Star Crusades Nexus: Book 06 - Call to Arms
Page 1
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CALL TO ARMS
STAR CRUSADES NEXUS, BOOK 6
By Michael G. Thomas
Part of the STAR CRUSADES series
First Edition
Copyright © 2013 Michael G. Thomas
Published by Swordworks Books
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www.starcrusader.com
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
CHAPTER ONE
Private space travel increased in popularity wherever money was there to be made. The new colonies of the Alliance were filled with haulers, mining ships, and traders, but the old worlds of Sol were another matter. Cut off by long journeys and slow communications, the old colonies of Sol developed at a different rate. Even when the Rift brought them into the great Alliance family, their small populations, poor living conditions, and a general distrust of outsiders put them at a great disadvantage. Private enterprise had stagnated and suffered over the decades so much that it fell to a state controlled monopoly to create a workable transport network between Earth, Mars, and the moons of Sol.
Origins of Private Space Travel
Eos was a miserable place, a relatively barren rock with little strategic value to the Alliance. As Wictred stretched his left leg, he thought back to his time on Hyperion and realized he actually missed the place. Where Eos was barren with just a smattering of industrial bases on its surface, Hyperion was a lush forest world filled with the surviving Biomech monsters that his kin so loved to hunt. Hyperion was in many ways a more dangerous place, yet he would rather be there with blades and firearms than on this dust bowl.
I can’t even remember the smell of Hyperion.
Wictred checked the radiation markers on his overlay display. The centigray scale had dropped right down to the average for the moon, and even he had been surprised at how quickly it had died down. In the first hours after the bombardment, the sensors had peaked at levels that would kill a man outright. He was just thankful they’d been able to shelter deep enough underground as the radioactive clouds spread. Even though it showed the area was safe, he still checked it again before activating the visor mount on the armored helmet. It was actually all part of the same unit, and it hissed open to let the cool air enter his system. Even as the air mingled with the stagnant air that had been in his armor, he still checked, ever paranoid of the threat of radiation.
Still at safe levels, good.
The visor made a grinding sound where dust had built up around the moving parts until it was completely open. Wictred closed his eyes and took in a long, slow breath. The ventilation unit built into all of their armor versions still took in air from the outside and ran it through a number of rigorous scrubbers. Nonetheless, there was little right now that was better than the feeling of fresh air on his face. He lifted up his left arm and pulled on the levers to open up access to his arm so that he could wipe the sweat from his face.
“Corporal Wictred, I’ve got the Alliance broadcast. It’s different his time. I think it’s the General.”
Wictred found a mixture of blood and sweat that had stuck to his bruised hand, and he flicked his hand before reactivating the armor that protected his limb. The radiation levels might be safe, but there was still the chance of coming upon contaminated material. He had no intention of dying to radiation exposure. He would die as he’d always intended, with his hands around an enemy’s throat, and he really didn’t care which enemy, right now.
“Turn it up.”
The marine had positioned the deep-space receiver on the ground and tapped the keyboard to alter the settings. It took a few seconds for the system to catch up with the data. At first it was garbled, but after just a few more seconds, the decryption software had done its work, and the noise turned into familiar voices.
“Gun,” said Wictred happily.
“...priority is to stay hidden and await help from the NHA. They have been notified of your positions.”
“The NHA?” said one of the marines further inside the cave.
“Are you frigging kidding me?”
The marine began to break out in a laugh that quickly turned to something bordering on the hysterical.
“Come on, they are no army. You heard the reports from Fort Macquarie. When the Biomech landers came in, they just bugged out. We can’t count on ‘em.”
From his position at the edge of the cave, Wictred had a good view of the ground around them. Although he was desperate to hear something useful from the receiver, he had already resigned himself to a bloodbath on Eos. He scanned with his eyes back and forth as he listened, ever watchful for signs of the enemy, or the even less likely help from the NHA. The news from the fleet wasn’t particularly positive.
“Alliance is mobilizing...Helios is preparing for a massive assault...War has come to the...”
All of the words coming from Gun told him one simple truth; the Alliance had left them there. If they were going to get out alive, it would be up to them and them alone. If the fleet had left, it could only be for one of two reasons; either they’d been forced to leave because they were needed elsewhere, or they had been chased away by superior numbers. Wictred doubted it was the latter. Gun wouldn’t leave them behind.
“It has to be Eos,” he said, more to himself than the others.
“What do you mean?” asked the youngest of the marines.
Lance Corporal James laughed and then answered the other marine.
