Star Crusades Nexus: Book 03 - Heroes of Helios Read online

  Ayndir seemed to flush with anger at these words.

  “The Great Enemy had already infiltrated our sector when we sealed the Rift. Our numbers are now in the thousands. They raped our worlds and slaughtered our people. Our advanced technology has been stripped from us and used against us. Even when we lost our last world, when our citizens begged for us to open the Rift to ask for help, we refused. That was the measure of our resolve.”

  Harlan took a half step back.

  “Then why are you here? Why did you not die and leave us in safety?”

  Ayndir recoiled in disgust at the lack of compassion in Harlan’s tone.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped back, “This is simple mathematics, and emotions do not come into it. If your people were so lost, then you should never have come. You threaten us with your own fate. If you are here, then the Great Enemy has entered the holy space of Helios, and we are unprepared for them.”

  He moved closer to Ayndir.

  “You should never have come. You have brought the war to all of us!”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, the pain quickly spread through the Helion’s body, and he winced in pain. Ayndir noticed movement and turned her head slightly to see the three humans looking at her, confusion showing on their eyes. Not one of them could understand the conversation between the T’Kari and the Helion, but the tones and body language was a universal sign. A confrontation looked the same, whether it was between humans, aliens, or any other creatures. She leaned closer to Harlan, a furious expression now showing on her face, and gripped her comrade's arm even tighter.

  “The Enemy is coming, and we need to be ready. Stop cowering and prepare your people! These primitives defeated them on their own and destroyed the soldier leading the conquest of our worlds.”

  Ayndir extended her left arm and pointed to Admiral Anderson.

  “They saved us from the machines. It is time to end this, once and for all!”

  Harlan shook his head, a look of fear showing on his face.

  “No, we cannot. The Rifts are sealed, and our people are safe. We have had no need of warriors and ships for generations. We have spent this time expanding our knowledge and understanding.”

  Ayndir spat on the ground; a gesture Harlan had never seen before. He looked at her face, and the expression still hadn’t changed from disgust.

  “You’ve grown fat and lazy. You’ve done nothing to stop the danger, and it is out there, trust me. The Enemy is there, and it wants to come back in. Is Helios ready for war?”

  Harlan said nothing, and his lack of a response seemed to create even greater anger inside Ayndir.

  “I said is Helios ready for war!” she shouted, this time so loud that it caught the attention of every single individual inside the building. Gun and the others looked directly at them both, and Harlan quickly turned away to avoid their gaze. Ayndir just shook her head in dismay. Her pale face finally showing an emotion the human visitors had not seen before.

  “What’s that?” asked Gun loudly.

  His voice was followed by a dull horn type sound, as though somebody was standing outside the building blowing hard on a trumpet. The sound of dozens, then hundreds of people rumbled.

  Harlan and Ayndir moved away from each other, Harlan heading for the door while Ayndir joined Teresa and the others. By the time she reached them, the first of the officials had arrived. They were speaking in a dozen alien tongues, pointing and chatting excitedly upon spotting Teresa and her comrades. More and more arrived, and every one of them looked more unusual than the last. Once the first group had moved inside, another delegation approached, this time in conventional clothing. Teresa raised an eyebrow as she spotted Broby Ramir, one of the Alliance’s most prominent senators. He moved with a group of a dozen men and women, each dressed in dark suits, and heading directly for Admiral Anderson.

  “I take it this is our civilian delegation?” asked Teresa.

  Anderson glanced at her and nodded.

  “Yes, the Senator has just been promoted.”

  He turned back to find the man just a few meters away. He moved in front of Anderson and extended his right arm. They both shook hands in an excessively formal gesture.

  “Admiral, interesting place we have here.”

  Anderson raised an eyebrow.

  “Interesting?” he answered sarcastically, “It’s only the epicenter of a number of alien empires. This makes the discovery of T’Karan seem like small fry.”

  Broby Ramir nodded in partial agreement.

  “Yes, T’Karan was an important first step, but this is something completely new to us. On this world, we are just one of many people, and I’ve been sent here with one mission only.”

  Anderson waited, but he said nothing.

  “Well, Senator, the mission is?”

  “To protect Alliance interests, at all costs. Our citizens and our worlds are the only consideration for me and my delegation.”

  Anderson hadn’t expected anything different from his politicians. Not that he could blame them, of course. The first contact they ever made with something out of the ordinary had been the Biomechs. War had started that way, and millions had paid the price.

  What will be the price be if things go wrong now?”

  The Senator stepped to the left of Anderson and handed him a secpad, a small rubberized electronic device that functioned as a computerized multi-tool and communication device. Anderson looked at the display and the image of the Rift that joined T’Karan and Helion space.

  “The T’Kari have left ships at the Rift, along with a permanent escort of three warships on rotation. If anything happens that we don’t like, they shut it all down and nothing gets through.”

  Anderson looked surprised at the information.

  “We’re now trusting the T’Kari with this level of security.”

  Broby Ramir grinned.

  “Hardly. The ships are crewed with a mixture of their and our personnel. Don’t forget, Admiral, T’Karan territory ceded to our authority in exchange for our protection.”

