Star Crusades Nexus: Book 07 - Battle for Helios Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Battle for HELIOS

  STAR CRUSADES NEXUS, BOOK 7

  By Michael G. Thomas

  Part of the STAR CRUSADES series

  Second Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Michael G. Thomas

  Published by Swordworks Books

  The official Star Crusades website:

  www.starcrusader.com

  The official Facebook Page:

  https://www.facebook.com/starcrusader

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lieutenant Commander Sanlav Erdeniz was one of the unsung heroes of the Uprising. Starting as a lowly gunnery officer, he went on to develop the short-ranged railgun ammunition that would forever bear his name. His time aboard the Confederate warship CCS Crusader would pale compared to what happened at Yama City. Then a Captain, he led a group of survivors during the hostile takeover by the Echidna Union. In a matter of weeks, his forces waged a successful guerilla war against the enemy, and in the process saved hundreds of thousands of lives. Two decades later, the Lieutenant Commander was once again working with the Alliance Science Division, and this time his efforts had moved from weapons of war to the great secrets of the Rift generator equipment.

  Heroes of the Great Uprising

  Comet C34, now codenamed Leviathan was a massive object, the largest ever faced by an Alliance attack force. Its bulk consisted not just of the Core but also the myriad of smaller chunks, many as large as ancient battleships. Millions of smaller pieces followed, each held onto its path by the gentle pull exerted by the Core. It moved at high speed on its elliptical pattern that had originally taken it well away from the Helion homeworld. Now, after all these centuries, the so-called Doomsday Comet was back and only a short distance away from the newly dedicated Helios Prime, the restored capital of the Helion League, and the Nexus for this part of the Orion Nebula. The naming ceremony had been a grand affair but it was nothing more than a branding exercise. The same problems remained, and Helios Prime, like its sibling planets in the same system were all still recovering from the violent insurrection started by the Zathee.

  “This is Mauler A7. We are in position,” said Captain Josevi Garcia.

  It was a short, if direct announcement from the vessel. The Maulers were the only manned craft in the Alliance assault group. Just a few minutes away from the target, the massive group of tiny aircraft was no bigger than grains of sand compared to the comet. The Mauler was the largest and stayed well back to the rear of the group. Inside, it was filled with computers and communications equipment plus a dozen officers; each carefully trained and practiced in the command and control of semi-autonomous robotics. There was a brief moment of static.

  “Good work. The mission is a go. Send in the birds.”

  It was the sound of Admiral Lewis, the commander of the Helion Fleet. The man was a long distance away where he waited with the fleet. Captain Garcia looked out through the narrow slits on the front of the heavily armored Mauler and to the shape of the comet. It looked more like a moon at this close range. He’d volunteered for this mission, and he knew the risks. If Operation Needle failed, then it would be just Admiral Lewis and the fleet to protect Helios Prime. He looked back to the seated officers, each of them waiting for the word.

  “Send in squadrons one through seven.”

  Forty-two craft of the initial attack comprised the bulk of the newly arrived X57 Avenger combat drones. Only six stayed back to guard the command Mauler and the two delivery Maulers, all carrying the primary weapons for the mission.

  The drones had only just been delivered from the shipyards on Prometheus. Although new, they required no previous knowledge or training. All that came from a mixture of software and the skills and experience of the officers in the Mauler commanding them.

  Captain Garcia watched from his view in the cockpit as the enormous swarm of drones rushed off ahead of him. They seemed large for only a few seconds and then shrank to pinpricks. Though a similar size to a medium-sized fighter, the X57 carried much heavier weapons and thicker armor. These robotic fighters were propelled not by one, but eight small engines, four on each of the bat shaped wings. The center of the craft would normally have been taken up by the crew and life support systems; instead it housed a massive quadruple barreled railgun. After years of research, an entire frigate gun system had been miniaturized enough to fit inside a single craft.

  “What’s your status, Captain?” asked the Admiral.

  “Sir, the first wave is moving in. I’m holding the package in reserve.”

  “Good hunting. Do what you can. We’re running out of options.”

  The swarm of robots split up in six-fighter squadrons and used their lateral thrusters to move further apart while maintaining their existing course. Nearer they moved, leaving nothing but a gentle, barely perceivable stream behind them. Captain Garcia almost believed the mission would succeed when they reached the first waypoint.

  “Captain, I’ve got contacts!” said the tactical officer.

  Before he could reply, the electronics warfare officer called out nervously.

  “Heavy signal jamming and emissions coming from inside the Core. They’re trying to block our control.”

  Captain Garcia had expected this, however.

