The Great Betrayal

by Michael G. Thomas

  “And their ships?”

  “Leave them to the fleet. We will take the punishment while they finish the fight.”

  The ships changed formation quickly, and in minutes the automated fleet concentrated its full power onto the single Battlecruiser. The occasional projectile struck into her flank, but incredibly after twenty minutes of continuous bombardment not a single nuclear missile had reached her. The 1st Battle of Helios ended with the complete destruction of the automated fleet for the cost of a single crippled Crusader class ship. By the time it was over, Admiral Lewis was sweating profusely. He looked over the casualty and damage reports. He counted less than fifty on his own ship, but it was the information coming back from ANS Sentry that almost made him vomit.

  Two hundred and twelve dead, seventy-two wounded, and for what?

  Because of his decision, hundreds of men and women were now dead or wounded. One of the newest Crusader class warships would need months of repair work, assuming it was even salvageable. He wiped his brown and ran his finger along the lines of data.

  “Admiral, incoming message from the AJ Naval Station. It’s Admiral Anderson,” said the communications officer. He nodded slowly in reply.

  “Put him on the main screen.”

  The face of the Admiral filled half of the main screen, and he was surprised to see the man was smiling at him. There was a delay while the signal worked its way from the Naval Station, through the Rift in T’Kari space, and then through Helios to his ship.

  “Admiral Lewis, I have been monitoring the battle reports in the T’Kari Sector. You’ve done great work. Your Captains are to be commended. This is one of the most decisive battles in the Alliance’s history.”

  Admiral Lewis wiped his brown again, wondering quite how many battles the Alliance had even fought in its short history.

  “The ground operation is going well. Our troops have the Animosh and their commanders boxed in around the Triangle sector.”

  He took a short breath as if he was preparing for something bad.

  “The T’Kari inform me they have intercepted communications between the Khreenk and the forces of Justitium Lyssk.”

  Now it was Admiral Lewis’ turn to hold his breath as he waited for the inevitable news.

  “It looks like they are attempting a rescue of their High Command.”

  The face moved to the right, and a map of the Helios Sector appeared. To the left were the planet and the small group of ships under the command of the Khreenk Admiral. A short distance away sat the three ships led by ANS Crusader.

  “Your ships are too late to stop them getting on the ground. I need you to blockade the planet. Do not let Justitium Lyssk and his commanders escape, or this war could go on indefinitely.”

  “Understood, Admiral. We’re on the way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The wild frontier of Alliance space was based in T’Karan, the area of space that was once the heart of the T’Kari Empire. With just a few small colonies of these advanced aliens remaining, they quickly turned to the Alliance for protection and became the first group of outsiders to join the growing empire. First there were just the humans that had originated on Earth. Then came the synthetics, creatures built for war with technology from an unseen race. The T’Kari were the third people to become part of the Alliance, but they would not be the last.

  A Brief History of the Alliance

  ANS Crusader and her two sister ships burned their engines at maximum power as they approached Helios. Directly in front of them waited the force of Khreenk ships, each of them sat in high-orbit like a group of fat slugs. The distance was less than a thousand kilometres when the shapes of two-dozen troop transports detached and made for the surface of the planet. Admiral Lewis watched the video feed from aboard ANS Conqueror.

  “Admiral, can we open fire?” asked Commodore Andon Leson.

  Admiral Lewis knew full well that destroying transports loaded with unknown numbers of Khreenk could be disastrous. According to Admiral Anderson there was a chance they might be on a rescue mission, but they could easily be mercenaries. Yet he had no idea who might be inside. It was just as likely they were simply prisoners. He just didn’t know, and enough had died on his watch that day already.

  “Have you been able to reach Admiral Lanthua?”

  The Commodore looked back at him on the video communication channel. He shook his head.

  “No, Admiral, he is refusing to answer our hails.”

  “Very well, your orders are to establish a close-proximity position and to deploy fighters. They are not to leave Helios, understood?”

  “What if they try to leave?”

  Admiral Lewis grinned.

  “Then you will have to stop them, by any means necessary.”

  * * *

  The last assault comprised over a hundred Helion militia that were forced to charge the guns of the marines, or face being shot by the Animosh security forces. Over a quarter of them tried to escape, but the Animosh were merciless. As the last civilian fell to the ground, Jack had to turn around and opened his visor. The stench of blood, smoke, and battle filled his nostrils, and he vomited behind their barricade. Wictred saw him and shouted over.

  “Jack, you okay?”

  He retched twice more before reaching for his water bottle and taking a swig. He spat on the floor and looked back to Wictred.

  “Yeah, just great.”

  “Marines, this is it. They are falling back in large numbers. Push them back!” said Sergeant Stone calmly.

  One by one the marines climbed out from whatever cover they were using and moved toward the place where the enemy had emerged. First they walked past or over the hundreds of bodies, then past the vehicles, and finally deep into the tunnel. The bight lights from their armor-mounted lamps lit the way and revealed the cost the civilians had played. Even that far back, there were bodies on both sides.

