Star Crusades Nexus: Book 03 - Heroes of Helios

by Michael G. Thomas

  You crazy old fool; you can’t wait, can you?

  Rivers did have a tendency to speak his mind. It was one of many things he shared with her husband, and one of the reasons why they got on so well. All she could do now was wait and see what trouble the General got the two of them in.

  “Praetor, we have just fought a war against these machines, a war that we fought on our own, and we won. All of our warriors are professionals, each one offering the state a lifetime of service. Can you say the same?”

  Praetor Darius looked surprised at his words, and for a moment it looked like the General might have gone a little too far. None of the warriors present understood what he had said, but the expression on the Praetor’s face was obvious. Teresa looked at the contingents and wondered what any of them could really add to a battle. The sleepy looking Klithi appeared completely non-threatening while the Byotai looked tough and impressive on the exterior and showed almost no interest in what was happening. It made her feel odd, perhaps slightly superior in one way, and yet vulgar and barbaric in another. She had always assumed that after meeting the T’Kari, any other race would be larger and stronger. There was no particular reason why that would be, it was just her gut feeling, and one influenced probably more by popular culture and her experience in the Uprising than anything else.

  “I understand,” said Praetor Darius, “Even so, each of these warriors is here to show the skills and techniques that their militaries have mastered over millennia. If your people are so wise in the ways of war, why are you not prepared for one now?”

  Teresa bit her lip and did her best to not say something she might regret.

  “What did you have in mind?” asked General Rivers.

  A bugle answered them all as precisely as though it had been timed to the second. From the highest position behind them emerged a group of black clothed warriors. It was a full marine squad from the 17th Battalion, their honors flying high on a tattered standard. What confused her was that the unit was only raised in the last year, and she hadn’t heard of their colors being carried into battle. She moved her eyes and noted General Rivers watching them with a glint in his eye.

  He planned this, all of it, impressive stage management.

  The unit came closer still and every single one of the alien warriors watched in silence as the group of black clothed marines entered the training ground. None were armored but all wore the black uniforms of the Corps. They moved with cold precision, and their footwork and marching was as good as it ever had been. The crump sound from their thick boots echoed through the open space until they reached a position in front of General Rivers. It was only then that Teresa could see the face of their leader, Sergeant Jimmy Reeders. The man was only in his early twenties and had been promoted several times over the last six months.

  “Interesting,” interjected Gun.

  Teresa nodded to the Sergeant, doing her best to forget the images of his predecessor, the beautiful and courageous Arina Nova. The young woman had thrown herself in front of the Major in the battle to secure Helios and had paid the price with her own life. Sergeant Reeders she only knew by reputation. Following the substantial casualties months earlier, he’d been transferred from 3rd Company. They had met only a handful of times, and so far she had not seen him under pressure. He had an unusual crop of red hair, obscured by his beret that covered all but a few small tufts. The man’s eyes were pale grey though; a rare enough color as it was, without the red hair to go with it. As expected, he turned to face General Rivers and her. He then delivered a snappy salute.

  ”General, Major…”

  He then turned to his actual battalion commander.

  “Commander…1st Squad ready for combat drill, Sir!”

  General Rivers returned the formality before motioning for them to array themselves into two ranks to their side. The marines moved efficiently into position; the Alliance delegation now almost matched the size of the others. General Rivers looked at Gun who was also returning the salute to the young man. He still found it odd to call Gun by his old title. Back in the War, the Jötnar leader had been known as the Ko’mandor of his unit, though he was now actually a full colonel.

  “It is good to see you all. We have been asked to take part in a demonstration of military skills. Do you want to participate?” asked General Rivers.

  The squad cheered in agreement in a display that must have been practiced a dozen times. The impression they gave was of supreme confidence, and Teresa suspected that was exactly the point. Praetor Darius seemed not amused at the late arrival, and some of the other warriors from the Khreenk Federation muttered and complained amongst themselves. General Rivers saw this as the perfect opportunity for decisive action, and he did just that. He stepped away from his own marines and nearby to the Praetor where he could then speak to them all. Teresa moved to stand alongside him but said nothing, staying there merely to add gravitas to his words.

