The Great Betrayal (27 page)

“Okay, marines, lock the prisoners in one of these cars. Stack their weapons and establish a perimeter. I want combat Rams in the tunnel at both ends, and two to stay here to guard the platform. Everybody else will follow me into the tunnel. It’s time we drove these bastards back!”

Unmanned Autonomous Vehicles were encountered in large numbers over the skies of Helios during the Zathee Insurrection. With limited access to conventional military forces, the new government under the control of the dictator Justitium Lyssk was forced to bring into service all possible combat units. Robotic security robots, reconnaissance aircraft, and the four city squadrons of robotic fighters were pressed into service. The Alliance’s only robotic fighters were space-based, so once more it fell to human pilots to take on machines in the yellow skies of Helios.

Robots in Space

The battle for the government buildings of Helios had turned into a full-scale riot, with civilians and state security units battling over every square meter of ground. Vehicles burned in the streets, and individual struggles were decided in buildings large and small. For every Alliance marine or vehicle, there were a hundred or more civilians. They were ill disciplined, poorly equipped, and yet they continued the final big push. As Gun strode through the heart of the battle, he could feel it in his body, the mood of the majority; each desperate to end something few had spoken of until a week or two earlier. Gun understood more than most how it felt to be under another’s yoke.

We’ll end this, today!

Around him waited a large group of marines, including a pair of Vanguards. While the others continued with their pre-allocated tasks, he had handpicked his own guard unit when he landed. There was a mixture of ranks; all of them enlisted men and women, apart from the extremely young Lieutenant David Read. The man had taken over command of this ad-hoc group for the duration of the battle. He was taller and substantially stronger looking than any of the others. A quick check on his file as they marched to their objective had shown Gun that Lieutenant Read was a sportsman back in college.

Just the kind of man the Corps likes to recruit,
he thought, throwing a glance at the man.

The officer was directing the guard unit into a safe formation; a vanguard of four marines and the rest in small groups at the sides of the street, and one kept close to him at all times. It seemed excessive to Gun, but he wasn’t going to argue. If nothing else, it meant he always had a body of marines to send into combat on a whim.

“Sniper!” Private Larned shouted.

Three shots rang out, and the inbuilt defensive measures inside Gun’s armor tagged the incoming fire, and then used a mixture of radar range finding and acoustic matching to locate and track the source of the gunfire. A small flashing red diamond appeared on his overlay, showing the proposed position of the shooter. He looked in its direction and spotted two more flashes. The marines returned fire but not before Private Larned took a thermal charge in the visor. It shattered his helmet and killed him instantly.

“Bring him down!” he roared in anger.

It wasn’t necessary, of course. There were hundreds of marines moving through the cover of the abandoned capital. Drones were en route to the target, and he watched with satisfaction as a single missile fired from a hunter-killer hexrotor eliminated the sniper.

“Target’s KIA,’” said Lieutenant Read.

Gun nodded and pointed forward with his right hand.

“Keep moving forward. We have work to do.”

They continued on and only a short distance behind the skirmish screen of marines from 4th Company. In the middle of the street moved two of the Bulldog Mobile Gun vehicles. Each was equipped with the latest model 60mm railgun, a much larger and heavier version of the L48 weapons used by the marines and Vanguards in the past. Railguns were difficult to use on a smaller scale, but miniaturization had seen a major leap since the end of the Uprising. The technology was now at a stage where a single weapon and its accelerator unit could be contained inside a Bulldog vehicle. It wasn’t perfect, but when the two vehicles tore apart an Animosh armored vehicle with a single volley, Gun could barely conceal his pleasure.

“What do you think of them?” asked Lieutenant Read.

Gun answered without moving his head even a millimeter.

“They have a lot of problems, limited ammunition, overheating, and very few in production so far. Even so, just look at that!”

He extended his right arm out toward the column of smoke rising up from the ruined Animosh vehicle.

“What would I give to have one of those guns strapped on my arm!”

Lieutenant Read did his best to hide his smile. The marines were professionals, but none of them seemed to relish the opportunity for combat and blood like Gun and his people. Gun wasn’t the first of the Jötnar the young Lieutenant had met, but he was the first he’d seen in battle, and it had been a revelation.

“Captain Jackson reporting. We’ve secured the lower street levels. Animosh security forces are withdrawing back across the sector bridges. Do we have permission to blow them before they get back to safety?”

Gun wanted to say yes so badly. By launching surgical strikes like this, they could end the battle in hours. The Animosh had numbers and defensive positions, but they couldn’t handle the firepower, skill, and the sheer brutality of the marines.

“Negative, we have our orders from the General. The Zathee have to win this, not us. We open the door. They have to do the rest.”

“Understood. In that case, watch yourself, Colonel. Some of their forces are falling back in your direction. Rumors have it the Helion Guard is in the area too. Looks like the rumors were true.”

A formation of Thunderbolt Fighters screamed overhead and unleashed a barrage of laser-guided missiles at a group of Animosh armored vehicles. They had vanished behind the peaks of the tall tower blocks, and they exploded in a bright orange explosion. More fighters rushed past, engaging in a massive dogfight with dozens of Helion drone fighters. Trails from missiles mixed with their own vapor trails left curled lines in every direction.

Just like old times,
Gun thought and took another step forward in the street.

He was on one of the many raised walkways running at multiple levels in that part of the city. A single marine Bulldog troop carrier had crashed into a barricade and lost three wheels. Even so, the top-mounted gun unit continued to track and fire on the defenders further down the roadway.