  Anderson was well aware of the situation but was still surprised he had not heard of this beforehand.

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

  Broby Ramir shook his head as though having no idea.

  “Not my responsibility, Admiral. As I understand it, each of the colonies is operating just the same as territory back home. Hell, the first of the T’Kari diplomats have even voted in the regional elections back on Terra Nova. T’Karan is under civilian, not military control anymore.”

  Again Admiral Anderson looked unimpressed at the news. It had only been a short time since the Alliance had traveled from Alpha Centauri out into the Orion Nebula. It had been his own research team that had built the Rift Spacebridges through the Alliance, and eventually from Prometheus directly to T’Karan. He moved aside as a group of Helions went past, followed by another group of Alliance personnel, this time including General Rivers, now Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

  “General!” he called out in a mixture of pleasure and surprise.

  The Senator was now completely ignored as General Rivers approached. Two marines, both in ceremonial uniforms and carrying sidearms only, flanked him.

  “Admiral, good to see you.”

  He then looked around at the others.

  Major Morato and Commander Gun, I see your new unit has been doing what it does best. Making the galaxy bleed.”

  Gun grinned at that, but Teresa seemed less impressed. Rivers looked to Teresa.

  “I know about Spartan, and I’m sorry. If this plays the way it should, we will get access to parts of this network.”

  He then moved to the Admiral. He beckoned for the man to move away from the others so he could speak briefly. The two men had worked together for a long time, both having been involved in the last battles of the Uprising.

  “What is it?” asked Anderson.

  “The President has confirmed your recommendati
on for T’Karan.”

  “The base?”

  Rivers nodded.

  “She agreed with me that a permanent base would be needed that could respond to problems in T’Karan or directly inside Helion space.”

  He reached down and pulled out his secpad. A quick gesture and a tap sent a series of files to Anderson’s own unit.

  “The specs are there for your approval, but I think you’ll find it all in order. Your temporary supply site will be supplied with components within three months. Based on your plans, that means the main structure will be ready for the end of the year.”

  Excellent,” said Anderson, “and the transfer of my teams from the Prometheus facilities?”

  “Most are staying in Prometheus, but I have arranged for three ships to bring equipment and engineers to your new site. Manufacture and shipyards are best suited at Prometheus. This new site will be ideal for research, development, and…”

  “As a potential staging post?”

  Rivers shrugged, but it was obvious that was the main reason for the site.

  "Your area of command is still the entire T’Karan sector, and this base will be where the T’Karan main fleet will operate from."

  Anderson seemed pleased with the news but not particularly surprised.

  “There’s just one thing left to decide,” Rivers added.

  Anderson tightened his forehead.

  “Which is?”

  “A name. The base will need a name.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Universal warships such as the venerable Crusader class cruiser are the backbone of the fleet. By utilizing operation components that can be retrofitted in less than a month, a universal warship can become a ship of the line, assault carrier, or even a fully-fledged command carrier. This new level of flexibility allows a smaller number of hulls to fulfill a much greater number of roles. This modularization would become the hallmarks of the Alliance Navy, even as newer, larger, and more powerful improvements of the Crusader class were commissioned into the fleet.

  Naval Cadet’s Handbook

  Jack could hear the sounds of his comrades speak before he could see them. Their voices were dulled as though they were speaking behind layers of material. He concentrated as hard as he could, but there was too much chatter. His eyes started to focus, and the scenery around him changed from blackness to a number of gray rotating shapes. His shoulder sent a surge of pain through his body, and like a jolt of electricity, a flow of adrenalin pumped through his body. Although partially down to him, the bulk of the adrenalin was sent out from the PDS suit as part of a reactivation mode for such trauma. He opened his eyes and looked into the face of Sergeant Stone.

  “Marine, shoulder your weapon!” he growled, thrusting an L52 Mk II carbine into Jack’s hands.

  Jack shook his head and then went into automatic mode. He’d had his basic training drilled into him from day one. Even with his eyes closed, he could check the weapon and magazine. By the time the adrenalin had kick-started his system, his eyes were open and the weapon was up at his shoulder.

  What the hell happened? he wondered, expecting the worst.

  “Marine, we have the bridge but two escaped. They're making their way to the port escape pod. You’re the fastest in the unit with zero gravity movement, so get there and stop them!”

  Jack nodded and then shook his head for the briefest of moments. Data showed on both sides of the visor with information on his own team members as well as the hijackers. Sergeant Stone had already preselected the route for him to follow. That was when he spotted the damage on the Sergeant’s leg and torso armor. A number of gashes had cut inside, and dark blood stained the outer layers. Around the wound was a layer of white foam, one of the suits many inbuilt safety features to maintain a seal in a vacuum.

  Okay, let’s do this.

  Jack lowered his head and pushed away. The boots disconnected at the same time, and as before, he drifted through the ship. He passed a number of wounded marines as well as far more dead or captured hijackers. Then he was away from the bridge and moving back inside the ship. The passageway to the port side was long and narrow and still open. His training told him to slow his pace and check for trouble, but he knew time was against him. If he waited, the two could reach the pod and escape out into space. He had to stop them.

