Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift (37 page)

Spartan turned away and pointed to the battle raging throughout the Helios Sector.

"We have drawn them all here. Some of The Twelve will be here, on this ship to command the bandon."

The machine shuddered and approached him. It extended one of its limbs to touch him.

"And the others?"

"If we make this the focus of the battle, then they will come. They cannot afford to ignore our other ships. The new Biomantas are picking off any ship firing on us. It will take too long to destroy us, and time is a luxury only we have."

"What do you suggest?"

Spartan looked at Thayara and then to the machine.

"You take command of the ship. Stay here and direct the battle. I will join Thayara and lead the Ghost Warriors into the heart of their boarding party."

He then pointed to the machine.

"Send in Biorays from the Ravagers. Hit their capital ships with assault teams. That will stop them sending in more help. Keep them busy and their attention away from what is happening."

"And what of The Twelve?"

Spartan laughed at the question.

"Trust me, when they know I am here and killing their allies, they will come. Don't forget, I slew their leader in front of you."

Spartan turned away and made it a few meters before Thayara stopped him. She looked back to One-Zero-One.

"Do you have footage of the death of the heretic?"

A blue sphere appeared alongside the machine and then a slightly grainy model of Spartan and the machines popped up. The death of the noble leader of the rebels could be clearly seen, as could Spartan.

"Good. Send that out on all channels. It should be enough to motivate them."

Spartan pushed her away and continued toward the edge of the exposed plinth. He balanced right on the edge before turning his gaze to them.

"Do what you want. It is actions that will end this, not words."

With those bitter words, he leapt from the raised position and sailed down. It took several seconds before he crashed feet first to the ground. The pistons groaned under the weight of the impact, and then he was upright and in the middle of the columns of Ghost Warriors.

"Thayara, with me. Let's end this, today!"

The lithe female warrior leapt from the same tall balcony and twisted about in a balletic fashion before landing just five meters from him. Her feet struck the ground with enough force to leave deep gouges in its surface.

"Warriors!" she cried out.

A loud screaming sound of ancient metal moving on tortured cogs marked the release of the bars holding the armor in place. As each rod of metal slid back, another Ghost Warrior stepped out from its resting place. Dozens and dozens of them were freed until after less than a minute the entire complement of seventy-five were ready. Hundreds more of the heavily armed Thegns moved out from a myriad of passageways and secret walkways throughout the ship.

"Spartan!" called out One-Zero-One from his position up high, “Our ships are being pressed. The Byotai have destroyed one of our ancient battleships. Seventy-five of my kin are lost forever.”

Spartan looked to Thayara and to the machine.

“I thought you could to send in another Ghost warrior?”

One-Zero-One said something unintelligible, clearly an insult.

“No. Only those with a place among our ancestors are safe from death. The others, the Defeated, they must earn their place by defeating the enemy before being granted such an honor.”

Spartan moved two steps and looked back.

“Like you?”

“The three of us have been granted this honor. Do not waste it.”

Spartan wasn’t quite sure what this meant, but the vibrations for multiple hits to the ship pulled his attention back to the fight. He left at a quick pace while One-Zero-one called after him.

“The enemy are causing heavier than expected causalities. There is a chance they could match us and fight to a draw.”

Spartan looked up at the machine.

"Just keep us in the fight. Bring in the reinforcements and smash them. You deal with the fleet; I’ll deal with the intruders."

He didn't bother checking to see if the machine had heard, let alone acknowledged his orders. Instead, Spartan marched out, with Thayara beside him, and a long column of biomechanical warriors following right behind. He'd never paid much attention to the internal layout of the ship, yet as they walked the details popped up like newly loaded software. The schematic inside his armor showed all of his warriors, as well as the known positions for the enemy.

“So, we get a mystical free pass to live with the ancestors. Mean anything to you?”

Thayara sighed.

“Spartan, I really do not care. We have a battle to win. I say we head for their landing sites at the bow. Cut them off and then work our way back. They will be trapped and easily overrun."

Spartan nodded in agreement.

"Good plan. Take half with you and hit them hard."

Thayara stopped and turned back to him.

"And what about you?"

"Two-thirds of their troops are coming down the central spine and making their way to the battle deck. I'm going to meet them right in the middle."

He tagged the location in the center of the ship, and Thayara instantly recognized it. The shape was a vast dome, surrounded by high viewing platforms and entry points to a hundred different tunnels through the vessel.

"The training arena?" she asked.

"Yeah, we'll end this the way it started."

She split away from him, and three files of Ghost Warriors followed her. There was little, if any way to tell them apart, but for now they operated under their joint command. Spartan imagined it wouldn't take much for them to revert to their normal programming.

"With me," he snarled.

Spartan left at such a pace, only the Thegns could initially keep up with him. They passed two separate sets of ammunition stores and the secondary weapon deck before moving to a massive ramp. It was wide enough to land an escort warship on, and the ceiling must have been at least fifty meters from the ground.

* * *

Kha’Dri, Taxxu, Uncharted Space

The Biomech commander watched the stable Rift without flinching. Hundreds more ships waited patiently for their orders. The Rift flickered, and flashes and sparks rippled along the Rift Engine positioned inside the bridge in space and time.

