The Great Betrayal

by Michael G. Thomas

  “What? I don’t understand you.”

  The alien continued to speak, and Spartan sighed, turning back to his friend.

  “Great, let’s just hope they do the right thing.”

  This part of the ship was equipped with seating and computer systems for at least twenty T’Kari, far more than the mere handful they had to offer. On the outside it had looked very similar to the Raider ships, but now they were inside, Spartan could see there were many differences.

  “What kind of ship do you think this is?”

  Khan looked at the displays and controls and then to the other ships at the docking ring.

  “Look at the hull. These ships have been modified, and recently.”

  Spartan looked at the sleek shape of the T’Kari ships, each of which seemed slightly different. They were very alike the civilian transports used by the T’Kari, but these ones were damaged, some with scorch marks that ran halfway along their hulls. Plates had been fitted on the outside, and there were dozens of simple weapon mounts fitted in odd places.

  “I’d say these were seized in battle, and the Biomechs must have been modifying them for something. Based on the number of guns, they’re making them into gunships of some kind."

  On cue, a number of displays flashed up, and the front of the room changed to look like transparent glass. To the left was the umbilical connector between the ship and the station. Right in front, and still in space, was the Biomech warship. Off to the right was the Rift. Spartan pointed to it.

  “We need to go that way!” he said, half expecting one of them to understand.

  One of the T’Kari pulled up a detailed starmap model and beckoned for Spartan to approach. He did so and looked at the images; none of it looked particularly recognizable. There were clusters of stars as well as scrolling lists of images. Many flashed by, but it was a pale blue orb that caught his eye. He pointed, but it was gone before he could raise his arm. The ship shook and then detached from the umbilical. Alarms sounded, and no sooner had they broken free of the station than a dozen small turrets start shooting at them. Only the ships maneuvering thrusters were operational at this distance. Spartan reached up to the display and dragged back the images until finding the blue orb. It had much in common with the rich world of Terra Nova, but there was something different about this one. The landmasses were not familiar, yet he was certain he’d seen the image many times in the past.

  “Earth,” he said under his breath.

  The world was still part of the Alliance. After all, Earth was the birthplace of humanity, but it was a shadow now, as was the entire old Solar System. Over centuries, the planets and moons had been stripped of their surviving populations, many of whom had moved to the new colonies in Alpha Centauri. Even so, the last stories he’d read said there were still billions of people living there in the shielded worlds of Mars, Earth, and the numerous colonized moons. The development of the Spacebridges, or Rifts as they were now known, had allowed instantaneous travel back to the old worlds, and many thought this would start a new period of development of these long mistreated and plundered worlds. Khan looked at the blue orb.

  “Are you sure?”

  Spartan raised a whimsical looking eyebrow before tapping the T’Kari on the shoulder. As the alien turned around, he pointed at the object.

  “That one. Take us there.”

  The alien looked at it for a brief moment and then back to his comrades. He spoke quickly and loudly as each started up their systems. The entire shipped seemed to buzz with energy as it pulled away from the station, still taking considerable gunfire.

  “He wants something,” said Khan.

  Spartan didn’t understand. He could see that of the three of the aliens on the ship, the taller one was pointing to a seat and computer system further back. There was a bank of six seats, each identical and fitted with screens and controls. The odd thing was that they didn’t match anything else inside the ship, even the color was wrong.

  “What does he want?”

  Khan laughed.

  “I wonder about you sometimes, Spartan. Those have been added, and if you look at the other ships, what has been changed about them?”

  “Guns,” he answered, almost reverently.

  “Yeah, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the alien wants you to control the weapons.”

  Spartan headed for it and sat down. There were controls, a targeting array, and a live video feed from cameras somewhere on the ship. He reached out, and his hand’s movement was detected. The feed moved, as did the target reticule.

  “Spartan, it’s a gun system, you fool. Just point and shoot!”

  The system continued to rotate until an image of the docking ring and the group of small ships moored alongside filled his screen. The ship shuddered as more and more fire struck them. He put the reticule on one of the turrets.

  “What now?”

  Khan brought his fist down on the system’s screen, and a quadruple burst of gunfire rippled out to the ring. Dozens of holes were torn through the outer skin, and he was sure he could spot bodies floating out from the breaches.

  “Nice, keep at it, Spartan,” he said as though suddenly he was in charge. Even so, Spartan continued to select targets for the computer while the scores of small weapon mounts on the ship exchanged fire with the station.

  “I don’t get it. These are just point defense systems. Why don’t they use their big guns?”

  He pointed to a pair of massive turrets that was equipped with guns as big as the primary weapons on a Confederate barge back in the last war. It appeared to be the station’s primary weapon system, yet it didn’t fire. In fact, as he selected more targets, he noticed the thing didn’t even move.

  “Why do you think? If they blow us up, they risk damaging the station.”

  “Of course, and if the station goes, so will the ships connect to it, the Biomechs on board...and that damned Rift.”

