to find new work where we could.”

  The airlock hissed open, and all four walked inside the prefabricated building. Three steps led down into the basin the structure had been built over. From the outside it looked modest, but in reality, there was more below the surface than above it. They went through the second and final airlock section and emerged inside the main control room. A pair of Marine guards waited motionless at each side of the airlock.

  Lieutenant Elvidge came through last, noticing that Jack walked with almost a swagger to his body. It reminded him about what he’d said about his family’s company. APS Corp was a well-known entity in the Alliance and had been involved in dozens of high profile security operations, hostage rescues, and military support missions in the past. It left him with more questions about Jack than answers, especially as to how his family had managed to squander the obviously massive benefits to running such a profitable enterprise.

  It doesn’t make sense.

  The sound of voices turned his attention to the interior where he could see a number of officers, as well as one giant and fully armored Jötnar. He had seen them before but not often, and like most citizens, found the sight of the creatures to be rather unsettling. The images of the Biomechs and their warriors in the Uprising were still commonplace on the worlds of the Alliance, and many of the public was still wary of such beasts being given free rein. He had no thoughts either way, but as the warrior turned, spotted the group, and then stared directly at him, he found his gut reaction was one of suspicion. Without thinking, he reached for the pistol on his belt at the sight of such a monstrous creature, but he was too slow, and he lurched toward them. He grabbed for his sidearm and took one step back.

  “Jack!” he cried.

  He might have been expecting trouble, but instead Jack barged toward the Jötnar. The two crashed together, and the Jötnar smashed his fist down onto the young man’s shoulder while shouting out. Riku reached out and pushed down the pistol in the Lieutenant’s hands.

  “No,” she said.

  Elvidge looked at her and was shocked to see her laughing.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Like most Alliance planets, the world’s defenses were based upon the fleet. There were no great stations or orbital platforms on this world, just a single docking platform that could handle the loading and departure of two or three ships at a time. The surface was another matter, and only a fool would ever consider attacking the place while occupied and protected by the fiercest citizens of the Alliance, the Jötnar.

  The downfall of Hyperion

  The battle for Eos began with a massive bombardment from every ship in the Alliance fleet. The particle beam emitters on the front of the newest ships fired invisibly through space, and massed volleys of railguns fired clouds of solid shells toward the approaching ships. Even ANS Royal Oak, the Alliance carrier and newest capital ship in the fleet, loosed of thirty torpedoes from her spacious ordnance mounts. Only the newest frigates and this carrier had been modified to carry these new weapons. Although slower than the primary weapons of the other ships, the torpedoes were able to change their course and could operate autonomously.

  Approaching this veritable cloud of weaponry came the fleet of machines, known only by their nickname of Biomechs. The thirty large manta ray-like ships moved in a wide, loose formation; the smaller craft followed a short distance behind. Their course shifted slightly as they moved closer to Eos, but it wasn’t enough of a change to allow them to bypass the waiting ships. The particle beams struck first, invisible blasts of energy that blew holes in the lead ships. One of the manta ray vessels lost half of its port wing section, yet not one of the vessels responded. Flashes of energy rippled through the fleet as one ship after another took damage from the invisible beams. As dust and debris began to scatter, the light from the weapons began to show up as a faint wisp on the particles.

  Admiral Lewis watched the assault from within the CIC of ANS Conqueror, and the feeling of nausea was hard to ignore. The distance had already halved, and still the Biomechs came on. Every member of the crew was busy organizing the sections of the ship while the marines watched and waited.

  “What is their status?” he asked his tactical officer, as a second volley of gunfire hurtled out toward the ships.

  “I am showing good hits on the five lead Mantas. They are four minutes away from us.”

  Admiral Lewis allowed himself a quiet chortle at the name, even in the midst of such carnage. They had no idea of the capabilities of these ships, let alone what class they were or what the enemy called them. All they knew was the size and shape, hence the temporary name assigned to them by his own crew.

  As for the closing speed, it was clear the Biomech fleet was planning on smashing its way through his forces and then on to the moon that lay behind them. That last thought had a sobering effect on him, so he turned his attention to the large mainscreen showing the view toward the enemy fleet. Most of the ships were too small to be seen, but the Mantas at the front appeared substantial. He could see the flicker of blue light along their structures, as the beams from the Alliance ships exploded sections the size of frigates from their hulls. Finally, one on the left side of the formation flashed once and broke apart. The officers in the CIC broke out in applause and excitement at the sight of the ship’s destruction. The tactical officer seemed less excited.

  “What is it?”

  The man turned his head briefly.