The fools, they think they can control our Spacebridges. At this point, all they can do is be a nuisance. They are too late.

The Rift Engines, the mightiest vessels in their entire arsenal, dwarfed even the battleships. Groups of ancient Biomantas circled them as though they expected trouble.

The Defeated, ever watchful of themselves.

The machine looked to the cocoon and felt a wave of resentment, tinged with responsibility. As the youngest, he was expected to do more than their kin had managed in the past. He was no different to any of the other so-called Ghost Warriors. Even the one called One-Zero-One was little different, but to him only their history mattered. Along with the other five, he was the most sacred of less than a thousand remaining Kybernetes, the ancient steersmen of old.

What would they say?
he wondered.

He wanted to speak with them, to seek their advice. But to do so would be to consign his race to the present age. Encased in machines they could live for centuries, and inside the confines of an ancient Ark like Kha’Dri, they could rest their immortal remains for several thousand years. After that, they could only ever expect to live inside the confines of the ancient Core. Even thinking about the Core, that ancient tomb that sat deep inside Kha’Dri, sent a chill through his own ancient body.

I must seek their wisdom.

He was tempted to contact them, to explain his plan for their victory and salvation. But a nagging doubt, a fear that the Defeated might fail stayed his hand. The honor of joining them in the Core was a gift granted to few, and there was nothing he wanted more than to live alongside his ancient comrades once more.

I will wait until I have news. I must show myself as worthy.

That wasn’t a problem, but there was always a chance the invasion might fail, in which case he would have marked his entire species for extinction.

No, it is enough to risk one of us to end this. I have to succeed.

The interior of Kha’Dri, the last remaining operational World Ship of his race was a vessel of awe, even to him. His ancestors had used such vessels to travel vast distances and to colonize worlds, while maintaining the wisdom of those that had passed on long before. Now just two remained and the other, known by its sacred name of Du'Li had been abandoned followed the murder of its occupants in the uprising with The Twelve. Now its hulk drifted around Taxxu, a constant reminder of the betrayal and the war that had split their race apart. Even its Core lay shattered, the memories and thoughts of a billion Ancients lost to war.

We are the last six of the living Ancients. The last that retain mortal flesh and remember the days before the colonization of these worlds. We will use their flesh to rebuild our people, to create a new generation of flesh and metal. The enemy will be destroyed, and their very essence used to breathe life into our people. We will return, and I will be remembered for it.

A blue sphere flickered in front of him with the shape of a machine.

“One-Zero-One. Have you completed your mission? Have the Defeated redeemed themselves?”

“Soon,” said the machine.

Even though they were separated by thousands of light years, the machine still felt a need to cow down before him.

Good, the Defeated still know their place.

“The enemy is strong. Our forces are evenly matched. I need…”

The imagery broke up at just the same time as energy from the Helion weapon struck the Rift. It didn’t last long, but its affect annoyed the machine disproportionately.

“Fools!” snapped back the ancient machine, “Their ships are broken, their crew exhausted, and they are outnumbered. Yet still you bleat for help?”

He turned his back on the imagery and instead looked to the rest of the Defeated, the remnants of the last war that wait for their orders. He despised them, those that had fled instead of fight. They were no different to him, other than being younger and more importantly, the survivors of the great defeat.

The Exiles have done their part without question, but the Defeated always want more. They can never succeed without bleating for help.

He looked back to One-Zero-One and noticed that the machine had fallen dormant for a second.

The Rift, he is unable to communicate with his Ghost Warrior. He should have kept his soul aboard the ship instead of with us. He has no place among us on Kha’Dri.

The machine began to move and then spoke.

“They have an active defense weapon on Helios Prime. Our ground forces will renew their assault within the hour.”

“This is irrelevant. They cannot fire continually. Keep fighting. I will send in the rest of the Defeated. You will end this…today, or die in the attempt.”

“What of the Great Seal, my lord? If they can collapse it, I will be unable to control this battle. Spartan and the others will also be unable to…”

“Your whining offends me. You have no place here on Kha’Dri. Your fate will rest with the other Defeated. I am sending for your mortal remains to be sent across the Great Seal to join you on your ship. See this as an incentive. Now go!”

He disconnected the communication channel and waited for the ships to begin their journey. It took some time, but finally the second wave of ships was making its way through the Rift. He then accessed the ancient computing Core and checked the location of the newly added flesh. He moved through them and isolated One-Zero-One.

There you are.

With a simple order, the machinery began the process of transferring the machine’s ancient remains to an automated transport.

Now, what of the others?

He began to look for the other souls as they called them. Before he could get much further, a report arrived from One-Zero-One’s battleship. He staggered back at what he had seen.

The traitors, they have joined battle.

The memory of the destruction of Du'Li still felt fresh. The loss of the machinery and Ghost Warrior bodies was one thing, but it was the destruction of the mortal remains of hundreds of his kin that still stunned him. The rebels had vaporized even the ancient Core in a final bloody action before they had escaped.

They must be destroyed.

With that thought, he cancelled the transfer of One-Zero-One.

Perhaps I will grant you a final chance for salvation. Destroy the traitors, and your position on Kha’Dri and of immortality will be yours. You remains will stay with us, and when your time comes, we will consider your transfer to the last great Core.