  “Honored warriors, I have a proposal to you all.”

  The Praetor translated just a couple of seconds behind.

  “Among my people we have a training routine called ‘Last man standing’. It is a way of pitting groups of warriors together to prove their worth, without the risk of major injuries.”

  He waved with his left arm, and one of the marines from 1st Squad, 1st Platoon moved out of the line and ran out into the empty area. The space was wide yet stopped before reaching the middle. From his jacket, he removed a marker device and pointed it at the gravel-covered ground. It flashed red, leaving a faint line. Without waiting, he then ran off in a wide circle of nearly a hundred meters in diameter before returning to his start position. Everybody, including the Khreenk looked at the red circle with a mixture of pleasure or confusion. The marine returned to his unit, and General Rivers continued.

  “Each group sends in six warriors to the circle. The group with warriors still in the circle at the end wins.”

  Praetor Darius explained the suggestion with quick, high-pitched words. Most of those watching seemed unimpressed, yet the Khreenk were almost apoplectic at the translation when Praetor Darius reached the last part, presumably about the physical violence. The leader of the group walked away and toward General Rivers. He stopped in front and looked at him carefully before speaking in his harsh, guttural language. The Helion commander looked uncomfortable as members from each of the groups spoke. Finally, he turned around to reply to the General.

  “General Rivers, it was our intention for each of our people to put on a public demonstration, one of marksmanship, fighting ability, fitness, and endurance. What you propose is something we never do, a barbaric physical contest where we would compete against each other?”

  He seemed confused at the very idea. Teresa was appalled and for a moment forgot her place.

  “Praetor, are you saying you do not compete?”

  “That is correct. It is critical that the ground forces of the Narau see each other as equals under our unified command. If any one group were to gain a measure of...”

  “Superiority?” answered Teresa with a bitter tone.

  “Why, yes.”

  Teresa looked back to General Rivers with barely concealed surprise.

  “How did they ever beat the machines?”

  He shrugged before turning his attention on the Khreenk.

  “He doesn’t seem bothered at our proposal.”

  Praetor Darius nodded.

  “Yes, he is...well, they are not like the rest of us. The Khreenk have an...unusual history. The others are uncertain as to the point of this exercise.”

  A pair of the reptilian Byotai stepped out from their unit and indicated toward General Rivers. One of them spoke in a very slow, almost monotone voice before falling silent. More of the other warriors started to voice their feelings and called out to the Praetor. He may have been an important figure to the Helions, but there seemed to be little respect or discipline when the disparate people were thrown together.

  “Silence!” roared Gun i
n a voice that boomed through the training ground.

  Gun then twisted his head and grinned at General Rivers before continuing.

  “We are the masters of war, and we are undefeated. We challenge all of you to this contest to prove whose warriors are the best, and to prove…”

  He turned around and looked directly at the Helion soldiers, “who is the weakest of our warriors.”

  His voice was loud and aggressive, so different to any voice heard so far on Helion. Praetor Darius looked on in horror at the words coming from the mouth of the warlike monster standing before him. Teresa watched all of this unfold with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

  So, the General wants us to make a statement, does he?

  She unbuttoned her long black trench coat and tossed it to one of the two bodyguards that had been with them since their arrival. The nearest man caught it as though he’d been expecting it from the start. Four more of the marines stepped out from the ranks to join her. Gun moved forward, but the General shook his head.

  “No, let’s keep this fair.”

  The Khreenk spotted this and shouted out insults at the General while the Praetor did his best to calm them down. No matter what he said, they seemed to become angrier. Eventually, he turned back to them to explain. At the same time, the soldiers from the other groups walked out and into the circle.

  “The Khreenk feel your monster is unwilling to fight them. They say they refuse to fight unless he takes part,” he explained, his hand extended towards Gun.

