Ghost Soldiers

by Michael G. Thomas

  Spartan sniffed as he did a quick calculation in his head.

  "So five to get here, minimum. That doesn't give us much time. If they're late, we'll be trapped aboard this vessel and with that thing."

  Khan seemed to agree.

  "True. If he's late for any reason, we'll be dead. Nothing will stand when Euryale detonates. Everything on this derelict will be vaporised by her self-destruct system."

  Five-Seven was the only one that didn't seem particularly concerned at the news.

  "I concur. Either we get out on the dropship, disable Euryale's denotation..."

  "...or we find another way off this thing," said Khan.

  The derelict vibrated violently and dust dropped down from the ceiling. Many of the marines looked up, including Spartan and Khan.

  "What the hell was that?"

  The radio system crackled, and the familiar voice of Lieutenant Anne Lee spoke over the command channel. It was encoded, but open to all the officers and non-commissioned officers in the company.

  "We've got a problem down here."

  Captain Delatorre shook his head.

  "Tell me something I don't know."

  Spartan checked his weapon status as he answered.

  "Go on, tell us."

  "We detected the creature moving back inside the rest of the derelict before it vanished near the wreckage of the habitation dome. One of the remaining drones shows it has started manually opening seals in multiple sections of the hull. I have one opened at point three-five-five and another at three-five-nine."

  "What?" Khan said.

  Captain Delatorre pulled out a secpad from its mount on his armour and examined the schematic of the derelict. With the data link terminated, he had to mark the changes. He then moved the unit in front of the two metal war machines. Spartan leaned in closer to look before speaking.

  "It makes sense. The Trusska knew of this weapon and would have designed systems to reduce the chance of it taking control. The only way it can do this is to physically reach the controls and breach them. It is moving around the derelict, and it is up to something."

  Captain Delatorre checked another screen on his secpad.

  "You think it is only able to influence communications and propulsion?"

  Khan nodded.

  "I don't think it has control of propulsion, more like it can influence navigation, and the ship does the rest. If it could do, don't you think we would have changed course by now? With so little time left, there is nothing that can be done to stop this derelict from reaching Euryale and being vaporised."

  "So what is the creature doing?"

  Spartan answered him before Khan could say more.

  "Look at the schematic and the seals it has breached. Notice anything unusual?"

  Spartan sent the data via the direct microwave link to Khan. The imagery appeared on his overlay and added to his mapping data of the derelict. At first it was impossible to see what was happening, and he was forced to zoom out of the city-sized facility. The derelict had little in common with a ship, looking more like a junkyard of Trusskan ships, each attached together for mutual benefit. Then he spotted it.

  "The smaller ship, on the dorsal section."

  "Yes," agreed Spartan, but with a questioning tone.

  "No...it can't be doing that."

  Captain Delatorre was already looking at the same data, and discussing it with Five-Seven. Spartan spotted movement and looked back to watch as a partially damaged SAAR robot moved into position at the breach doorway. Further to the left a pair of marines helped carry away another body.

  Khan grunted in agreement.

  "...it knows it cannot win with another assault, not while it is badly damaged. So it slinks off to repair itself while preparing a section of the derelict to detach."

  "Exactly," said Spartan, "Once it has released all of the locks, the creature will release the vessel. It is much smaller than anything else here, and will get itself clear of the blast."

  Khan snarled as he listened to Spartan's assessment.

  "And leave us here to burn with the rest."

  Captain Delatorre didn't seem convinced.

  "But won't it be weakened if deprived of the power of this ship? Surely none of the ships connected to this structure still function?"

  Spartan sighed.

  "It doesn't need a functioning ship, it just needs enough juice to get it away from the rest of us. A series of detonations around those breaches would do the job."

  Khan seemed to agree.

  "Yeah, and then it goes into hibernation until some other poor fool finds it in a few years or decades."

  Khan reached for Spartan's arm.

  "So, my friend, what do we do? I will not stay here to die, and I'll be damned if I'm letting that thing escape."

  Spartan contemplated what lay before him. His gut instinct was, as always, to attack.

  "Forget the dropship, we have a job to do. Get everybody here, including the wounded."

  The others looked stunned at what he was saying.

  "You're serious?" Captain Delatorre asked.

  Spartan deactivated his armour, and the panels slid and moved until he could be seen inside the massive armoured fighting suit. His visor was open, and his face visible to them all.

  "I am deadly serious, Captain. We will deal with this creature once and for all. If guns won't do the job, we'll use blades and fists."

  The Captain shook his head.

  "And what about Euryale? How will we avoid the blast?"

  Spartan grinned.

  "You're assuming we come out of this thing alive. All that matters is that we stop this thing."

  He then looked to Khan, the only one of them that seemed to relish this opportunity.

  "In any case, I've got a plan."

  Those nearby looked to each other, but none had a clue what to say. Spartan activated his command network and selected a particular transponder.

  "This is Spartan. Are you still there?"

  He waited, and it took almost five seconds before a pained answer came back.