“What the Corporal means is that the fleet had to leave Eos. You heard the message. The enemy is here, and they are heading for Helios. If they can take the planet, they’ll control the Nexus and access to all the primary Spacebridges.”
He pointed to outside of the cave.
“This is just a moon, one of many under Helion control. They can afford to lose the place, and so can we. We’re marines, and every one of us is expendable.”
Wictred couldn’t argue with that.
“They haven’t abandoned us. They will be back.”
He looked back at the armored figures of his comrades.
“This is a war, and we’ve all trained for this. The fleet has to go where it can do the greatest good. We smashed this assault, and we can survive the Biomechs that remain here.”
He tapped his head.
“If we use our heads.”
It was a calming message but seemed to do the job. Wictred was no officer, but his cool attitude
, coupled with his great size, did its job for now.
“Corporal Wictred. Why can’t we contact them for help?”
As if in reply, the black shape of a Helion fighter screamed past overhead. A trail of black smoke ran from its left wing. Right behind it moved a Helion fighter, its guns blasting away. The two craft vanished as quickly as they had arrived. Wictred pointed at the sky.
“That’s why. We might have wiped out their ground assault and made this moon safe from invasion, but out here away from the towns, they are still here.”
The marines looked at him but none spoke.
“You saw what happened to Theta platoon when they called for assistance. We cannot take the chance until we have numbers and weapons on our side.”
None of them wanted to speak of that, but it was also a memory none of them would be able to shake off. The depleted unit of less than twenty marines had climbed atop one of the highest peaks and called for help on an open frequency. Wictred had heard it but forced those that would listen to stay down. Less than three minutes later, a hunter killer team of three fighters and a small lander swept down and obliterated them.
He indicated for them to approach and bent down to scrape a diagram on the floor.
“You need to remember that the NHA forces here are spread thin. The intel coming in shows they are dealing with the Biomechs, but it’s taking time.”
“Why?” asked one of the marines.
Wictred sighed.
“Eos has a small population and an even smaller military. Most of them are still trying to deal with the Animosh insurgency. We cannot deal with the Biomechs ourselves until significant reinforcements arrive. In the meantime, the reports from the major settlements are that they are digging in until relieved.”
“Yeah, man, the Helions control the towns,” said another.
“And the canners have the desert,” answered the female marine from back in the shadows.
“It’s true,” Wictred agreed. “Until we have air cover and transports, the enemy has the advantage out here.”
Their discussion had given him some ideas, however. He brought up the digital map and the last details for their combat operations. He had the flight plans for the rescued Hammerheads that had never landed, as well as the link up routes they were supposed to take with the NHA. The one thing he’d given no attention to since the attack was the Animosh, the personal security force of the previous regime that was now fighting a guerrilla war against the populist government.
“Wait, I have an idea,” he said.
At first nobody spoke until Lance Corporal James moved closer.
“What is it?”
Wictred looked out to the main ground car route out in the open. There were seven military vehicles, all of them burned out and abandoned. Four had been hit where they waited, but the rest had spread out to avoid further explosions before being knocked out in turn. It was a painful reminder of how badly things had gone for the Alliance, and more specifically, for Wictred.
I hate this place.
He looked back at his comrades and did his best to look confident.
“Our vehicles weren’t destroyed by the Biomechs.”
“No man, that was the rebels.”
“Exactly,” Wictred replied.
The Lance Corporal seemed even more confused.
“What are you getting at?”
Wictred grinned.
“The Animosh are not our friends, that is true. But there is somebody, or more specifically, there is something they hate more than this populist uprising or even us.”
“The Biomechs,” said the Lance Corporal, as though he had just discovered a great secret.
Wictred looked back to the map and checked on the routes used by the insurgents. They certainly knew the area well, and they had been able to strike and escape almost with impunity.
“Very interesting.”
He looked at the rest of his unit, and all of his ideas seemed to fade away. The images of a great union of factions, with Animosh, Helions, and marines fighting side by side now seemed more like a children’s story than an actual possibility. There were just five of them now, and all were wounded to one degree or another. There was more than that though, they were suffering, and he knew it. They had plenty of food and water, but it was the radiation that was causing the biggest problem, and it was an enemy that Wictred had no idea how to fix. It was what frustrated him the most, the fact that he could not simply stand up and strike the enemy; because this time it was an invisible wind that killed his comrades slowly over a matter of hours and days.
Who will go next? he wondered.
He had never liked Helios much, but since the attack, he’d found a completely new level of bitterness towards the place. Unlike his comrades, he’d been taking part in a training exercise with the New Helion Army outside of the main compound when the attack began.
That was a week ago, and now look at us.