  Gun roared with a loud, booming voice that caught the attention of all of them. Even Teresa was taken aback at the sound. It was a noise she rarely heard outside of the battlefield. He then stomped off toward her and her comrades. As he approached, he gave her the largest grin she’d seen in months.

  “This will be fun!”

  They moved a little further in the circle and stood in a line. Around the rest of the circle came the contingents from the Helions, Khreenk, Klithi and Byotai. Each group provided six warriors so that there were now thirty of them in the circle. Praetor Darius stood in the middle, and those not taking part moved to the outside of the circle as a small crowd.

  “What weapons will you use?” he asked.

  From the side of the circle, General Rivers replied in a loud voice.

  “No weapons, this is martial combat in its rawest form. Who will win without fancy weapons, armor, or assistance?”

  Praetor Darius explained his words and a mixture of excitement and concern spread through the group. He walked away until almost back at General Rivers and then looked at the competitors. All of them stood waiting, each warrior a man or woman of some experience, but few of them had ever seen actual combat.

  “What do you think?” asked Teresa to her little band of marines.

  “They look green to me, every one of them,” said Sergeant Reeders.

  “Yeah,” agreed Gun, “only the Khreenk seem interested. Those lizard things could be a problem. The rest will be a walkover.”

  Teresa looked at the bizarre selection of aliens before noticing one was missing.

  “Praetor! There are only four groups, where is the fifth?”

  He lifted his hand to his face. It wasn’t clear if he was coughing or hiding his mouth.

  “The Anicinàbe people provide additional forces to the fleet. They do not participate in ground combat. They are, well…unsuited for the rigors of planetary battle.”

  Teresa was not impressed. She moved her eyes toward Gun.

  “Who the hell are these Anicinàbe people?”

  Gun raised his shoulders in indifference.

  “Who cares? If they don’t fight, they are of no use to us. Come on, let’s do this!”

  Praetor Darius lifted his arms and called out something in his own tongue. He looked up to what would have been the sky if they were not underground. As soon as he reached the final and highest pitched word, the four groups of aliens rushed out from their position at the perimeter of the ring and moved toward the marines.

  “Now!” roared Gun, and with that he was off and heading right for the middle of the group. Teresa jogged off to his right; the other four massed on his left.

  What the hell are you doing, you old fool? Teresa thought as she covered the ground.

  The Klithi and Khreenk reached the marines first, crashing together like something from an ancient barbaric battle. Where the Khreenk were vicious and strong, the Klithi were fast but lacking in technique or strength. Gun swung his fists into the first two Klithi and sent them sprawling to the ground, both either stunned or knocked unconscious. A Khreenk warrior and his female companion launched themselves at Teresa with barely concealed semi-transparent blades. Each was almost the length of her forearm and serrated along one edge. She avoided the first strike, but the second cut from the woman left a gash on her arm the size of four fingers.

  “Bastard!” she cried out.

  With deftness and substantial skill, she jammed her knee into the man’s stomach and then snapped his arm down to throw him to the floor. As he fell, she grabbed the blade and stabbed it into the woman’s shoulder. The Khreenk female screamed in pain, but that wasn’t the end. Teresa then struck her with an open palmed strike to her face, breaking her nose in a spray of blood. Finally, Sergeant Reeders rushed over and barged the wounded female to the floor and smashed into the next two.

  “You okay?” he called out, dodging more strikes and kicking or punching the Khreenk as they tried to reach Teresa.

  One Klithi managed to reached Teresa’s flank and punched her hard in the ribs. She groaned, but it was nothing that would stop her. She grabbed the arm and yanked the lithe female toward her before using a hammer blow to her head and knocking yet another of the enemy to the floor.

  “Gun!” shouted one of the marines, but he was too far away for the old warrior to hear. A Khreenk and two Helions were on him in a flash, yet he tossed them aside like a bear being assaulted by dogs. In less than two minutes, the circle was half empty. The non-participants carried the wounded away, until just three Helions, two Byotai, and a single Khreenk warrior remained. They stopped and regrouped as a single group of six and faced off against the Alliance marines.