  "Kanjana here. I'm at the rear of the ship. We made it this far, but I lost Jarvis in an ambush by one of the walking machines. Richards is injured, but not badly. I am at the evacuation level on the port side. I can see control units from here for the power system, and a single sentry machine guards them. I've been waiting to hear from someone, anyone."

  Spartan swallowed uncomfortably. He'd hoped and prayed she would have made the perilous journey through the ship. He doubted he could have done it, a kilometre through twisted corridors, shafts, and ladders, all while under the watchful eye of the enemy. She could have been killed in a thousand ways, yet there she was, safe and waiting.

  What a woman! What could I do with a hundred of her?

  "Can you disable the power units of the derelict?"

  He held his breath as he waited. It was a hard thing to ask, especially knowing the two of them were out there at the rear of the ship and alone.

  "I've already checked the power core from my carbine. If you can give me enough lead-time, I can reconfigure it to overload with a plasma blast. In the right place it could cripple this vessel."

  She took a breath, one so deep it could be heard over the communications system.

  "Send me the word, and it will be done."

  Spartan closed his eyes while smiling. Kanjana was unique, and her skills far surpassed so many on that derelict. What she lacked in military training, she made up for with her natural abilities, and her incredible knowledge of machinery and electronics. Right now, what amazed him the most was her resourcefulness.

  "Good job, Kanjana. Wait for my command."

  "Understood. Oh, and Spartan?"

  He swallowed, expecting yet more bad news.

  "Yes?"

  "It's good to hear your voice again. Let's get this thing."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The XC1 Carbine first came to fame in the fighting on Karnak. Although rather dimi
nutive in size, the firearm finally fixed the problem facing Alliance ground troops, that of a myriad of enemies, each with unique strengths and weaknesses. Though highly volatile if not properly maintained, the magnetically cased plasma projectiles were more powerful than anything previously carried by a human warrior. Now a single marine could tackle infantry, robotic fighting machines, and even medium armour without having to resort to heavier weaponry. The HEC-1 weapon system was directly related and provided an upscaled version for use by Mavericks and armoured vehicles.

  Equipment of the IAB

  Unidentified Derelict, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan

  Spartan looked at what remained of his Interstellar Assault Brigade Company with horror. Had he been on his own he might have wept; it was a terrible sight to see. He knew they'd suffered badly, but had no idea it was quite this bad. He'd boarded the derelict with seventy-two marines, Captain Delatorre plus Five-Seven and handful of Thegns. Normally, the numbers of wounded would greatly outnumber the dead. This was a consequence of the use of better and more flexible body armour. Now he looked on to see just four wounded marines, and each was capable of walking, albeit painfully.

  "This is not good," said Khan.

  Other than Spartan and Khan, the only heavies remaining were the three lieutenants, and Sergeant Tyler. Spartan looked to Lieutenant Kipling first and then to Lieutenant Anne Lee.

  "Where are your NCOs?"

  Both remained motionless as they spoke. Lieutenant Anne Lee spoke first.

  "In the last hour we've taken heavy casualties. The machines caused many casualties. But the last assault, it was a bloodbath. They cut down the wounded first."

  Spartan lifted his hand. He'd already heard more than enough.

  "So, this is it, all that we have to end this."

  He wanted to sound positive, but the numbers made that difficult. He was down to a single JAS, four Maverick suits and just fifteen IAB Marines. Of the Thegns, only two remained, one of which was Five-Seven. Spartan closed his eyes for a moment.

  It's regrouped, can we do this?

  Spartan experienced a moment of doubt, and then he remembered that he'd already lost most of those he'd brought with him. If they failed, their lives would have been wasted.

  We will stop this creature escaping, if that's the last thing we ever do.

  He called out the names of those waiting, never haven forgotten a single one of their names. With each of them responding, he marked their details on his overlay. It took less than a minute, and when finished he knew exactly who had lived, and who had fallen.

  It was the tiny number remaining that truly stunned him. A combat unit with those kinds of losses would normally be pulled out of the line and sent back for rebuilding. According to any measure, they had been completely decimated. All of the NCOs other than Tyler were gone, and he was quite frankly stunned that his officers still lived, and could only assume it was down to them all wearing the resilient Maverick armour. He began to wonder if perhaps they should have stayed aboard Euryale, and then remembered what had happened there. They would have all been irradiated at best, and more likely killed in a core detonation.

  This was the least bad option, now you have to make it count for something.

  "The creature is badly wounded, and it has already pulled back its forces from their assault. There is only one reason for them to do this."

  Khan stepped in to continue.

  "It knows we're alive, and that we are all heading towards a ship that will autodestruct soon."

  "Yes," said Captain Delatorre, "According to my data, the systems have already started their overloading procedure. The heat generated by the systems will be obvious to anybody able to scan the ship. It is irreversible now."

  A few of the marines shook their heads, and one began to question his statement. Spartan cut him off.

  "It doesn't matter how this happened, or what the enemy might be aware of. All we need to know is that this thing, known as a Guardian is trying to escape."

  He twisted at the hip and looked at each of them.

  "Will you let it go?"

  The chorus was loud and in full agreement. Spartan beamed as he walked in front of the group.