  “Switch to line-of-sight laser control only. Activate the autonomous package.”

  “Sir.”

  All of this would have seemed unnecessary, had Captain Garcia been able to jump ahead just three minutes. The planning, preparing, arming, and tactics would all have seemed simple folly. But none of this mattered, because the X57s were now halfway to the target. The deadly robotic fighters activated their weapon systems and spun up their primary guns. That was when the comet turned from an inanimate object and into a weapon of devastating power.

  “Radiation bloom, something is powering up,” said the tactical officer.

  Six drones vanished in fireballs as precision attacks from hidden particle beam emitters vaporized the craft. They vanished from the Mauler’s scanners as soon as they were hit. Captain Garcia felt the nausea hit him and for a brief moment was stunned into inaction. His training kicked in though, and he reverted to routine until his mind settled.

  “Target assessment, what are we facing?”

  “Uh…multiple particle emitters have deployed, and I’m detecting gun systems deploying along the flanks of the comet. Wait…no…it can’t be…”

  Captain Garcia looked back to th
e small cadre of officers, but it was clear from the looks on their faces that the mission was going far from well.

  “Captain, launch bays are opening. We have incoming targets. I read three cruiser class ships and ten, no twenty-six fighters.”

  The man turned about in his seat to look toward the cockpit.

  “They must have been waiting for us, Sir.”

  Captain Garcia sighed and wiped his brow.

  “We’re here, and we have a job to do. Squadrons one through four engage their fighters; the rest clear a corridor to the target. It’s time to release the packages.”

  The warfare officers directed their robots into battle with great speed and skill. Even as the fighters from both sides engaged in a massed dogfight, the X57s proved more than equal to the task. The following Maulers opened up their bomb bays to expose the bank of four long-range standoff missiles. The original plan had been to launch then from long distance, but that was now clearly the wrong decision. The missile racks lowered underneath the Maulers and opened the release ports.

  “Sir, all missiles are locked, armed, and ready.”

  Captain Garcia’s memory flashed back to the briefing six hours earlier. It had been the last time they were able to discuss the plan in detail. He recalled the scientists explaining about where the nuclear weapons would need to impact to cause the fissures. It was complex, but he’d left the targeting to them. His job was simple, to get the package to the target and to release it.

  “And the depth penetrators?”

  “Also ready, Sir.”

  “Then launch them, now!”

  Not one officer questioned his orders, and the signal was spread throughout the strike force. First to launch were the inert penetrators. At first glance, they looked like any other missile, but in reality were slightly bulkier and built for impact only. Made from a combination of hardened alloy, they would strike the target first to create an impact crater deep enough to insert the nuclear weapons. The sixteen projectiles screeched off from the Maulers and toward the comet.

  “All Maulers return to the fallback position. It’s time for the machines to do their work.”

  The three manned craft banked away from the battle and accelerated from the unfolding dogfight. Half of the Avengers had been crippled or lost, but they were doing their job. Over twenty Biomech fighters had been destroyed, and the missiles were on their way. Captain Garcia watched their progress and almost believed it would work. First one missile vanished from his scanner. Then one by one they vanished into dust as the particle emitters based around the comet vaporized them in seconds. The attack was over before it had even begun.

  “Sir, the remaining drones?” asked the tactical officer.

  Captain Garcia lowered his face into his hands. The only good thing he could think of was that at least they’d only lost machines, not fighter pilots.

  “They can’t escape now. How many are left?”

  “Just seventeen, Sir.”

  “Very well. Send them in close to the comet. Collate as much data as you can on their weapons, firing patterns, and capabilities. Anything we can learn may help us later.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The man turned away and sent the commands to the other officers. Once the last had gone he looked back.

  “Sir, what do you mean, later? We’re going to hit them again, right?”

  Captain Garcia swiveled about in his chair and shook his head.

  “Based on this course and velocity? I don’t think so. Admiral Lewis is assembling everything we have. If you ask me, this whole thing is now going to be decided in orbit over Helios Prime. The Admiral is going to have to draw his line in the sand, and Helios Prime is that line.”

  * * *

  The Biomech lander screamed overhead at a height of no more than a hundred meters. Even as it vanished into the distance, Wictred tracked the movement of its flank gun turrets. They moved about in quick jerks of movements, much like the way a bird would twist its head about. The right-side turret tracked back almost enough to point at him and then it was gone.

  Close.

  The heat from its engines registered inside Wictred’s helmet, but he knew it would be foolish to even consider moving. Once he was sure it had moved away, he looked back at his small unit. They were spread out and using any cover they could find as they entered the outskirts of the small town.