  “Admiral, they are powering up their systems. I think they’re about to fire.”

  The words were expected, yet the memories of what happened in these battles had never sat particularly comfortably with him. He connected to the fleet instantly via the battle communication network.

  “All ships, prepare to receive fire.”

  His words must have arrived just seconds before one of the skirmish line of frigates vanished in a cloud of dust and fragments. The cheering aboard the ship stopped immediately, to be replaced by anger and fear.

  “What just happened?”

  The view on the mainscreen changed to show the shattered remnants of the frigate. Admiral Lewis had never seen anything like it. There was no sign of the ship, just pieces of metal no larger than a meter in length.

  “Admiral, my sensors show a feedback loop on their ships and an energy signature similar to that of our own ships. They are using the same weapons as us, but according to my data, they are putting out almost twice the energy.”

  His heart felt dulled and heavy. He shouldn’t have expected it to be any different. The particle weapons had only been perfect
ed after making use of technology seized from the Echidna Union in the Uprising. Nobody had known where the rebels had obtained such advanced and formidable weaponry, and it had always been assumed they had been given the information from an unknown third party.

  “Another energy surge, they’re firing again.”

  The Admiral watched the mainscreen, looking for signs of which ship they were targeting.

  “Keep firing; don’t stop until every one of their ships has been destroyed.”

  The words might have made him feel better, but even as the guns of the fleet continued their bombardment, another of his frigates vanished in a blue blast of energy.

  “I have their targeting plan, Admiral. It is essentially the same approach we found with the automated fleet.”

  Hardly surprising, is it?

  “They are focusing their fire on a single ship at a time?”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “I see. Well, it increases their chances, destroying one ship at a time, but it does give us the opportunity to strike at the rest of their fleet unmolested.”

  He thought about this for a moment. After the last engagement there had been many attempts at solving the problem of the tactic of selective targeting and focused fire. In the end, no perfect solution had been found, but there were a number of interesting proposals. He recalled the most important of them all, to reduce the effectiveness of the weapons as quickly as possible. As he considered his tactics, the Biomech fleet reached within sixty seconds of the remaining frigate skirmish line. It was, of course, a nonsense description for a small group of ships spaced so far apart. Even so, each of them was perfectly capable of tackling the expected waves of incoming missiles or projectiles, just not the focused use of particle beams. He hit a button and connected directly to the CIC of ANS Royal Oak.

  “Captain Harper,” came back the immediate reply from the ship’s CAG.

  “I have new targets and objectives for your squadrons.”

  “Understood, Admiral. They’ve just arrived.”

  He paused for a moment as he checked.

  “You want the fighters to target the enemy weapon systems rather than attempt to cripple the ships?”

  “That’s right, Captain.”

  “Understood, Admiral.”

  He placed the intercom back on its cradle and noticed his XO looking at him.

  “We remove their guns, and then let our capital ships finish them off?”

  Admiral Lewis nodded in agreement.

  “Exactly, particle beam emitters are fragile things. Remove them, and we can start taking their fleet apart.”

  * * *

  The red nosed fighters accelerated to their maximum combat speed and set a direct course for the nearest of the Biomech warships. Super-hot flames roared silently from their twin engines in the coldness of space. Behind them waited the fleet and the dull orb that was the moon of Eos.

  Here we go.

  Captain Jim ‘The Hammer’ Evans checked his weapons load one last time. His Lightning fighter was the lead ship in a large ten-fighter formation that had moved into a flanking position to strike down hard on the enemy fleet. These were the fastest and most agile manned fighter in the Alliance arsenal. Behind then followed two groups of five Thunderbolt heavy fighters and a single Marine Corps Mauler. It was a formidable formation with a mixture of cannon, torpedoes, and missiles available and capable of damaging or destroying several major ships.

  “Watch the flak!” he said automatically, without even thinking.

  Though the primary guns on the Manta warships were invisible to all but the sensors on the craft themselves, the fighter defenses were nothing as advanced. Even at a range of three hundred kilometers, the ships started to unleash hundreds of kinetic rounds toward the fighters. Some were solid, but the major exploded nearby and sent fragments of shattered metal toward their targets. One piece struck his port wingtip and tore a chunk of metal away the size of his hand.

  Close, and it’s gonna get a lot worse!

  He had already selected his initial target when the new orders came in. His helmet-mounted display showed the pre-selected threats, all of which were the newly designated Manta class warships.

  “So, they want the guns down first. We can do that.”

