"It's IAS Euryale. She's in serious trouble. I need a response, and fast."
Gun closed his eyes briefly and took in a long, irritated breath.
Captain Wilson, the Alliance military liaison officer with CTC, moved out from the darkness and towards him.
"I have the latest reports for you."
The man now operated as the glue between the unusual arrangement of public and private sector that was employed in the IAB. While Gun and the General were technically in the Alliance military, they had been seconded to the independent unit. The Captain was strictly Alliance Marine Corps, and he operated as an effective conduit between the official channels and the IAB. Gun looked to them both, imagining the variety of situations the advanced warship could have got itself into. A group of Thegns moved in and helped lift the unconscious Olik between them. Knaprig approached Gun and waited at his flank. Gun looked at him and shook his head.
"What has Spartan done now?"
* * *
IAS Euryale, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan
"Squeeze in everything you can. Don't waste any space," said Spartan.
The Operation Level was packed with the men and women of the IAB, as well as thirteen Thegns operating as crew under the command of Five-Seven. Spartan and his officers watched as they filed inside the Jackal class dropships. There was more than enough space to go around, but Spartan had insisted on them taking as much heavy armour as possible. Each of the officers and non-commissioned officers wore their Maverick armour, the massive sets of motorised armour. All of their weapons were stowed internally, with only the muzzles of the coilguns showing behind the wrists and on the outside of their arms.
Khan grabbed his arm as he watched the personnel running about. Like the others, he was armoured up, but rather than the Maverick, he wore the vaunted JAS armour. A great hunk of metal designed for close quarter carnage. Compared to the marines and Grunts, they were easily twice the size.
"Are you sure about this?"
Spartan smiled.
"More than anything in the last twenty-four hours."
Khan shook his head.
"So, instead of trying to get back, or modifying the ship to outrun the derelict, we're going for the violent solution."
Spartan struck him in the back.
"I’d have thought that would be right up your street, Khan."
They both looked to the dropships as Spartan repeated the basic plan. They had already agreed on the details, but he found himself repeating it, just so that he could hear it spoken back for the last time.
"I don't see we have much of a choice. We're going to die out here if we stay, and this enemy on the derelict could devastate Alliance territory. Imagine what would happen if it gained control of multiple ships?"
Khan hadn't even considered that. The entity aboard the derelict could, of course, disable or seize control of warships and then turn them against each other, or worse, send them back to attack others. The more he thought about it, the worse the scenario became until the realisation that a self-replicating digital enemy could seize control of most of the Alliance's war machines. It sent a shudder through his body as he looked back to Spartan.
"We have two objectives. First, survival, I want our people kept alive and safe, and I will do whatever I have to, to make sure that happens. Second, it's our responsibility to keep this enemy away from our ship and inhabited space of the Alliance."
Khan angled his head and grinned, so Spartan continued.
"We will board the ship with our full strength and secure a beachhead, then advance inside and expand it to create a safe zone to use as a lifeboat until rescue. The derelict is currently filled with breathable air. Once filtered by our suits, we will be able to use it safely. That will keep our people alive for now and achieve the first objective."
Three Maverick suits marched past, their heavy metal feet clanking on the ground. Spartan could not help but feel pride when he saw them. Back in his first campaign he'd pushed for updated designs based on the engineering armour, and that had resulted in the Vanguard programme. Now the Maverick suits took that to an entirely new level, speed, power, control, and technology, all in the hands of one warrior. He noticed Khan watching him and shrugged.
"Once complete, we will use the Maverick and JAS armour to destroy or take control of their command and control system, so we can redirect the derelict away from Euryale."
He looked to Khan.
"No matter what happens, they are not taking control of our ship."
Khan looked less convinced.
"All of this assumes they will not cut off the air supply, or that our new enemy doesn't force us back to the dropships. Can't we do the same job from space?"
Spartan shook his head.
"No, the derelict will tear us apart if we try that. The dropships will land us while using full countermeasures to confuse their systems and get us aboard. I estimate we'd lose the lot in less than a minute in combat."
Khan said nothing, his silence meaning little more than simple acceptance of the facts. Sergeant Tyler stopped a group of four Thegn engineers at the ramp of the nearest dropship.
"Wait! Where are your weapons?"
They looked at each other, and then one spoke to the Sergeant.
"We do not carry weapons."
Sergeant Tyler shook his head as he walked to the side of the deck. Fitted into special mounts on the wall were the locked carbine units. There were dozens, even though more than a hundred had already been moved. He punched in his security code, and four of the units pushed out a centimetre.
"Take a weapon and two spare packs from the ammunition lockers. Everybody, and I mean everybody is armed."
They took the equipment and then made for the queues to board the dropships. Lieutenant Armstrong pointed to them.
"Arming Thegns? Is that a good idea?"
Spartan threw him a glance that answered without even opening his mouth. Sergeant Tyler intervened, primarily to save his lieutenant the embarrassment of being reprimanded in front of the others.