  The civilians, they must have fought the Animosh, right here in this very tunnel. And we killed those that got away.

  It took nearly twenty minutes for them to reach the higher level of the tunnel. There were fewer bodies there until they reached the loading area. This was the point where the surface tracks entered the tunnels. Scores of wrecked vehicles littered the place and bodies lay charred and burned to a crisp.

  “Look!” called out Wictred.

  Jack lifted his gaze to dark shapes in the sky. They were moving fast and off to the right. Vapor trails from scores of fighters and drones continued to fill the sky, but it was the dark shapes that seemed to interest the marine officers the most.

  * * *

  The numbers of civilians around the Triangle was growing. Gun’s forces almost seemed redundant as he watched them climb through broken windows or over wrecked vehicles, overrunning previously contested enemy positions. It was just as well though; he looked at his own forces and was amazed by the amount of blood, dust, and dirt on their armor. Try as he might, he couldn’t find a single unblemished marine. Lieutenant Read appeared, and he seemed even filthier than the rest.

  “Colonel, out spotters have intel that the enemy has abandoned the transport hub. They are moving overland and easy prey to our air cover.”

  Gun smiled uncontrollably.

  Good work, Colonel Koerner, your marines did their job. Now it’s time to end this.

  “Where are they going?”

  “This is the strange thing, Colonel. They are moving to the docklands.”

  A series of at least twenty sonic booms echoed across the skyline, and above them emerged the black shapes of Khreenk troop transports.

  “That’s less than a kilometer away, behind those structures?”

  He pointed at the towers off to the right.

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  An urgent flash alert showed inside his visor. It was from the fleet. Before he checked it, he gave his orders to the rest of the marines in the area.

  “Company commanders, keep up the pressure on the Triangle. All units with
in combat range of the docklands are to move there immediately. The Animosh are regrouping.”

  “Colonel!” called out a marine from the back of an open backed Bulldog. They were another of the variants used to transport small units of Jötnar and Vanguards. He climbed up, shouting orders to the rest of the marines. In less than a minute, the column of vehicles had broken away from the fighting. The remaining marines climbed over the debris littering the final defenses of the Triangle. Gun had a new objective, and as they accelerated toward the landing platforms in the docklands, he could see the dark shapes of the new troop transports heading in the same direction. He checked the aerial view of the docklands. This particular area was inside what had been the Animosh frontlines. His forces were spread thin, and he desperately needed numbers in position and fast. His eyes scanned quickly before he found the transport hub. It was only a short distance from the docks.

  “Lieutenant, I need to speak with Captain Carter. I have a job for him.”

  * * *

  Jack couldn’t believe how happy he felt after climbing out of the underground hellhole. They were now two levels above ground and waiting at the side of an abandoned street. Most of his platoon was there plus marines from the other units that had so recently arrived to assist in the battle.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you hear the Sergeant?” replied Private Frewyn.

  Private Riku walked up and slapped him on the back.

  “Jack, we have new orders.”

  She pointed one level up and just under a kilometer away. It was a raised platform with roadways running alongside it. Sitting on the platform was the dark shape of some alien transports.

  “See that platform. Those are Khreenk transports. Corporal Wictred says they are landing mercs.”

  “What?”

  A group of eight Bulldogs approached. Half were the mobile gun units, the rest standard troop transports. Waiting hands helped pull the marines inside, but when it came to Jack’s squad there wasn’t space. Three more open-topped Bulldogs appeared with a number of Jötnar and Vanguards hanging onto them. Jack raised his arm. He found himself lifted inside by a familiar face.

  “Jack?”

  He looked into the grinning face of Gun.

  “Gun? What are you doing here?”

  Another helped Wictred inside, who then proceeded to smash his fist into Gun in what looked like a fight, but was the closest the Jötnar ever got to showing a normal level of feelings toward each other. He finally stopped and looked down at the two of them.

  “You’re in time for the end game.”

  Jack looked back. There were a large number of vehicles flying the unit pennants and markers of his own battalion. Gun must have assembled a mixture of units en route to attack the dockland area. Gun stood up and pointed ahead.

  “Faster!”

  The column of more than fifty Bulldogs continued at high speed. There was relatively little defensive fire, as they were well past the frontline and now inside what had been safe parts of territory controlled by Justitium Lyssk’s forces. The highway became wide and split off into three main routes as they entered the outskirts of the docks. Jack looked at the dozens of mushroom shaped structures that pushed up high into the sky. Sitting upon the nearest six were the black transports and around them hundreds of soldiers clad in black armor. Even at this range, Jack could see them running for cover around the platforms.

  “Attack!” he roared.

  At this point the highway had essentially stopped, and the entire level was more like a massive flat runway, with the reinforced mushroom landing pads dotted about at intervals of two hundred meters. The Bulldogs spread out into a wide group, the mobile guns leading. They fired on the move and were quickly rewarded with a number of yellow explosions around the transports and the soldiers.

  “Who are they?” Wictred asked.

  Gun pointed at another ship that was moving to land on one of the platforms. He picked out the yellow runic symbols on the craft’s flank.