  “What about them, though?” asked Khan, pointing out to the second of the ships that had broken free.

  “Yeah, looks like they made it off the station, too.”

  “Not for long, look. The hangar doors are opening on the top level.”

  Spartan looked at them and could just make out the shapes of dozens of fighter drones lined up inside. They were the same designs as those launched by the Biomech ship that had chased them there to start with. As the door lifted up, they could see something much more worrying.

  “Uh, Spartan, look!”

  There were four much larger vessels. They were bigger than a fighter, perhaps three times larger and thin in the middle. A dozen Biomech eight-legged machines fitted themselves onto special mounts that ran along both sides of the craft. Four engines, one at each corner, provided the propulsion.

  “Dammit. If we moved to the Rift, they’ll destroy us with gunnery, and if we stay here, the Biomechs will land those machines on our hull and board us.”

  Khan nodded.

  “And even if we avoid the guns, the fighters will get us by the time we reach the Rift.”

  Khan moved to the next computer station and ripped away the seat. It was far too small for him and best moved aside so that he could reach the controls. He brought up a targeting reticule and aimed it at the hangar. As he selected it, he could see the shape of two turrets along the nose of their ship tracking to the right in the direction he was pointing.

  “Have some of this!”

  With a tap, both turrets opened fire. They were simple weapons that fired kinetic rounds. Just meters before striking, a single defense turret unleashed an invisible blast that disintegrated the rounds. Khan crashed the base of his fist into the system.

  “Particle weapons!”

  Spartan continued to track objects and open fire as their ship moved from the station. They were only a hundred meters away, yet he felt better already. The shape of fighters and the dreaded combat machine transports moved slowly, each staying in range of the particle emitters around the hangar. Spartan rec
ognized the shape. They were identical to those fitted to the Echidna warships in the Uprising, a technology that had almost won them the War. As he took aim, a great shape blocked his view.

  “What the hell is that?” he shouted.

  Khan watched in surprise while the T‘Kari changed the view to a wide-angle lens. The second T’Kari ship was now free, but instead of chasing after their own ship, they had taken up a position in front of the main guns of the station. The yellow arcs from a hundred gun turrets on the station, the Biomech ship, and the T’Kari warship filled the area of space with shards of superheated metal.

  “What are they doing?” asked Khan.

  The T’Kari were arguing, but the taller one struck the female and then shouted for the last time. The female pulled out a weapon and aimed it at the leader. There was a pause and then a flash, as the female put a single round into the leader’s head. He stumbled and fell, leaving a growing pool of blood about him. The female T’Kari looked at Spartan, bowed her head gently, and then struck a button. The ship vibrated, and they were accelerating away at high speed. Khan leaned in closer to his friend.

  “Those poor fools are buying us time to escape.”

  Spartan nodded grimly.

  “Yeah, and that guy wanted to stay back and help them.”

  He looked at the body of the dead T’Kari and the slick pool of blood that continued to expand around him. Though he felt sorry for the alien, he couldn’t disguise the fact they might actually make it to the Rift now. Khan spotted the gloom on his face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  He turned to the left and watched whatever Spartan was looking at.

  “The Rift.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Jötnar Battalion had been expected to return to the military at some point in the near future. Political agreements between the government on Terra Nova and the Jötnar changed things considerably. Now the Jötnar were granted equal citizenship, which meant access to both the Navy and the Marine Corps. Their strength would be felt on Helios where once more the Jötnar would prove their worth in the fire of battle.

  The 1st Jötnar Battalion

  Jack leaned close to the side of the tunnel and strained his eyes to see as far as possible. The computer told him the bend was over a kilometer away, yet in the dark, slightly damp interior he could hardly tell. Dozens more marines waited like him, each with their weapons trained down the tunnel. Even as they waited, more marines arrived and brought with them the mobile defense units. Two ran past him with a Ram and an officer behind them.

  “Get back!” called out the officer.

  The two marines pulled open the sides of the Ram and removed boxes that were about the size of a man’s head. The first of them went ahead of Jack and placed the unit on the ground. He could now see the shape. It was rectangular and enclosed inside a semi-transparent mesh housing.

  “About right?” asked the officer.

  Wictred waited in the middle of the tunnel and simply nodded in agreement. He was preoccupied, listening to the sounds of the approaching enemy forces that were getting louder and louder. The officer tagged the ground by using the engineer’s interface inside his helmet. It was a simple device but incredibly useful, adding markers on the ground that could only be seen by other marines in the tunnel. The two marines positioned six of the devices and rushed back into the tunnel, away from Jack.

  “Well, what now?” he asked Wictred.

  Wictred snorted in reply at him.

  “Watch.”

  His friend knelt down and tapped the rear of one of the units. The frame hissed and then expanded to a meter in each direction in just a few seconds. From inside, a tiny transparent bag inflated, filling the framework to create a sealed box.

