Ghost Soldiers (24 page)

"We've got it on the run. Don't stop now!"

The machine managed to release its other arm and struck Khan so that he fell to the ground. Even as he hit the solid surface, he was still firing, his Gatling gun filling the air with projectiles. The thing's arm swung again and Khan ducked. He avoided the strike, but a following marine ran right into its path and was hit by the large flat section of serrated metal. The decapitation was instantaneous, and the crumpled remains of the marine fell down onto its stomach.

"Keep moving, shoot and strike, as one."

They took repeated blows from the machine, but nothing would stop their relentless assault. Each blow weakened the machine until finally it retreated back towards the pit, eager to avoid the terrible attacks inflicted by the three heavies. Spartan opened fired again and again, revealing the gleaming gold beneath the chest plating. He struck up hard, an uppercut that would have shattered the skull of any living creature. The impact sent a pulse of blue energy through the machine, and it shuddered.

"Yeah, you like that?"

The machine shook again, but then noticed the three had paused, perhaps surprised by the flashing of energy. Sensing an opportunity, it swung out and caught Khan off balance. He tipped over, and before he could right himself, another blow sent him flying to the edge.

"Khan!"

Spartan instantly moved back from the fight, automatically looking to help his friend. The machine took the moment of hesitation as the weakness for what it was, and swung the hunk of metal at Sergeant Tyler. He caught the impact on his arms and was knocked out, perhaps even killed. Another swing and the piece hit Spartan on the left arm. Then another until he'd stumbled back to the bodies of the marines and broken lances.

"Spartan," hissed the machine.

The sound came through unseen speakers. The pronunciation was off, but it was a close approximation to the words of Khan, and presumably an imitation intended to weaken his resolve. It moved towards Spartan, dragging its partially inoperative leg. Sparks flashed all around its body, and with each step more of its armour dropped off. Spartan looked for his friend and could see Khan trying to pull himself off the edge of the pit. He took half a step towards him.

"No, Spartan, finish it. Kill it, now!"

Spartan took aim and fired; once again the cannon failed to fire. His constant use had overloaded it so far that it was now inoperative. Both his arm-mounted coilgun systems were out of ammunition, and the servos in his left arm were starting to fail.

No, not this way.

He looked back and found bodies of his comrades, but no weapons. The ground shook as the machine moved faster and faster towards him, and at that point, Spartan spotted the lance, still embedded in one of the marines. He sidestepped over to it and yanked as hard as he could. The blood-covered weapon released, and he was left holding the two metre-long section of hardened metal. As he turned around, the machine was just three metres away.

We end this, today!

Spartan lifted the lance with both hands and charged at it, the tip pointing up at where its head should be. Just as they were to make contact, the machine lifted its arms, keen to beat the weapon aside. Spartan intentionally dropped the tip, using the classic disengagement technique, and then drove it in hard under the exposed chest armour. The tip punched in deeply inside its golden hide, helped by the mass and speed of the charging machine. Then the hall erupted in a bright flash, and Spartan was cast high into the air, before crashing to the ground in a heap of battered metal.

* * *

IAS Titan in orbit around Hades, T’Karan System

The rendezvous point was several days away from the Admiral Jarvis Naval Station, but it was the best location to meet the volunteers Osk had been assembling. Multiple Alliance ships lurked near the pulsing Spacebridge connecting the T'Karan System with Proxima Centauri and the heart of the Alliance. The star systems between two parts of space were one of the most important strategic locations ever discovered, and the gateway to the worlds of the Orion Nebula. An hour earlier, three small transports came through, along with a squadron of Alliance Hammerhead fighters. At the same time, a pair of large shuttles had launched from the moon of Hades and made for IAS Titan. Now shuttles from both groups had landed and were surrounded by steam as they waited on the operations level.

"How much longer?"

Gun paced about patiently on the operation level, his irritation obvious even without hearing the words coming from his mouth. Further away, out on the long deck were the sealed areas marking where four shuttles hand landed. One from Hades had jammed against a broken bulkhead upon arrival, and now the outer hatch was stuck. Until cleared, they would be unable to activate the engines and make for Sector Sixteen. The jammed doorway was now a gaping wound; one that could halt the mission before it even began. A group of four engineers ran past, all carrying heavy cutting equipment. They were wearing full naval issue PDS armour to allow them to operate in the vacuum on the other sides of the double-skinned doors. Gun called out after them.

"Chief, we have to get them inside. Spartan is relying on us. How much longer?"

Chief Engineer Simpson turned around and then signalled for the other three to continue.

"Ten minutes to clear the door. Then we can leave."

Gun shook his head and waved him off.

"Then don't waste time talking to me!"

The deck was wide, though oddly shaped, due to the deck being narrower than the tall ceiling. Even so, it looked more like the deck of an ancient aircraft carrier, with lifts at key points and multiple motorised racks to carry equipment, weapons, and ammunition. Dropships were fitted on cradles and being lifted up into the wider storage areas one level above. Gun heard noise behind him and turned around to gaze upon the figures of Olik and Knaprig. Both were dressed in their usual garb, an odd mix of IAB uniform, mixed with extra plates and decorations from Hyperion. They looked more like monstrous bandits from an apocalyptical tale than the foot soldiers of the Brigade.

"About time you showed up."

Olik nodded at something in the distance.

"What?" Gun asked.