  Ten seconds earlier, and they would have had us.

  He could feel a sickness in his stomach, one of fear. It wasn’t of injury or even death. It was the fear of risking and losing those that were left. Wictred wasn’t an officer, but right now he was effectively their commander, and it was a very heavy burden for such a young marine. The unit moved off the street and past the derelict guard post marking the entrance to the place. There were a number of abandoned vehicles dotted about, but it was the large military truck that he had in his sights.

  “I’m going in,” he said over the intercom.

  Increasing his speed, the towering figure of Wictred lurched ahead until he reached the rear of the truck. Feeling exposed, he took cover behind the remains of the wreckage as best as he could. The markings down its flanks showed it had been a New Helion Army truck, at least during some part of its life. Hiding behind the vehicle was no easy feat, due to his size and armor, but at least the truck was one of the larger vehicles used by the NHA. He moved carefully, avoiding stepping on the broken pieces of metal lying about that might make a noise and give away his position. He paused and glanced briefly at the vehicle, taking in as much information as he could. He estimated the size was somewhere in the region of twice as large as a Bulldog and much more heavily built. The design of the armor plating suggested it had been retrofitted and was actually a lightly modified civilian vehicle rather than something purpose built.

  “Stay low, move up.”

  Two of his marines sprinted across the open ground to join him, and then moved past him to take up their positions at the end of the long vehicle. Neither carried much in the way of heavy weapons, but the taller of them did have one of the older L48 rifles. Back in the Uprising, they had been the standard issue weapons but were now relegated to use as a support gun. Wictred moved a short distance behind them and checked the lower sections of the truck as they continued onward.

  Yeah, that’s where the mine got them.

  The lower part of the bodywork and part of the underside had been blown out by something in the ground. Wictred bent down and spotted the crater underneath the truck. An Alliance vehicle would have been much better protected with its combination of layered plating and a v-shaped hull. Years of fighting in the Uprising had shown a need for simple vehicles that could withstand a variety of attacks using improvised weapons. He moved on a little further and looked at a line of holes the size of his arm that ran alongside the left side. Not far from the mine damage were several areas of congealed blood, marking the spot where its crew had once been. The entire side had been torn out by an explosive shell, and tracks marked where either the bodies or prisoners had been taken.

  Idiots, all of them! They tried to get out and instead lost most of their soldiers. They should have waited for help.

  He did feel some sympathy for them, but he felt more for the rest of his unit who’d spent the last four days trekking across open country to the town. According to the last contact from Colonel Gun, this was one of the many remaining civilian outposts with an intact NHA garrison. The one thought that kept coming back to him though, was that these could have been the reinforcements. In which case, the town would be under enemy control. He looked back to the town and checked for heat or movement readings via his visor. It took only a few seconds to do a full scan, and as before, it came back negative.

  So what will we find in there, machines, Helions, Khreenk, or just bodies?

  The town had been the nearest Helion location, and even though they’d been unable to reach the place via line-of-sight communication, they had made the arduous journey. He hadn’t told t
he others, but this was the only plan he could come up with. It was either that, or stay out in the open, and just hope somebody would find them who didn’t want to kill them. That wasn’t Wictred’s style. He would rather risk it all in some dramatic firefight than lose his people one by one to heat, starvation, and even radiation sickness. A blip caught his attention but vanished just as quickly as he’d spotted it.

  “Any contact yet?”

  Lance Corporal James shook his head. The young man had proven a natural ally to Wictred, and there was little they disagreed on in terms of their short-term plan on Eos.

  “Nothing, Corporal. It’s like there’s nobody out there.”

  Wictred turned back and looked at the shape of the town. It was small, home to perhaps no more than five hundred people, and based around the wide road that ran down one side. None of the buildings were more than two stories, and the entire place was covered in a thin layer of dust. If it hadn’t been for the wrecked truck outside, he’d have considered it abandoned.

  “There’s something in there. The first signs we had three hours ago showed heat signatures on the perimeter. That Hunter-Killer was in this area for a reason.”

  The Alliance forces generally knew the lander as a Bioray, but since their abandonment on Eos, the powerful craft had taken on a completely new role. They were large, tough, and carried a varied contingent of warriors. Wictred had watched two squads of marines and an NHA patrol as they were totally destroyed by the firepower of the craft over the last days. Only the marines had managed to hold off the lander, but it had then simply deposited a number of warriors to finish the job. The name Hunter-Killer was well deserved.

  “Wait, movement!” said one of the other marines.

  All eyes turned to the town and the glimmer of metal in the distance. A small number of yellow flashes marked out hidden gun positions, followed by shouting.