  “Uh, what are we supposed to do with that?”

  Wictred tapped the other units and they did the same, much to his friend’s annoyance. Unlike Jack, Wictred had been to the engineering briefing in the last week. He’d seen the demonstration of several new pieces of equipment, and these were the newest piece of tech in the Marine Corps.

  “Just watch...give it a few seconds.”

  Jack waited patiently and almost gave up when he spotted a narrow flash at the base of the unit. A gray mist hissed out and filled the transparent bag. It made a high pressure groan and then stopped.

  “Well?”

  Wictred kicked at the gray shape, yet it refused to move. Jack moved to it but kept his head down, just in case. He tapped it, noting the sound and weight felt like concrete. It was dense but not as hard as stone, more like damp cement or even sand.

  “Portable Barricade Units...you know, PBUs!” said Wictred. He tapped the top of the third unit as it filled with the gray mist. “Maybe attend the lecture next time. Each engineering platoon is getting kitted up with this stuff.”

  Jack watched as the defensive wall built itself before his eyes. As well as being a meter tall, they also fitted together, creating a solid defensive position from which to fight behind.

  “Wait,” Wictred said.

  Jack looked up to his friend.

  “What is it?”

  He held up his hand to remind Jack to stay quiet. It only took a few seconds before Wictred looked back to Jack and the other marines in the tunnel. Sergeant Stone was jogging along its length and stopped next to Wictred.

  “You heard?”

  Wictred raised his head slowly.

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Stone surveyed the defenses and seemed satisfied.

  “Good, the engineers are establishing a reserve weapons store two hundred meters back. Rams have placed sentry markers and mines further into the tunnel. The Animosh are coming.”

  Private Frewyn stared into the tunnel.

  “This way? How many?”

  Sergeant Stone nearly smirked before answering.

  “Son, you have a tactical overlay, why don’t you start using it?”

  That reminded Jack, and he switched to the larger scale overview. He almost choked when he spotted the swarms of flagged enemy troops converging on their position. He might have panicked, had it not been for the calm voice of his Sergeant speaking.

  “Colonel Gun and the 17th have engaged the Animosh from every direction. They have broken their outer defenses, and rebels are pursing them. Drones show them falling back in massive numbers. The precinct and this transport hub are right in the center of their route back to their secondary defensive line.”

  “So if they want to get back, they will have to get through here?” asked Jack.

  Stone nodded.

  “Exactly. In less than two minutes, the entire east flank of the Animosh will try to break through three tunnels here. Our job is to hold this one, the lowest.”

  He turned, looking into the wide tunnel.

  “And the largest.”

  He paused for a few seconds as if expecting something to happen. Finally, he spoke to the marines.

  “Right. We have a job to do. Our friends in the precinct will stop any Animosh getting inside the hub from above. All we have to do is stop several thousand Animosh and their machines from getting through the shafts.”

  Another squad of engineer marines jogged past, along with four Rams. They stopped short of the mines and proceeded to deploy the Rams. From where Jack waited behind the new defenses, he could see the Rams lowering themselves to the ground, creating a number of defensive turrets. As they started to run back, the flags on Jack’s helmet overlay flashed.

  “Here they come, boys. Keep your heads down!” Sergeant Stone shouted.

  Jack kept low and surveyed their position. The tunnel was actually four separate tunnels and merged into a large arched hall big enough to house a military warship. Each tunnel was wide enough to drive three or even four Bulldogs abreast. The marines had constructed two defensive lines with the PBUs, and the engineering squad was busy constructing a third back near the platform. He couldn’t make out the details other than that the wall was already two meters hig
h and filled half the width of the platform. He counted two platoons of marines in position and waiting behind the two front lines, with the gaps mixed with Rams and other defenses. The lines were not complete, but they should be enough. Even so, he counted less than ninety marines against several thousand Animosh and their support units. The engineers were certainly capable of helping, but right now had their hands busy improving the third line, and he doubted another dozen marines would turn the tide, one way or the other.

  “Hostiles, nine hundred meters!” shouted another marine.

  Jack looked deep into the tunnel and watched the red outlines move closer and closer. The wall mounted sentry drones had already spotted the approaching enemy forces and sent the details to the waiting marines.

  “Jack, why don’t we just blow the tunnel?” asked Private Callahan.

  “Who knows? Maybe they don’t want us to cause any more damage.”

  Wictred heard them talking. He was walking along the line a short distance away from Sergeant Stone.

  “We’re not down here to kill them all. We’re here to stop them moving their forces. The longer we can keep them busy, the better.”

  Jack was surprised at his friend’s grasp of what needed to be done. He was right, of course. They were behind the frontline, yet this one place was used to move Animosh forces safely to a hundred different positions. If they destroyed the tunnels, they would just have to find an alternative. By letting them feel they had a chance, they could be contained, and that would give the Helions their best chance at finishing the job.