The last three machines moved towards Khan, and he released the Guardian, long enough to blast one and then charge the other. Spartan was now on his own, so Lieutenant Kipling jumped in the machine’s path to try and halt the thing. It lifted one leg and brought a massive foot down on his suit. The Maverick armour groaned under the weight as joints and seals tore apart. Finally, he was knocked down onto his back. Spartan cried out as he threw every remaining ounce of energy at the thing.
"Get out of here...now!"
Spartan slammed his fists into the Guardian once more then turned around to face the transport. He couldn't see the craft, but he did have a perfect view of the airlock entrances that had connected to the vessel. It now looked like a line of sealed blast doors. The last undamaged machine was heading for the airlock as quickly as it could.
"Spartan, we have left one airlock clear. Get here fast!"
The Guardian brought down its spike-riddled arm and struck Spartan to the torso. The impact was so great it rent open a section a metre long. Even with that hit, he refused to let go of the thing.
"No, this is a direct order. Get clear!"
"Spartan, we cannot..."
"Now!"
Spartan cut the channel and took careful aim before unleashing an overcharged blast of plasma at one of the units near the transport’s connections. As soon as it struck, there was a massive blast of bright orange energy. The derelict shook as the airlock was shattered, rendering it useless, also destroying the last remaining machine. With no lighting, the only way to see what was happening was via the few working lamps on their armour and the flashes of energy from their weapons. Spartan turned his HEC-1 cannon to the Guardian, and at point black range, opened fire. This time he kept the trigger pulled, letting the weapon overheat and simply ignored it. The Guardian shuddered, threw both of them off, and shook itself, as though preparing for some final showdown.
Spartan stretched his shoulder muscles and faced off against the machine. His hand out in front as though about to wrestle. Khan's guns were dry, but like Spartan, he prepared to meet the machine he'd always intended to.
"It is time, old friend."
"Hell, yeah!" Khan snarled.
Both of them broke into a run, their shattered armour groaning as they surged towards the undefeated, yet badly damaged Guardian.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The old worlds of humanity would flourish, following the great rebuilding projects after the Biomech War. Earth in particular had been abandoned for so long its surviving citizens had little in common with those of the new world of Terra Nova and beyond. The first ships from Helios and T'Karan were celebrated by the exhausted and famished colonists. In a matter of a few short years the lives of these people would be transformed, as would the fabric of the planets themselves. Never again would the birthplace of humanity be relegated to such an ignominious fate.
Chronicles of Terra
IAS Titan in orbit around Hades, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan
The dropship twisted hard to one side and then lined up on its approach to the derelict. Out in front was the dormant vessel, still venting centuries of dust and debris out into space. A large rupture had ripped open a domed habitation section, as well as multiple smaller tears in its hull. The largest of these was the tagged landing zone, and right in the middle of the debris field.
Gun looked at the derelict with amazement. Never before had he seen such a vast artificial object that seemed as dead and dormant as this one. He wore his standard JAS armour, adorned with marks and items that were keepsakes from his many operations. There was even a blade fused to his chest plating, taken from the recent combat on Karnak. He clenched his fists and felt the reassuring feedback of the armour and its joints. There was little better to him than the feeling he received when encased in armour and heading into battle.
Not much longer.
A small counter showed how much time remained before IAS Euryale went critical and blasted everything for hundreds of kilometres. It now read just thirty-five minutes, and both he and everybody that had come with him knew just how little time that was. One single problem or error, and the lot of them could be killed. The tactical network flashed, and the faded image of General Black appeared above his eyes.
"Colonel, we've received orders to abandon the sector. They don't want to risk more when Euryale goes critical," said General Black.
Gun snorted.
"You know what they can do with those orders. They can cram them up..."
"I know, Gun, don't worry. I told them what they could do with the orders, and then some. We don't leave our people behind."
Gun smiled inside his armour, happy that the two of them were in agreement.
He's not bad as a commander, after all.
"Even so, Gun, we have to be quick. Get whomever you can find and then back to the ship. I don't want to lose the lot out here. This derelict has already cost us enough."
"Understood, General, we're on final approach. ETA sixty seconds to the last position of the Major."
A glance over his shoulder showed Olik, Knaprig, and Osk at his flanks. Further inside the dropship were another dozen Jötnar held into place by the heavy clamps. It had been one hell of a rush for the crew, but they had managed to remove most of the smaller tubes inside three dropships to launch Grunts, and made enough space to drop troops up to the size of Maverick armour marines. It was the only way the oversized boarding parties could get anywhere near the derelict in time, and to bring back survivors.
"Good work, Colonel. I've sent in Wictred to bring back the survivors on the transport. He's already aboard and has a head count of less than two-dozen. Captain Delatorre and Lieutenant Armstrong are among those brought out so far."
Gun listened carefully but said nothing. Though he cared about every one of them, there were two in particular he valued over all the others.
