The Great Betrayal (28 page)

“Keep moving forward!” he growled, upon spotting his marines taking cover. One jumped up without checking and took a round into his helmet. If it had been the old PDS armor, the man would have had his head torn right off. Instead, the PDS Alpha armor had the reinforced gorget around the throat. It was this that took the impact and sent the man sprawling. One of his comrades dragged him to safety; the others climbed over the cover and pushed on.

Good, that’s better.

Gun continued forward, quickly checking his overlay to ensure the rest of his units were doing the same. He now had over fourteen hundred marines, Vanguards, and Jötnar on the ground and moving in small forces to push the Animosh back. Even so, his entire battalion was only large enough to cover five percent of the ground around the triangle. It was falling on the rebels to do the bulk of the work.

“Colonel!” cried out Corporal ‘Killswitch’
Durham, a middle-aged marine with an L52 across his chest. Gun recognized the distinctive paint scheme on his back. He'd failed one of his scenarios by accidentally hitting the cargo bay vent release. If it had been a real mission, the entire squad would have died.

One of the surviving drones made it through the gunfire and brought its heavy metal arm down to crush Gun. The Corporal jumped in the way and opened fire. Although his rounds struck the machine, they proved ineffective; unlike the machine’s attack that cut the man clean in half. Blood sprayed over the front of Gun’s armor and over his face.

“Try this then!”
 
Gun snapped.

He reached out and grabbed the heavy combat drone with both arms. His left fist with its serrated blade jammed into its arm. He proceeded to lift it until the machine was nearly a meter from the ground. It flailed out, but he simply laughed and looked right in the center of its body. With a massive roar, the shoulder-mounted L56 fired a powerful round directly into it. The impact threw the drone back five meters, and it crashed to the ground with smoke belching from its ruined carcass.

“I love this!” he growled, to the surprise and amusement of the marines around him.

The drones were smashed, and the defending Animosh broke and fled back to the safety of the tall walls and structures of the outer defenses of the Triangle.

“The sentries in Sector Seven are withdrawing,” he said over the radio to his liaison officer with the Zathee. He didn’t need to say anymore though; from the protection of the debris came a great wave of rebels. They surged past Gun and the marines, over the barricades, and into the outer defenses protecting the area known as the Triangle.

Good, now it’s time for Koerner to do his part.

He sent a request to the Colonel, at the same time checking the aerial feed from a pair of hexrotor drones that were buzzing over the city like predatory birds. The streets and raised overpasses were a mess; crash-landed vehicles and improvised barricades stretched out on hundreds of different points. His frontline marine units were now heavily intermixed with the huge numbers of civilians that had come out into the streets. Through it all though, it was simple to track his forces and maintain control over them, even if to the untrained eye it looked like an uncoordinated mess.

Gun reckoned only a tiny number of them had any useful military experience, but they were eager to end what must have been a long and bitter repression. He identified the rest of his units and updated their new objectives. He wanted the marines to keep hitting the defenses hard. As breaches were made, he would give the signal and let the Zathee continue onward. No matter how messy the situation was, Gun hadn’t been happier in months, perhaps years. Fitted out with the latest JAS armor, he felt like a metal god as he advanced with the marines through the upper levels of the city.

“Gun, my forces are ready to strike out for the precinct,” Colonel Koerner said over the communications channel.

“Good work, that’s ahead of schedule. Keep me posted on your progress.”

“I will. How is the assault on the capital?”

Gun did his best to hide a grin of pleasure.

“These Zathee rebels will not hold back. My drones show the Animosh security forces have fallen back to this fortified position, a killing ground the scouts are calling the Triangle.”

“That’s the pyramid section north of the government buildings, right?”

Gun nodded, not that the man could see him. His own position was roughly a kilometer from the southern end of the Triangle, and already they were finding progress slow. Ideally, he would bring in artillery, mortars, and airstrikes, but General Daniels had refused his request. The battle had to be won by the Zathee and with minimal damage to the city.

“Yes, it is the size of ten city blocks and six levels high. There are landing platforms, anti-aircraft mounts, and reinforced positions at every point. The Zathee reached it an hour ago and were forced back with heavy casualties.”

“Numbers?”

Gun checked the overlay on his visor, something that he never really had much access to in the past. It showed the tactical disposition of all Alliance units in the area, as were tagged enemy units.

“It looks like half of the Animosh have withdrawn to the Triangle, along with most of their leadership. Maybe fifteen thousand plus combat drones and heavy weapons. Twice as many are trying to withdraw underground from their remaining bases. If they make it there, they will be impossible to move.”

“I see. And the transport hub?”

There was a short pause.

“Our marines are still fighting to secure it. Listen; even if it is captured, they will have the number to overrun the place within the hour. You have to reinforce Captain Carter, or this will turn from a short revolution to a full-scale civil war. We cannot afford a stalemate.”

“Gun, I will demonstrate in and around the precinct with everything I have. I promise you that within the hour the precinct and the hub will be in Alliance hands.”

Gun nodded to himself.

“Good luck, Colonel. I’ll continue the encirclement of the Triangle; nobody is getting out of there.”