“Helion Guard, who the hell are they?”

He remembered hearing something about them in one of the many briefings, but nothing solid came to mind. As he thought about it, the computer sprung to life. He had been talking to himself, but the onboard computer fitted to the JAS assumed it was a question directed at the system. It checked all available reports and status indicators before collating them and running them through its analysis engine.

“The Helion Guard is reported to be an elite battalion of a nine-hundred female Helions, each handpicked from the finest genetic stock of the main Helion cultures. Each of the cultures provides an annual tithe of people, and they are never seen or heard from again.”

So, no Zathee. Makes sense.

“According to the public record, they are known informally by the Zathee as the Night Hunters, due to them never seen and remove threats silently and without casualties.”

Gun smiled at the last part.

Really, no casualties? Well, we shall see about that.

Scores of marines fanned out around him and rushed from cover to cover, putting down an accurate and deadly rain of bullets. Hidden behind a concrete block came two fighters, both carrying bomb harnesses and rifles. He spotted them out of the corner of his eye and extended his right arm to point at them. One of the Vanguards behind him tracked the target and blasted them with the suit’s built-in weapons. They were cut apart before they could respond.

That was my target,
he smiled.

Unlike the Vanguards, the JAS armor was optimized for close combat. The Jötnar were hardly known for their stealth tactics and marksmanship, but when it came to direct assault, there was nothing better; not even the Vanguard platoons could match the speed, strength, and sheer tenacity of a unit of the humanoid Jötnar. He checked his systems for what must have been the tenth time before spotting the status indicator for the armor-mounted weapon.

You idiot!

There were two models currently in production, but he had chosen the one fitted with serrated blades on each arm and a single shoulder mounted weapon unit. He had forgotten the thing was even there, being as he’d always carried his weapons in his hands or on his arm. By placing the unit directly onto his torso, it freed up his limbs for full movement. He twisted his head but could only just make out part of its shape. Having such a powerful weapon attached to him reminded him of Prometheus, and the weapon they had fitted to him to kill humans. Back then it had been nothing more than a Gatling gun strapped to his arm. Times had changed, but in other ways they were still the same for him.

Bastards!

He remembered those he’d killed on the fiery world of Prometheus. He didn’t regret the killing, but his hatred for those who forced him to do it had never abated.
He looked back at the hundreds of civilians waiting well behind the marines and in cover. Many more were following up along the smaller walkways and passageways littering that part of the city. He looked back to the outer defenses. Heavy weapons and snipers were positioned high up, and on the lowest level a number of barricades and concrete blocks had been erected to hold back the rebels.

We’ll create an opening for you, and you’ll have your chance.

Gun was happy to fight, and most of the time even the cause didn’t matter to him. But one thing he didn’t like was being used for somebody else’s gain. The crimes he’d been forced to commit on Prometheus were a constant reminder of what he wanted to stop. He glanced at the overlay, spotted the weapon activation, and flicked the switch, all by using just his eyes. It was fast and surprised even him.

“Weapon system armed and active,” said the computer.

Five Vanguards strode past him in their large exo-armored suits. To the uninitiated they might look similar, but they couldn’t be more different. Gun wore a modified armored suit, whereas the Vanguards used heavily modified combat engineering units that had been fitted out with enclosed crew sections, thicker armor, and additional weapons. Spartan had pushed hard for their introduction, and his hard work was coming to fruition. Bullets and thermal rounds bounced off their thick hide as they moved ahead, the marines following them. They made a whirring sound as their servomotors and hydraulic units moved them at a surprising speed. He even spotted some Jötnar wearing armor much like his own. They were working alongside a similar size group of Vanguards, and smashing their way through a pair of heavily defended barricades.

“Watch out!” cried a nearby marine.

Five combat drones came from the ruins of a repair station just ahead of them. They were fast and their weapons leveled. It wasn’t unusual to run into these combat robots, but the effect they had on the rebel civilians was devastating. At least thirty of them turned and ran. The machines gunned them down, closing the gap to Gun and his line of marines.

“Take cover!” called out the Lieutenant. The marines scattered. The first rounds struck about them, and they were forced to throw themselves down to avoid the gunfire. Gun signaled to the remaining three Vanguards in his own force and stepped ahead of the marines in plain sight of the machines.

“They are not man enough to fight us; cowards. They hide behind their machine toys!”

His words caught some of the marines by surprise. There were already hundreds of robotic Rams supporting the ground troops, and small numbers of robotic fighters also in use by some escort ships in the fleet. Gun had a particular hatred of them though, especially those used against them. As far as Gun was concerned, there was nothing more cowardly than having a machine do the fighting for you. He pointed both of his armored fists at the machines.

“Destroy them!”

Round after round struck his armor, and at least two smashed through the plating on his left leg. He ignored it and took aim with the shoulder-mounted weapon. It was a heavily modified L56 Mark III and fitted on a fully rotating gimbal. It was essentially a larger scale version of the L52 carbine, but with five short barrels and two separate ammunition feeds that ran into a pair of large boxes on his back. It was only being fitted to a small number of vehicles, as well as some Vanguards and other units. He tracked from left to right, tagging each target. The gun followed the direction and opened fire in its maximum firepower mode. Like the carbine, it loaded, charged, and launched the magnetic projectiles simultaneously at the target. Up to nearly two hundred meters, the rounds were so close they struck as if one massive round. After that, they started to spread like a hypersonic shotgun. Every second it sent a powerful blast; putting a massive smile on Gun’s face.