"We're also receiving distress signals from two others outside the derelict. I have drones heading for them now. It seems one is Kanjana and the second an injured marine."
Gun nodded as though the General was right next to him.
"There's something else, Gun. We're detecting no signs of life out there."
Gun hissed through his teeth, "I'm not leaving without my brothers. Spartan and Khan are coming back, dead or alive. They will not be left to burn. They would do the same for me."
His voice trailed off as he remembered the worst of the bloody fighting they'd been involved in.
"They already have."
The alarm sounded inside the dropship.
"Twenty seconds, prepare for drop."
Gun sent the signal to the General and then looked back to his comrades once more.
"We hit the ground running. Live rounds, and shoot first, ask questions later. Time is not our friend."
"Ten seconds."
There was no more time for talk, and Gun checked his weapon systems. His guns were active, as were the retractable blades on his arms. He performed one final systems check, and then tensed his body for the landing.
The dropship lifted up while continuing to move ahead on the same course, directly at the breached section on the derelict. Then the engines roared, and Gun could feel the massive shift in speed. They were now hurtling to the derelict at an ever-decreasing velocity, belly first.
"Release!" said the pilot.
Each of the tubes was fired like an ancient galleon firing a broadside. Gun opened his eyes and found he was heading to the breached derelict at nearly fifteen kilometres an hour. All around him were the shapes of the dozen Jötnar, all wearing the crimson coloured armour of the Red Watch. Chunks of small debris blocked his path, and he crashed through them and down a large open loading deck that had been vacated by the transport ship. A dozen airlock blast doors led inside, but he could already see hundreds of small holes punctured in the outer skin.
"She's depressurised. That makes our job easier."
Gun activated his shoulder-mounted gun and took aim.
The ceiling of the massive loading deck for the transport was covered in transports sections, slightly curved and presumably designed to allow those inside to see out into space. They were now grey with grime. He took aim at the nearest and opened fire. The others did the same and tore open four breaches. One by one they dropped through and crashed to the deck. Gun felt the impact from his feet and up through his spine, but the armour did its job to help cushion the impact.
"Check your corners."
Gun activated his lamps and scanned left and right. His comrades landed around him and readied their weapons. All of them were equipped with powerful lamps that burnt through the dust and debris around them. What surprised him was that there was still gravity inside the ship, even though there was no obvious sign of power. He shrugged and then spotted Olik pointing.
"Colonel, I've got something."
Normally, he would have used his informal name, but with the warriors of the Red Watch there, he made use of the official rank Gun now held. Gun looked through the long shadows and the scattered chunks of machine and saw a glint of gold.
"I see it. Spread out, and look for our people."
The Jötnar stepped away from where they'd landed and approached the shape cautiously. Gun noticed the bodies of marines as he neared it. He stepped over a fallen Maverick suit and snarled upon seeing the armour torn open all down the front, and the shattered body within.
Lieutenant Kipling.
Then Gun stopped and looked at the shape ahead. It was unlike anything he had expected. The thing was massive, bigger than any creature he'd ever seen, yet covered in armour from top to bottom. It was lifeless and had clearly sustained massive damage. There were gunshot wounds all over the thing, and chunks of armour had been ripped from its torso. There was as much of it lying smashed on the ground as there was still attached to it.
Somebody took this thing apart.
"Khan!" Osk cried out.
Gun glanced to his right as Osk and two other Jötnar pulled a smashed JAS suit from the creature. They managed a metre, but something stopped them getting further. Gun focussed his lamp on the thing and spotted Khan's armoured fists clamped around the plating of the enemy machine. Gun looked back at it and saw something else atop it, another armoured form, but this time a Maverick suit.
"Spartan!" he exclaimed joyously.
Gun's excitement was cut short as the massive thing began to shudder.
"Back, get back!" he yelled.
The Jötnar responded instantly and moved back into a crescent formation, facing the thing as it pushed up from the ground and back to its damaged feet. Khan remained attached to its torso via a jagged section of armour plating. Spartan hung down against its back with his arms jammed around its head. Lights activated all around the machine, and it seemed to stagger to life, ready for one final battle. Olik and Knaprig looked to Gun.
"Orders?"
Gun's mouth widened into a smile, "Kill it!"
* * *
Unidentified Derelict, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan
Spartan was barely conscious, and the cold crept inside his armour through five separate breaches. The internal systems did their best to compensate, but they were fighting a losing battle. His vision was gone and his hearing fading, yet still he refused to release. There was a sound, a radio transmission, or perhaps his failing mind. He opened his eyes, and there was the machine, still under him yet bucking and moving as it struggled to escape. Spartan felt the rage building inside him even though his body was barely capable of functioning.
"Spartan!"
The voice was inside his helmet, a communication of some kind. He tried to concentrate and opened his parched mouth to speak.
"Gun?"
"Yes!"