  He checked the tactical display to ensure all the other craft were still in formation. They were getting close, but he didn’t want to fire their missiles too far away. Although deadly accurate, the guided munitions were easy to track and destroy with conventional guns. The closer they could make it, the better chance they would have at causing damage to their targets.

  “Red One, we have bogies on your vector. Check your scanners.”

  Captain Evans acknowledged the message and checked his sensors. Nothing had been picked up so far on the radar, and the passive thermal sensors had found nothing either. He reverted to the ancient art of using his eyes to watch space around him and was instantly rewarded by the line of fighters.

  “Red Wing, Green Wing, we have incoming. Check your targets...bring them down!”

  The group of almost jet-black fighters approached at surprising speed. They were half the size of the Alliance fighters and shaped like small baths with large round engines fitted to the center that made up nearly half the total mass. A pair of light guns was built into the stubby wings, giving them similar firepower to the Lightning fighters. The radio comms filled with chatter as the two groups of fighters moved ever closer. Missiles streaked away from the fighters while the guns of the approaching black fighters opened up. The almost invisible kinetic slugs ripped through the fighter formation and claimed two Lightning fighters, tearing them apart in a terrible cloud of wrecked metal.

  “Lightnings clear the fighters. Everybody else follow the set coordinates. The Admiral needs those particle weapons removed. Do your jobs, people!”

  The battle turned into a mess as the fighters intermingled, and as had happened for centuries, a bloody dogfight ensued. The Alliance fighters were more heavily armored, yet the Biomech fighters were agile and equipped with a battery of rapid-fire guns. The battle raged while the two Thunderbolt squadrons smashed through the battle and rushed at two of the Manta warships. Streams of slugs ripped into them, but none were damaged sufficiently to force them back from what needed to be done. All ten released their missiles and then broke away to find their next target.

  “Good work, people, now onto the next two,” said Captain Evans.

  Though he was busily engaged in a deadly dogfight, he was still able to maintain control of the space battle. Dozens of warships filled the view from his cockpit as the Manta ships and Alliance heavy cruisers closed to a distance of less than a hundred kilometers. Back on Earth this would have been long range for warships, but in space it was point blank range. Explosions and flashes occurred everywhere now as the ships pounded each other with every weapon they had available.

  “Watch your flank, Red One,” said his wingman before his fighter vanished in a fireball.

  Captain Evans checked his visor overlay that showed targets in almost every direction. What concerned him most was that his wingman had been vaporized, and there were now two Biomech fighters on his tail.

  “Time to spin the bottle,” he laughed nervously.

  With a deft tap, he activated one of his preset maneuvers. It was nothing particularly fancy and just a one hundred and eighty degree spin while maintaining acceleration, but using his forward facing braking thrusters as temporary primary engines. Now facing backward, he tagged the two fighters and then pulled the trigger. The nose-mounted cannon blasted the two enemy craft in seconds. Then a quick tap, and he continued on the same path but facing the forward direction.

  Okay, how about the rest of them?

  A quick check showed two more casualties, and from what he could see, the Biomech fleet had now slowed or changed course. The missiles from the first wave were rushing in to the selected target, but he didn’t have time to watch them. Instead, he sent the waypoints
to the rest of his fighters. He needed them to continue to the next pair of ships so they could finish their attack run. That was when he spotted the Marine Mauler in trouble.

  “MM3, what’s your status?” he asked.

  The fighters had reformed; the surviving Lightnings taking up formation around the eight remaining Thunderbolts. The nearest craft showed black scorch marks where they had come dangerously close to weapons fire. The Mauler had moved on ahead and was halfway between them and the next two ships.

  “Lost one engine, three dead, and we have wounded.”

  Captain Evans swallowed, his throat dry with the tension. The Mauler wasn’t supposed to be used in this way. It was heavily armored and hard to destroy, but it was a lander, not a fighter. Even so, it was his job to attack the enemy ships. He could dwell on this in his own time.

  “What about your weapons?”

  There was a short pause before the Mauler’s pilot replied. His voice was strained, and Captain Evans wondered if he’d also been wounded in the attack.

  “One turret out of commission. Torpedoes intact, we’re not out of the fight yet, Captain.”

  He allowed himself a short smile.

  “Good work, Lieutenant. We’ll watch you in from here.”

  The fighters moved in around the Mauler, the heavy Thunderbolt fighter-bombers behind, and the escort Lightning fighters in a loose cloud about it. As they moved in closer, he could see dozens of bullet holes on the thick armor plating of the craft. All four of the engines were intact, and the multiple gun turrets fired almost continually as a flight of Biomech fighters moved to intercept.

  “All fighters, the release window is twenty seconds away. Hold your course.”