  "This Guardian is cutting the airlock supports to a small, inoperative transport ship. This derelict is a collection of ships, each one joined to the next via airlocks, tunnels, and shafts."

  He stopped and then pointed off the damaged blast doors.

  "Once it has finished, it can blast it away and avoid the worst of the explosion from Euryale. The radiation will do little to affect it, and then it will wait until somebody, someday finds the ship and heads aboard to investigate."

  He turned to the officers, each of which towered over the marines.

  "You've all seen what it can do with our technology, our communications, and even our ship. If it could reach occupied space, it would wreak havoc. Even worse would be if it could find a way to replicate itself. I am not joking when I say this could be a world killer."

  Spartan licked his mouth and then pointed to the welded and patched up blast doors, the same ones he had left a day before. Back then he'd taken less with him; but had the element of surprise. Now every single defensive system would be activated and deployed to protect the Guardian until it could escape.

  "I intend on finding this Guardian and reminding it that this is our territory, our sector, and I'll be damned if some machine will take it from us. Now, are you with me?"

  At first nobody spoke, then Sergeant Tyler, resplendent in his smashed Maverick armour lifted his arm. The snapped lance was still jammed into the plating, and Spartan dreaded to think what he would find when they opened it up, assuming any of them made it out of the derelict alive.

  "I'll stand with you."

  Corporal John Evans, the last surviving junior NCO in 3rd Platoon lifted his carbine up high. Blood trickled down from a puncture wound to his flank, yet even after these agonising hours he refused to acknowledge the wound. The Corporal was a tall man and barely able to squeeze inside the tight confines of his damaged M-3B tactical armour. Spartan noticed the triple lines that had cut into the chest plate, no doubt an injury sustained in close combat with one of the machines, and nodded slowly. Before he could speak another joined in.

  "Me, too, Major. It's time we told this machine who's boss."

  Spartan almost laughed at the bravado, but he could see that every one of them, man, woman and Thegn was equally serious. One by one each of them did the same, and each of the injured marines joined in, showing as much eagerness to end the fight as the rest of them.

  "Good," said Spartan, "We will track this thing down, like a bear to its cave. When we find it, it is imperative we stop it from escaping in the transport."

  Satisfied they were ready, he lifted his arm and gave the signal they were all waiting for.

  "Let's do this. Move out."

  Khan and Sergeant Tyler took the lead, and the remaining heavies spread out through the formation. Sergeant Tyler moved more slowly, held back by his shattered leg. Only the powered suit and the myriad of drugs kept him going, at least for the next few hours. The Thegns took the middle position, and due to combat losses, all were carrying XC1 carbines. Khan ripped open the damaged blast door with his armoured limbs and cast the wreckage aside.

  "With me."

  The journey to the marked location in the derelict took less than thirty minutes, but as they moved closer, it became clear that every single piece of equipment had been pulled back. Last time Spartan and his comrades had travelled through the derelict, there had been machines and weapons at nearly every turn. Now the vessel felt empty, and he began to wonder if they were too late.

  Just as the doubt began to feel real, he heard a sound. He lifted his arm into a fist and the column stopped as one. Spartan moved ahead, Khan at his flank. Dust drifted about like a thick smoke screen, and though partially obscuring them, it also made it more difficult to see what was ahead. There was lots of cover, with cont
ainers, storage bins, machinery, and at least three wheeled vehicles, all of which had been looted for parts, including most of their wheels. Khan extended his arm and pointed off to the left.

  "I see them."

  There were at least fifteen machines of different configurations, and all were moving around the airlock seals to the transport. As they watched, a flickered blue shape appeared near them. They were busily trying to disconnect them all from the transport. Two were smashing away at huge clamps holding an airlock in place. It made a grinding sound, and then fell away to leave an open space and a clear view of the grey coloured transport on the other side. Five-Seven approached and lifted his secpad to show Spartan.

  "There is a small umbilical shaft that joins the dorsal mount of the transport. It's one level up and leads down into the transport."

  Movement caught his eye, and he spotted four of their modified Grunts walking out from one of the airlocks.

  "Damn it, they have units inside the transport as well."

  It took a moment, but as he looked at the situation, the rudiments of strategy came to him.

  "We can't all get inside that way. As soon as you get inside the umbilical, they'll be on you. Those already there will keep you busy, and the rest will come in to help. It will be a massacre."

  Khan had been listening.

  "Yeah, so we draw them out and buy time for the others."

  "Exactly."

  Spartan checked the schematics once more and looked to Five-Seven, who seemed to be the resident expert on the design and construction of the Trusskan derelict.

  "How long to reach the umbilical?"

  "Six minutes," Five-Seven said without having to think.

  A loud crashing noise turned their attention what was happening on the deck. Spartan and Khan moved slightly closer, doing their best to eliminate as much noise from the steps taken by their Maverick armour.

  "The Guardian," hissed Khan.

  Spartan followed his lead and spotted their enemy, the great machine that had brought them all so much calamity. He then checked each of the airlock units and found all but three had now been detached from the transport.