  The passageway was substantially more difficult to move through than the one they had arrived on. The first set of ribbed sections made it almost too narrow to navigate, and he was forced to bash his way through. His face struck the wall a dozen times as he moved on, using his arms to grab and pull at the handles fitted throughout. As he reached the end of a forty-meter long section, he spotted the light from a man’s torch. He kept gliding towards them and chose to ignore the sight of the man. It was a mistake that almost cost his life, as three flashes of light indicated the man was firing a sidearm at him.

  Hell!

  He grabbed at the wall, but there was no cover to be had. Miraculously, two bullets embedded in the metal of the ship, but the third and final round glanced off his left arm and hit his upper leg. Alarms announced the breach, but his suit could manage it, at least he hoped it could. Then he was amongst the last two of the hijackers. Both carried pistols, but neither had a pressure suit or any discernible armor that he could tell. He struck at the first with his carbine stock and then tumbled on past them. He continued for three more meters before grabbing the wall. Another round whistled past him, but Jack forced himself to ignore it.

  Prisoners are what we need. My armor will protect me.

  One more bullet struck him, and this time the suit was unable to repair the seal in his left knee. Incredibly, the armor had avoided letting the bullet penetrate any further. Even so, the fact the breach alarms had been triggered reminded Jack that even inside a state-of-the-art suit of armor, he was still vulnerable. He checked the twist on the barrel of his weapon to ensure it was on the low power, subsonic mode and then took aim. The two hijackers stumbled toward him, uncertain and evidently uncomfortable in the low gravity. He squeezed the trigger, but a hand grabbed his armor and spun him around. The carbine floated away, and in an instant was on his own and surrounded by three hijackers.

  Where the hell did he come from?

  A dark skinned thug, with a scarred face and a crude cudgel in his right hand, swung the weapon. Jack lifted his free left arm up and deflected most of the energy. Unlike the others he’d seen, this man was definitely not of their extremist movement. As he dodged a second blow, he recalled the shape of the tattoo on the man’s neck. He was a ganger from Carthago, probably from one of the hundreds of decrepit cities where crime was rampant. Though without finesse, the man was strong and stabbed multiple times at the armor before putting his arm around Jack’s neck and putting him in a headlock. Jack reached down and pulled out his sidearm in time for the other two to move closer. This time he didn’t hesitate, putting three rounds into the chest of the first. The second ignored the gunfire and struck the weapon from his hand with a snapping action from his own firearm. Again the dark skinned man stabbed down at Jack’s armor, desperately trying to find a chink he could take advantage of.

  “Alliance dog!” growled the man.

  The blade was sharp, very sharp and scored his armor as it ran along the outside. The robed figure in front raised his pistol and pointed it at Jack’s visor. He could see inside the barrel and the fingers of the man in a dark leather glove. As the finger squeezed gently on the trigger, Jack tried to struggle.

  “It will be over soon. We have to stop this madness!” he muttered.

  The man flew widely across the narrow passageway and struck the wall before a dark shape moved in front of Jack, pinning the man to the metal structure. The figure was fully armored and taller and stronger built than Jack. It twisted its head toward Jack, showing its armored head and crudely modified visor.

  “Wictred?” spluttered Jack in surprise.

  His Jötnar friend slammed a metal clad knee into the man’s s
tomach and then held him like a vice to the wall. The man looked back at him with a mixture of anger and fear. Jack still couldn’t move, and his attacker jammed his head in tighter.

  “You? Biomechs animals!”

  He leapt away from Jack, his rage taking hold of him. Wictred easily bat him aside, and the man flew weightlessly back to Jack who then locked his arm and took a pair of security cuffs from his leg armor. In seconds the man was secured, and the passageway violence was over.

  “Where the hell were you?”

  Wictred opened his visor to reveal a muscled, oversized head. Jack could see where the artificers had been forced to cut away at the armor to modify a section, enabling the suit to be heavily altered in every direction. He guessed it must be at least fifty percent larger than before, and perhaps a good bit more again.

  “This is your first mission. I thought I’d give you a chance to see what you were made of.”

  More marines arrived from the hatch in the passageway that Jack hadn’t even spotted. Hunn, another Jötnar and close friend of his and Wictred moved out, and two more marines fanned out behind him.

  “Jack, see you needed our help again,” laughed Hunn.

  Jack did his best to smile, but it was one more of relief than amusement. The image of the men in the corridor with their pistols pointed right at him had reminded him of how close he’d come to being killed. Hunn moved closer so that their faces were no more than a meter away.

  “I know your father has a reputation for getting into trouble, but this?”

  He was obviously amused at Jack’s discomfort.

  “Private Morato, what’s your status?” asked Sergeant Stone.

  Jack could hear the pain in the man’s voice. His injuries must have been hurting the man severely by now. Jack inhaled and then spoke.

  “Sergeant, the passageway is secure. 3rd Squad is here and have assisted in the operation.”