  “Is that it?” bellowed Gun as the bloodied foe stood panting. Not even the Khreenk seemed keen to continue the melee. General Rivers could see what was happening and decided that now was the perfect time for him to intervene. He stepped into the ring and marched toward the center of the fight. As he came closer, he could see the blood on two of his marines. Teresa clutched a cut arm, and blood ran from Gun’s mouth. The six facing them looked no better, but they also refused to leave the field.

  “That is enough!” he cried out.

  Praetor Darius translated, and to the relief of the Khreenk, Byotai, and Helions it was over. General Rivers looked over to Teresa and lifted a questioning eyebrow. Her clothing was torn, and the fabric of her tunic was ripped about the waist. Even so, she looked happy, but nowhere as pleased as Gun who stood there, undefeated, bruised, and bloody.

  “I love this!” he roared to the pleasure of his comrades and the dismay of Praetor Darius.

  CHAPTER SIX

  By 358CC the world of Private Military Contractors had shifted once more. The seven remaining companies found contracts increasing as Alliance military forces were needed to patrol the enlarged borders that now included T’Karan space via the Prometheus-Orion Rift. The days of contractors operating on frontlines were well and truly over, but the work of protecting civilian ships and installations was now even harder than ever. Just one year on, and the wealthy Carthago Trade Consortium bought their stocks. The timing was perfect and resulted in the creation of the CTC Security Corporation. This massive Corporation employed over fifty thousand people at the time of the Helios Expedition.

  Private Security Directory

  Private Morato and the rest of his squad waited calmly at the grand entrance to the primary hangar. The unit of a dozen marines had split up
so that six flanked both sides of the impressive arched opening. As flagship of the battlegroup and the lead ship in the Conqueror class, she was well equipped for long-range expeditions, as well as entertaining dignitaries, such as those coming from Helios. They’d already moved away from the escorting ships and into a lower orbit over Helios while they waited. Jack, Wictred, Hunn, and Thai Qiu-Li stood on the one side in their smart dress uniforms. On their shoulders were gleaming L52 Mark II carbines and from their belts hung pistols and other gear. Even the two Jötnar wore a variation of the black uniform with their modified black jackets hanging over their pants. It was a bizarre collection of warriors, but the Alliance commanders had been given little choice; they wanted only those involved in the fighting for their system, and the Jötnar had played a very important role.

  “Marines!” said Lieutenant Kathra Rossen in her dour tone, “Here they come.”

  Jack tensed as he heard the footsteps of the approaching group of people. He’d heard rumors of the Helions, yet another group of people the Alliance had come across in such a short space of time. The footsteps became louder, and then he spotted the Helion man, along with two others in dull orange garb. Their clothing was light and flowed as they walked, but it was their faces that surprised him the most. Their skin was tight and yet almost translucent around the bone structure. The color was pale as if they had never seen the sun. If he hadn’t already been briefed, he would have assumed the two were juveniles and certainly not the respected staff of the Ambassador. Directly behind them walked another, this time in darker orange and with a sash tied around his waist. On his head sat an ornate cap encrusted with jewels around a golden bowl.

  Weird, Jack thought.

  They moved past the marines and to the high-ranking Marine Corps and Alliance Navy officers. Jack kept his eyes on the Helions. He couldn’t but help notice the way they moved; it was graceful and quick, almost like the movement of a dancer. He was so busy watching that he didn’t see the two other Helions following up the group. These two were even more diminutive than the others and wore clothing that mixed many colors, even though the emphasis was still on yellows and orange. As they moved alongside the marines, one looked at them. Jack couldn’t tell if the glance was to him or more likely, to his giant Jötnar comrades. Either way, he was able to see the young Helion’s face. It was a woman. There was no doubt about it. Her figure was little different to the human or T’Kari, but she moved with a grace that even the T’Kari could not match. Her dark blue eyes almost glowed as she watched them, smiled and continued on.