* * *

The interior of the T’Kari ship was almost identical to the one he and Khan had been trapped aboard during their incident so long ago, though he suspected it might be a fair bit smaller. Spartan couldn’t even remember how long ago it was, other than that it felt like a lifetime. The T’Kari had split into two groups, one staying with Khan and Spartan, and the others heading further along the docking ring toward another of the ships.

“You reckon they can start this thing?” asked Khan.

The door hissed shut behind them, and one of the shorter T’Kari beckoned for them to enter the passageway to the left.

“I know. This goes to your control room,” he replied, knowing the alien wouldn’t understand him, “Just get your ass moving. I’m not going back!”

They moved at a brisk pace, and one of the T’Kari almost stumbled trying to keep up with Khan. It was the image of the newly arrived reinforcements at the station that did it for all of them, and the image was still fresh in their thoughts. Once they’d made it aboard the ship, a large number of guards, including at least eight Biomechs machines, had rushed into the docking ring. The thought of those powerful things gave Spartan all the motivation he needed to keep his aching legs moving. It took them less than three minutes to reach the front of the vessel where two of the aliens were already sitting down and running through a number of system checks. A third opened his helmet to reveal an old, haggard looking face. He started to speak and then waited. Spartan looked to Khan and back at the alien.

“What? I don’t understand you.”

The alien continued to speak, and Spartan sighed, turning back to his friend.

“Great, let’s just hope they do the right thing.”

This part of the ship was equipped with seating and computer systems for at least twenty T’Kari, far more than the mere handful they had to offer. On the outside it had looked very similar to the Raider ships, but now they were inside, Spartan could see there were many differences.

“What kind of ship do you think this is?”

Khan looked at the displays and controls and then to the other ships at the docking ring.

“Look at the hull. These ships have been modified, and recently.”

Spartan looked at the sleek shape of the T’Kari ships, each of which seemed slightly different. They were very alike the civilian transports used by the T’Kari, but these ones were damaged, some with scorch marks that ran halfway along their hulls. Plates had been fitted on the outside, and there were dozens of simple weapon mounts fitted in odd places.

“I’d say these were seized in battle, and the Biomechs must have been modifying them for something. Based on the number of guns, they’re making them into gunships of some kind."

On cue, a number of displays flashed up, and the front of the room changed to look like transparent glass. To the left was the umbilical connector between the ship and the station. Right in front, and still in space, was the Biomech warship. Off to the right was the Rift. Spartan pointed to it.

“We need to go that way!” he said, half expecting one of them to understand.

One of the T’Kari pulled up a detailed starmap model and beckoned for Spartan to approach. He did so and looked at the images; none of it looked particularly recognizable. There were clusters of stars as well as scrolling lists of images. Many flashed by, but it was a pale blue orb that caught his eye. He pointed, but it was gone before he could raise his arm. The ship shook and then detached from the umbilical. Alarms sounded, and no sooner had they broken free of the station than a dozen small turrets start shooting at them. Only the ships maneuvering thrusters were operational at this distance. Spartan reached up to the display and dragged back the images until finding the blue orb. It had much in common with the rich world of Terra Nova, but there was something different about this one. The landmasses were not familiar, yet he was certain he’d seen the image many times in the past.

“Earth,” he said under his breath.

The world was still part of the Alliance. After all, Earth was the birthplace of humanity, but it was a shadow now, as was the entire old Solar System. Over centuries, the planets and moons had been stripped of their surviving populations, many of whom had moved to the new colonies in Alpha Centauri. Even so, the last stories he’d read said there were still billions of people living there in the shielded worlds of Mars, Earth, and the numerous colonized moons. The development of the Spacebridges, or Rifts as they were now known, had allowed instantaneous travel back to the old worlds, and many thought this would start a new period of development of these long mistreated and plundered worlds. Khan looked at the blue orb.

“Are you sure?”

Spartan raised a whimsical looking eyebrow before tapping the T’Kari on the shoulder. As the alien turned around, he pointed at the object.

“That one. Take us there.”

The alien looked at it for a brief moment and then back to his comrades. He spoke quickly and loudly as each started up their systems. The entire shipped seemed to buzz with energy as it pulled away from the station, still taking considerable gunfire.

“He wants something,” said Khan.

Spartan didn’t understand. He could see that of the three of the aliens on the ship, the taller one was pointing to a seat and computer system further back. There was a bank of six seats, each identical and fitted with screens and controls. The odd thing was that they didn’t match anything else inside the ship, even the color was wrong.

“What does he want?”

Khan laughed.

“I wonder about you sometimes, Spartan. Those have been added, and if you look at the other ships, what has been changed about them?”

“Guns,” he answered, almost reverently.

“Yeah, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the alien wants you to control the weapons.”

Spartan headed for it and sat down. There were controls, a targeting array, and a live video feed from cameras somewhere on the ship. He reached out, and his hand’s movement was detected. The feed moved, as did the target reticule.

“Spartan, it’s a gun system, you fool. Just point and shoot!”

The system continued to rotate until an image of the docking ring and the group of small ships moored alongside filled his screen. The ship shuddered as more and more fire struck them. He put the reticule on one of the turrets.

“What now?”