"Sir, the Thegn units aboard have all received basic training back at Taxxu. I've personally inspected their firearms drill and proficiency. None are allowed on board a ship until they have passed."
The explanation was not an answer to the issue Lieutenant Armstrong had raised, but he was not stupid. Instead of continuing to push, he simply nodded towards his sergeant.
"That is good to know. We don't want any incidents when we leave the ship."
The Thegns had done nothing in the years since the war to earn then distrust, but they were still the face of the legions of monsters that had ravaged so many worlds. Only those that fought for Spartan and the rebels were now in the IAB, with those that had fought for the Biomechs killed in battle long ago.
"True," said Spartan.
He hadn't really been paying attention, but as the Thegns climbed inside the dropship, he felt a moment of pride. He had more to be bitter about than most, yet over the years he'd made allies, and even friendships with creatures that had been his enemies. He was sure some people still believed the argument that he preferred them to his own people.
"There are many of their kin still out there. You've heard the rumours, I'm sure...of warbands that escaped the last days of the war."
Khan shrugged.
"Without ships or support, I can't imagine many made it away. From what I could see, most of them died fighting, following their last orders."
More of the Thegns arrived, this time from the main deck. Five-Seven was last to approach Spartan, with Captain Delatorre at his flank. They stopped in front of Spartan and Khan.
"Major, the ship is on lockdown. We've dumped the core as requested. Until she's given power, she'll be nothing more than an irradiated ghost ship. You made the right call. The last readings showed over half the ship is contaminated. Another hour and Euryale will be a death ship to anything living still aboard."
Spartan could see the man was trying to make an apolog
y while saving face.
"Understood. All I need to know is that you sent the distress call, and you set the destruct sequence?"
Five-Seven answered quickly.
"Everything has been done, just as you requested. The ship will autodestruct in seventy-two hours, and the only way to disable it is with an override code key from an IAB senior level commander."
Khan sighed as he heard this.
"At this rate we'll have no ships left. Are you sure we have to do this?"
Spartan looked as disappointed as him.
"I know, old friend. But if that thing is able to take control of our ship, it might be able to repower her using tech from the derelict. The engines on that thing might be out, but she seems to have plenty of power."
Spartan glanced back at the ship and then indicated towards the final dropship.
"The new plan is simple enough. We bombard the derelict with decoys and make for the landing zones. We board her before the defensive systems can stop us."
He looked back to make sure the last few were now on board the small craft.
"Right, it's time to mount up."
"Yeah," said Khan, "and this time we're taking no chances."
Spartan led them to the ramp and waited as each moved inside. This particular craft was especially cramped due to additional robotic SAAR robots inside. Each looked like an armoured cart, with bulbous wheels and smooth looking turret mounts. They were simply pieces of equipment, yet powerful and more important, expendable. Spartan had made sure that every single piece of heavy armour and equipment made it with them, and the Maverick suits and wheeled SAAR robots were the most powerful thing aboard the ship. The doors shut behind them with a loud clunk, and he looked to them with a quick sweeping glance.
"We take the damned derelict, no matter what they throw at us. Understood?"
* * *
Kha’Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance
Gun wiped his brow with a thick red towel as he listened to Captain Wilson explain the events at Sector Sixteen. It was a far cry from a briefing room or centre of operations. Olik had recovered and paced back and forth impatiently, but Knaprig was silent. All of them were still breathing hard, though as each second passed the effect of their exertions began to reduce. Finally, Gun lifted his hand for the Captain to stop.
"Okay, wait a minute."
His voice was low-pitched, yet resonated with a growl.
"You're saying they've encountered an enemy, and somehow it has infected their ship. Is that what you're telling me?"
Captain Wilson nodded, but Gun still seemed unconvinced. General Black had remained silent for the last minute but now intervened.
"Yes, Gun, that is exactly the problem. Spartan has run right into the most deadly threat we've seen since the Biomech War, and now we have a dead ship with just hours of air remaining."
Gun looked confused.
"Wait. All I can see is that something from the derelict has managed to defeat our countermeasures and infiltrate every part of the most advanced piece of equipment in the galaxy. The equipment we are telling everybody is impregnable and state-of-the-art. And now you say this is the deadliest threat in ten years?"
Captain Wilson turned to General Black and nodded again, looking unfazed by the question.
"Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. Spartan boarded the derelict with a well-orchestrated battle plan, just like we intended for high-risk space-based boarding actions; Jackals providing air support and Grunts for the assault phase. He landed on the derelict with an entire company of Grunts to search for survivors. Like I said, they've been planning for an operation like this for weeks, and in minutes they were engaged in battle. The losses in equipment were heavy, very heavy. What has stunned us all, is that whatever was on that derelict managed to beat off our attack."