“Corporal, look!” said Private Harvey.
The middle-aged man still wore his PDS Alpha Armour, and from the analysis provided by the suit’s computer, he was the only one in his unit that had managed to avoid a fatal dose of radiation immediately after the bombardment. The man had refused to leave his suit for the entire week now, and Wictred wondered quite how he was managing. The man pointed off to the left and Wictred had to strain to see where he had pointed.
“What is it?”
The man continued to point.
“The smoke trails, they stopped just beyond that ridge.”
Wictred spotted a double column of black smoke.
“So?”
“Well, both of them must have crashed.”
“Yes, you are probably right. I don’t see how this is...”
The man pointed again, and this time Wictred spotted the flickering light. He counted the pattern and then shook his head in surprise. He looked back into the tunnel and nodded at the engineer.
“Smyth, up here, fast. Tell me if this is what I think it is.”
The man looked carefully through the enhanced optics of his suit.
“Uh, it’s light bouncing off something on the horizon. Could be machine, I guess.”
Just the mention of the word ‘machine’ sent a hushed chill though the group.
“What’s the plan?” asked the youngest of the marines, interrupting the quiet.
Wictred didn’t even know his name, and after the fighting retreat of the last three days, he really didn’t want to know. Back then they had numbered more than fifty. Now the Captain was gone, along with the last two officers and NCOs. He was it, and he didn’t like it. Like his kin in the Alliance, Wictred wore the latest Jötnar Assault Suit armor that seemed to bulk up his already substantial form considerably. Even though he was smaller than the average, Wictred was still massive compared to a normal marine.
“According to our maps, there is a Helion town seven klicks from here. We should get there and report in to the NHA,” he said, pointing out to the right of where the burned out vehicles sat.
“What about the radiation though, are you sure it’s safe to leave this place?” asked the young marine for what must have been the tenth time.
Wictred opened his helmet visor and spat on the ground.
“How many times must I tell you? Alliance nukes are neutron weapons. They kill fast, and the radiation vanishes in a matter of hours. If you survived the bombardment and the fallout, then you have a chance.”
“Yeah, he’s right,” said the gruff engineer with the dented breastplate.
“The half-life on those things is ridiculously small. They’re designed to clear areas ready for ground assault.”
“How?” asked the young marine.
The engineer shook his head in annoyance.
“Kid, didn’t they teach you anything? Neutron bomb the place and wipe out their ground force ready for assault. Three hours after the attacks, the infantry move in and mop up.”
Wictred nodded as the man spoke.
It was of little comfort to the others though, especially the two marines whose armour had been penetrated during the bombardment. Wictred could see the woman, a young private who’d been hit four times in the chest. Incredibly, the armor had saved her life, but it had broken the external seals and let in clouds of radioactive dust that did their damage before the radiation could dissipate. Wictred knew they would be dead in a matter of days.
She’ll be dead soon. Better for her to die with a rifle in her hands than like that. It’s a cruel way to die.
He looked away from them and in the direction of the promised town. The fact the Alliance fleet had launched such a heavy bombardment as they left told him everything he needed to know; that the battlefield had been lost for now, and anybody still living there was on borrowed time. He felt no guilt at lying. There was little point in telling them the truth. They were hundreds of kilometers from any known town, and the enemy was coming for them.
I will give them a death, one that is worthy of their sacrifices.
He ground his teeth at the enormity of what he planned on doing and then made his plans.
We'll find whatever is left of these Biomechs, and we will reduce them to ash before our time is done.
* * *
The heat from Prometheus warmed the interior of the Mauler as it circled over the landing zone. The surface was primarily thick rock, but in places molten metal ran in rivers from the scores of volcanoes littering its surface. At first glance the world looked impossible to house anything but an incinerator, yet careful scrutiny would reveal a hive of activity in a dozen locations. This planet was the home of one of the largest research bases, engineer outposts, and naval shipyards in the entire Alliance.
“Hold on, we’re moving into our landing pattern,” said the pilot.
The Mauler altered its thrusting pattern and moved from its slow circling pattern and onto the correct approach vector for the angled blast doors. They were fitted directly into the side of a massive cliff that reached nearly three kilometers up from the surface. Out in the distance, vast plumes of black smoke filled the red sky, and the telltale flashes of yellow and orange marked the burning of the volcanoes. Teresa looked at the screen that showed a frontal view from the craft as they closed in. She wasn’t the only person on board, but she was the senior Marine Corps officer. More importantly, she had detailed knowledge of the base. A handful of the officers from the battalion had also joined her for the visit.