Spartan twisted his neck and looked to the left. He expected to see the Guardian's arm, but there was a line of Jötnar, and each of them was running towards the machine. It was like an image from a dream, with a dozen crimson warriors, their blades out and their guns blasting. Then he was falling and crashing into the ground.
"On your feet, marine!"
Somebody helped him move, and by the time he could feel his limbs working he was on his feet and amongst them.
"Spartan, help us finish this," said Olik.
Spartan was still stunned, but the suit continued pumping adrenalin and drugs into his system, giving him what he needed for one final push. He took a step and almost collapsed, but the flashing light from the myriad of guns seemed to fire him up. A pair of Jötnar was helping up khan, and then Spartan saw the Guardian.
It really does look like a metal giant.
The painting he'd seen in the derelict showed the thing as a golden giant, a loyal guardian and friend. Now it was a top-heavy fighting machine, with a head and torso that were greatly oversized. With much of the armour lost, the motor drives and pistons were easy to see, as well as the flashing power core at the centre of its body. It swung one of its arms and struck a Jötnar who took the impact in the chest. As the warrior staggered back, Gun stabbed his blades into the machine’s arm and blasted it with his firearms. At his feet was the broken shape of Corporal John Evans; the metal spike still embedded in his body.
The hammer fists on the Maverick armour partially activated, but Spartan didn't care.
"You...you bastard machine!"
Spartan staggered towards it just as a pair of Jötnar disabled one of its legs. The Guardian crashed to the ground, and its left arm detached completely. Even as it tried to get back up, the other Jötnar went to work on it, as if they were demolishing a damaged building.
Spartan reached its upper body and slammed his fists into it, one after the other. All around him the Jötnar did what they did best, and hacked, stabbed, shot, and smashed the thing in a relentless barrage of attacks. In less than twenty seconds it was torn apart, with chunks of metal, gold colour plating, and pieces of motor scattered all around them.
"Finally," said Khan.
Spartan threw down a section he was holding and found Khan holding the head in his arms. It was twice the size of a Jötnar, and a third of it had been broken away, revealing the circuitry inside. Khan dropped it and brought his metal foot down hard, shattering it. He then dropped to one knee, but not before Spartan had reached him and grabbed onto him. Above them the bright lights of a dropship shone through the gaps in the ceiling. They were like large search beams, looking for targets. Gun stomped towards them, with Osk, Knaprig, and Olik at his flanks.
"Hold on, old friend. We're getting out of here."
* * *
IAS Titan, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan
Spartan sank back into the comfort of the seat on the bridge of the ship and watched the shrinking view of the derelict. At his side was Khan and Gun, both out of their massive suits of JAS armour and in their normal fatigues. Even so, both still managed to carry sections of extra armour about their bodies, giving them the look of a post apocalyptical warband. Khan, though scarred from the battle seemed to barely notice the damage he'd sustained, a quality Spartan wished he could obtain. He looked over to Gun and nodded thankfully.
"Dammed good timing, Gun. Another thirty minutes and we would have been fried. I owe you one."
More figures entered the bridge, Captain Delatorre, with Five-Seven and Kanjana behind him.
"We all owe you one, Colonel," said Captain Delatorre.
The man stopped in front of Gun and saluted smartly.
"I thought we were all dead out there."
He shook his head, still not believing what had happened. Five-Seven helped Kanjana who stumbled and almost lost her balance. The Thegn moved her closer to where Spartan had been sitting. Spartan indicated for Kanjana to take it. She lifted her hand to refuse and Spartan scowled.
"I insist, Major's prerogative."
Another figure moved from further back on the bridge, where he'd been speaking with the deck officers. He moved quickly, stopping before Spartan and Gun.
Spartan shrugged.
"Not all of us, Sir. It took a lot of good people with it."
General Black nodded and exhaled.
"Understood. A messy job, I know. Still, I'm glad some of you made it out of that hellhole. Nonetheless, based on what we achieved, the Klithi are keen to assist and promote the development of the IAB. They have pledged to fully fund us for another ten years, if we are able to provide a rapid response to similar problems in the future.”
He leaned in closer.
“And that means less reliance upon financing from CTC. At this rate we may prove capable of self-funding within six months, and based upon the Alliance budget cuts, this will be key to our operations. As our capabilities increase, so will their desire to use us.”
He moved back to his original position.
“The Alliance is going to need us...I'm going to need you, and soon. Get back and prepare the latest batch of marines. They are due to arrive from jungle training on Hyperion.”
Gun snarled as he listened.
“We are going to need more than new recruits. I want compensation from High Command. We dealt with this situation, with only the Red Watch to show for Alliance assistance.”
He scratched at his nose, and then continued.
“Get us something, General. Get me something.”
He looked at Spartan as he spoke.
“There’s one thing we want, and it will benefit everybody, especially the Alliance. It’s time for the IAB and our operation out here to be enlarged, and I have some ideas on how we can do that."
General Black raised his eyebrows.
“That’s a big ask, Gun. They cannot simply send more resources to us when we want them."
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