Gun was more than a little surprised at what he was hearing. Spartan was more than just a man. He was perhaps the greatest living warrior in the Alliance, and more than a match for an actual Biomech warrior. He could tear an enemy apart with his bare hands, lead an army, or pilot a ship. So the very idea that he had been forced back by something inside a derelict spaceship was a massive shock. Then there were the Grunts, something that was much more than bipedal combat drones; they were the future of massed combat. Each one was tougher than any marine, and able to carry all manner of weapons. They could operate without air, food, or water, and if destroyed, could be easily replaced.
"..But none of that is the issue, right now."
Gun shook his head, his expression grim.
"Our only operational X-45 is drifting in space, unpowered and useless. Is that about right?"
Captain Wilson nodded again, while General Black considered his words carefully.
"That's right, Colonel. And Spartan, being Spartan has refused to sit and wait. According to the last transmission, the ship is dead, and they are out of air. Worse, the derelict is coming for them, and when it arrives, there will be nobody alive to stop them."
Gun grinned.
"Let me guess, General, Spartan has decided to resolve this problem in his own, particular style?"
"Quite. He's loaded every man, woman, and machine onto dropships and is preparing a full-scale boarding action. He will capture the derelict and use it as a lifeboat until we can reach him."
"Interesting. And what if this thing refuses to co-operate?"
The officers exchanged glances, and the tone shifted to something much more sombre. The General leaned in closer to Gun.
"Spartan has his orders. Under no circumstances can he let the derelict leave Sector Sixteen."
They all knew what he was saying, and the very idea that Spartan would be forced to sacrifice himself and his comrades to stop the derelict was abhorrent to Gun. He shook his head angrily.
"Not happening, General; not on my watch."
"Gun, we are not alone in all of this. Admiral Churchill has assembled a small taskforce to deal with the problem, but they are nearly two weeks away from a rescue, if we put out the request."
His eyebrows rose a fraction.
"And based upon what I've seen of the footage, they are going to need more than a company of marines to help. If Spartan cannot keep this thing under control, then we've got a serious problem."
Gun did not look impressed.
"Spartan could handle it, but not if he lost control of the Grunts. You said it yourself; the ship was infected. He's probably heading back there right now, with a platoon of marines and Maverick suits at his back."
General Black could see the pride and also the hurt on Gun's face. The IAB was not his creation, and Gun and the others would protect it, almost like a child. In any other battle the Grunts should have been the perfect weapon, but the IAB's first major operation would now be forever marred by what had happened out there. Mr Walker said what all of them were thinking. As the senior CTC executive, it was his responsibility to manage the business and logistical side of the IAB, and he knew exactly what cost the operation would have.
"Gentlemen, the details of the operation are irrelevant. We cannot have the IAB fail in its inaugural mission."
Gun cleared his throat.
"The IAB? We're talking about people here, good people that are still fighting out there. And what the hell are you saying? Inaugural mission!"
He muttered to himself.
"Maybe you've not heard of a little action on Spascia? One where the IAB resolved one hell of a situation, and right under the gaze of the media."
Mr Walker smiled politely.
"An alien world that many back home still don't see as part of the Alliance; this operation in T'Karan is in the jurisdiction of our Alliance naval base, and more important, it has a high human body count. An Alliance warship has been lost. If our own rescue party is then forced to rely upon Alliance forces to pull us out of trouble…."
He shook his head and moved to the left.
"Well, what do you think will happen? We were called in to hel
p, not to be a liability. There will be no further funding from the Byotai or Khreenk if we can't even protect ourselves, and Alliance funds will dry up if we cannot operate on our own. We need this resolved before it can become an issue."
Gun didn't like what he was hearing but knew it was true. In theory, as an independent private military unit, they could take work from any that paid them. Of course, they could only operate in Alliance space with authority from High Command, but that did give them great leeway to assist in all manner of situations. It was the main reason High Command had finally sanctioned the unusual military unit. Gun lifted his arm and snarled.
"Wait a minute."
He moved closer to the General. He might have been outranked, but that meant nothing to Gun when the lives of his friends were at stake.
"Are you telling me the Alliance military doesn't know about Spartan and this battle? What about the defeat at Sector Sixteen?"
Captain Wilson intentionally moved away so he would not hear what came next. The arena was silent until General Black moved closer and answered. It was all a matter of plausible deniability, though every one of them knew what was actually going on.
"High Command knows there is a problem out there, but not the details. Officially, the sector is part of an ongoing operation. Alliance forces will be held in reserve, in case warship intervention is required. Right now attention is elsewhere."
He rubbed his lower lip.
"Don't forget; there is nothing they can do, not for weeks. And right now there is the small issue of the Byotai border to resolve. There's something else, Colonel, something that has been passed on from Admiral Anderson. Presently, he's at a defence conference on Helios Prime. When news arrived of the derelict, he requested intelligence on the vessel."
Gun shook his head impatiently.
"I know this. The Klithi shared data, but not the others."
That was the point at which the Captain's expression changed.
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