  “Khreenk ships. They must have paid them to turn this battle around.”

  He laughed as a shell exploded nearby and sent hot metal into the armored flank of the Bulldog. It shuddered slightly but continued on.

  “It’s too late for them; the rebels will have the capital within the hour.”

  That was when Jack saw the convoy.

  “Look, to the left!”

  Gun spotted them right away. It looked like a group of at least fifty vehicles of all different shapes and sizes, and they were heading right for the central landing platform. Atop the structure was another transport, but this one was even larger than the others, perhaps twice the size, probably capable of carrying two to three hundred warriors.

  “It’s Justitium Lyssk. He must be trying to escape.”

  Fifteen vehicles split off from the column and changed their course to intercept the advancing marines.

  “They mean to stop us,” Gun said, selecting an open channel to the other troops.

  “All marines, we have to stop those transports from escaping. Bring them down!”

  The black colored armored vehicles stopped two hundred meters from the central landing platform and then spun about to present their flanks. Armored shutters opened up, and hundreds of red armored warriors leapt out. Some climbed up on top of the vehicles. Others took cover behind them, but the majority spread out to use whatever cover they could find. By the time the marines were in range, they had established a cordon around the central platform. The marines might have been able to crash through them, but the black armored soldiers from the dozen transports already on the ground had to be dealt with first. Two Bulldogs were torn apart by the guns of the nearest waiting transport, and the rest scattered to avoid being hit. Gunfire hit them like rain, and within a few seconds three more of the Alliance vehicles were wrecked.

  “Marines, dismount!” Gun ordered.

  His personal Bulldog stopped and he jumped off, followed quickly by the other marines. There was ample cover with wrecked vehicles, crashed ships, and small buildings and control stations all around. They scattered to find cover; more and more gunfire tore into their positions. One round slammed into Gun’s collar, and he spun around and fell to the ground. Wictred helped drag him to safety, but it was nothing more than a painful impact.

  “What now?” he asked.

  Gun looked out at the bloodbath around the platforms. His forces were outnumbered five to one, and the vehicles of Justitium Lyssk were already disgorging their precious cargo to the waiting transport. Gun wanted to order a full frontal charge but knew in his heart it would just get them all killed. He looked at his tactical map on his visor.

  Yes, that will work.

  “Colonel Gun. I need air strikes in this sector,” he said to the nearest controller.

  There were already dozens of fighters busily engaged in the battle overhead. In just a few seconds two flights of Lightning Fighters broke off and screamed past to strafe the ground target. As they closed, the gun turrets on the transports opened fire with terrifying effectiveness. Three fighters exploded as they blasted past. He called again, but a message interrupted him from high orbit.

  “Colonel, this is Commodore Andon Leson. I have orders to stop these Khreenk transports leaving Helios. What is your status? Can you stop them?”

  He leaned out from cover but like the rest of his forces, he was pinned down by superior firepower. He bit his lip so hard in frustration that blood trickled down the left side.

  “Negative, they have a strong defensive cordon; I need more marines and air cover to finish this.”

  “What the hell!” muttered Jack, looking up.

  Gun followed the direction of his gaze. A large dark shape had entered the atmosphere and was streaming toward the surface. Flames and smoke bellowed around it to give the effect of some great comet. Even as he watched, Gun’s computer system was analyzing the ship and its trajectory.

  That’s not fair, he thou
ght when the conclusion was presented. The ship was heading directly for the docks. The shape and size showed it was something close to a destroyer class, and no matter how many missiles were fired at it by Alliance fighters it wasn’t going to be stopped. He looked at Jack and then to Wictred, both of whom were covered in a mixture of blood and dust.

  “We can’t stay here,” Jack said.

  Wictred placed his hand on Gun’s shoulder.

  “He’s right. That thing will hit like a nuke. We have to move, and fast!”

  Gun looked back up and spotted the black smoke trail of a burning ship. It must have been the size of a destroyer and was heading to the ground at such a speed it would never be able to recover. The marines were pinned down by gunfire, but even this sound paled next to the rumble coming from the falling ship as missiles tore chunks from its armor.

  “They aren’t helping; it’s just turning from one target into many,” said Wictred glumly.

  The rattle of heavy caliber gunfire from the Bulldogs started to take effect, and Jack leaned out to watch a dozen of the black armored warriors fall down from the heavy fire. Given time, it looked like they might prevail, even against the odds. He lifted his carbine and took aim. A gentle squeeze, and he put another on his back, a smoldering hole in the soldier’s chest armor.

  Who the hell are they? he wondered.

  Missiles rushed toward the ship from a gaggle of circling Alliance fighters, but it was already wrecked and out of control. Alarms flashed inside his head, and for the first time Gun felt real fear, not for himself but for his marines. He wanted Justitium Lyssk caught, but not by losing everybody around him. He looked at Jack, his friend’s only son, and knew if he didn’t act fast they would pay the price. The computer was still monitoring the falling ship, and it gave an estimate of just over a minute till impact.