Knaprig then pointed, raising his left arm just a little. Gun was sure he could hear the servos helping to move his shattered, but still functioning body. Gun's eyes followed the group approaching from the far end of the ship, and his face lit up. He counted them as they neared.

"Twenty-four. Perfect."

They were now just ten metres away, and as they moved along the ship, Thegns, IAB officers, and crew backed off as though they were nothing more than slaves, moving away at the arrival of their massive masters. In reality, it was not fear, or even respect. It was simply necessary to get out of the way for the group of warriors to be able to pass, twenty-four clanking creatures, and each as big and monstrous as Gun and his two comrades.

"Gun, look," said Knaprig, "They made it."

The dozens of Thegns and IAB crew were now well out of the way as the group of Jötnar approached. The warriors were dressed in their dark crimson armour, something unique to the feared Red Watch, an elite military formation based on the fiery Alliance world of Prometheus. They continued until just a short distance away from Gun.

"Osk," said Gun.

The warrior removed its helmet, and beneath it was the narrower, paler face of a female warrior. She smiled and moved close, grasping Gun's arm.

"It's been a long time."

Gun nodded in agreement, but before he could speak, Knaprig had already bound forward to grab her. They embraced for some time, with Gun and the others looking on impatiently. Finally, they separated, and Gun shook his head in irritation.

"What did you bring me?"

Osk spun about so that she faced the rest of her warriors. Now Gun, Knaprig, and Olik could get a better look at them. They were of the same build and height, but their armour was much less substantial that the JAS gear used on the ship. They wore a special version of the PDS armour commonly used by marines. It was close fitting and incredibly well manufactured.

"Two squads from Prometheus, half of them are new bloods looking to their first operation. They are just under eight years old and already fully matured and experienced."

Gun seemed pleased at this news and looked back to Olik and Knaprig.

"A new generation, born naturally, not manufactured. This, my friends, this is the future for our people."

He spoke the words as though they would not have known, but it was from a mixture of pride and pleasure that he said them. The four of them, including Osk, had been artificially created as synthetic killing machines back in the Uprising. More than three decades had passed since those bloody days, and only now was the population of Jötnar on the increase. Osk pointed at several of the new recruits.

"They are maturing at double the rate of the humans, and they are not far from fully developed, both physically and mentally. Already, and with the help of Alliance technicians, we are improving the birth rate."

Gun looked a little uncomfortable at that.

"Be careful, Osk. One day we are a problem to the Alliance, and the next day an asset, but always an expendable. Is Anderson helping with this?"

Osk nodded.

"Of course. He has always been a friend of the Jötnar. Over a hundred of our females have been tested so far, and those capable of breeding have been fully screened. My estimates show our combat losses since the Uprising can be replaced in twelve months and with them reaching maturity in eight years."

Gun rubbed his chin.

"Yes, very interesting."

Osk then nodded to the slightly larger shapes of the older Jötnar.

"I also brought a dozen of our old guard, some of which fought with us back in the war."

Gun was already looking at them, their visors now lifted so he could see their faces. To anybody else it might have seemed a modest number, but it would have been hard to find a single soul aboard IAS Titan that would dare think, let alone say that. A single Jötnar warrior could match an entire Marine Corps squad, more if properly armoured and equipped. Their tolerances to pain and injury were legendary, as was their strength and speed. To date, it had proven impossible to find their weakness. The simple reality was that they were better than the average human in almost every conceivable way. Compared to a human, their facial muscles were oversized, giving them a grotesque, troll like appearance, but there was still much diversity between them. Some were paler than others, while some of the younger Jötnar had even begun to grow hair, something Gun had never expected.

"So, you younger warriors are looking for a fight, are you?"

They nodded or struck their chests as he spoke, and Gun had to hold back from laughing. They might have looked mature, but he could already see they were far from the calmer, more seasoned warriors Osk had brought. He was glad there was a mix. Youth and experience in one unit was a potent mixture.

"Colonel, we're ready."

Gun walked up to the tall, pale skinned warrior. At first glance he might have been one of the older of the group, but there was one subtle difference that showed him to be something different. The Jötnar had grown a beard, and Gun was feeling a little envious. The first generation of Jötnar had been grown in tanks, fully synthetic but based upon a rolling genetic mixture to give variety in strength, intelligence, and speed.

"Interesting, very interesting."

He looked at the hair and was tempted to touch it, but restrained himself. The style was little different to the unkempt shape Spartan seemed to follow these days, and he looked at the others. To his amusement, he noticed each sported a completely different style. One thing all of them had in common was the colour, bright white, as pale as the skin of an Anicinàbe female.

"Very well. There is a chance we will arrive, and Khan and Spartan will have cleared up their mess."

He began walking down the double line of massive warriors.

"But...if for any reason we are needed, I will expect nothing short of calm, control...and utter violence."

That drew the response he expected from the group.

"The enemy is unlike any we have faced before, and if Spartan is facing difficulty fighting it, then we can be certain it will make the Biomechs seem like undeveloped children."

The Jötnar were not overly concerned, but he could see that every one of them was very interested. There was then a loud crashing sound. They all turned around to see the Chief Engineer stagger backwards and nearly fall over. There was a loud hiss, a clunk, and then doors opened up to reveal the shuttle from Hades. They watched in silence until finally the door opened, and down from the ramp came ten warriors of similar build to those that Osk had brought.