The Great Betrayal (15 page)

Get it together, idiot!

He looked back at the tiny window, remembering the last time he was in this position. It had been inside the damaged hull of ANS Conqueror as she had made her way through the atmosphere. It ended in a violent emergency landing, followed by hours of hiding and fighting. This time was different though; at least he tried to tell himself that. Now they were heading down by choice, and it made him feel strangely distant to his comrades. He could see the swirling light brown clouds in the skies, as well as layer after layer of roads, rail systems, and tall buildings. It was how he had imagined Terra Nova would be until he actually went there many years earlier.

“Jack, you ready?” Wictred asked.

Jack said nothing but lifted his thumb in the universal gesture. Wictred seemed satisfied with that, looking about the craft at the other marines as they sat and waited. All of them wore their latest issue dark gray PDS Alpha armor and black tiger strike camouflage pattern. The gear had been introduced prior to the Helios Expedition and was a minor upgrade to the old version of the armor that had been used in the Corps for decades. It was designed to provide protection against the environment, as well as moderate enemy fire. It fitted close to the skin. Contrary to most people’s thoughts, the suit wasn’t designed to turn each marine into a tank, more it had been created to allow them to operate in any environments within a fully sealed suit. The visors on their helmets were a smoked black color, and the reinforced gorget section at the top of the chest covered the neck and chin; this was the most obvious visual change to the equipment.

“Remember the briefing. Our job is to secure the officials and to get them back to the birds. We go in fast and get the job done.”

The marines replied back on the affirmative, and Wictred nodded slowly. Unlike the other marines, he could never have fitted inside standard marine issue gear. Instead, Wictred wore the heavily modified armor produced back on Prometheus and based on specifications laid out by the Alliance military, with the assistance of engineers on Hyperion. The color scheme was identical to the PDS Alpha armor that Jack wore, but it more closely resembled a non-powered version of the exo-skeletal armor used by the massive Vanguards. For a second, Jack actually thought he was looking at one of those pieces of equipment, but the finish was completely different. The slab plating and rougher finish marked it out as a functional object, like everything Wictred’s people used. It was the first time Jack had seen Wictred wear it, and it looked much more aggressive than he’d expected.

“What do you think of the JAS gear?” called out one of the marines.

Jack heard the man’s voice and glanced at Wictred to hear his response. The armor’s name was a simple one, and he was pretty sure he’d heard it described as a Jötnar Assault Suit, as opposed to the Personal Defense Suits used by everybody else. At least that was what he’d heard in the barracks.

“It’s tight, not how I would have designed it,” he said smartly.

Two more of the marines looked at Wictred as he flexed his muscles. There was no fancy powerplant or hydraulics. Everything that moved was done purely through the strength of its wearer. He looked directly at Jack and lifted up both fists as if boxing. It gave Jack a perfect view of the serrated blades on the arms.

“I like the weapons and armor though. It’s a start, and it is a good match for the Vanguard gear.”

Jack looked at the arms of the armor and noticed the obvious changes that had been made for the Jötnar. Their propensity for violent close ranged combat had meant the removal of anything designed for ranged combat. The limb joints were stronger, with multiple serrated edges on the arms all the way to the elbows. He imagined this type of new armor would make them even deadlier killing machines. It wasn’t surprising they were being mated up with the Vanguards to create heavy units. Jack looked at the rest of the marines in the Hammerhead and was still surprised at how small they were compared to the enlarged bulk of Wictred. He shook his head, doing his best to hide a laugh.

This is not going to do anything for Wictred’s ego!

“Don’t forget the rules of engagement, Corporal,” he called out to his friend.

Wictred frowned at this, and to others it might have looked as if it was more of a rebuke. Jack knew differently. This was Wictred being annoyed that he wouldn’t be easily able to use his new toys, at least not until they were in serious danger. Wictred protected his face with the left paw and struck a mock punch with the right.

“If any of them get too close, I’ll have to introduce them to my friend here.”

It was a modest distraction, but as he looked at Wictred, the thoughts of the Helion synthetics that had been far from his mind were now back and in full form. They had been much like Wictred, though more slight and closer to Jack’s height than his friend. He wondered how many were still on the planet and then banged his helmet hard against the bulkhead.

What the hell are you doing? Sort it out, now!

It was the continuous buffeting of the spacecraft that had brought him back to reality, and he was actually thankful for it. The memories of what had been were impacting him, and he needed to focus. Jack looked back to the window and spotted another of the Hammerheads moving in formation. The craft was smaller than the spacecraft normally used for this kind of mission, and it was part of the great change that had swept through the Alliance military. The days of all operations commencing with a massed landing craft assault were long gone. With better vehicles, weapons, and armor, the marines of the Alliance could make use of a host of new vehicles, from the small but fast Hammerheads to the eight-wheel Bulldog armored personnel carriers to launch lightning attacks ahead of the larger landing vehicles.

Do more with less,
Jack thought, remembering one of the many briefings as units had been cut and new vehicles introduced. The only good thing was that as they had discovered more worlds and people, so had public demand for protection. It seemed the citizens of the Alliance were feeling nervous, and perhaps a little vulnerable after seeing the first footage of the alien worlds.

I remember one of my instructors telling me that nothing draws people together like the threat of a more powerful competitor. I’m not entirely convinced with that argument, but at the very least there have been substantial increases in defense spending throughout the Alliance, and that means more marine battalions, more bases, and most of all, more ships.

“We’re going in hot!” said one of the marines to the laughter of the others.

“This ain’t hot,” laughed another while he played about with the slide on his carbine. Wictred shot him a withering look from across the Hammerhead.

“Marine, this is combat, not some lame ass game. Keep your weapon stowed and your game face on unless you want to be first one with their head in the mud when we make landfall!”

It was harsh and unexpected from his friend. Wictred was young compared to his kin, yet this promotion in the Corps and his recent experience seemed to have changed him. Jack looked at the other marines and wondered why they had changed in such different ways since the last operation.

“What’s up his ass?” muttered Private Riku, only loud enough for the three marines including Jack around her to hear.

Jack almost snapped at her, but something deep down forced him to keep his mouth shut. Only a handful of those in the Hammerhead had seen combat, and those hadn’t seen anything like the combat he and Wictred had witnessed. Jack forced himself to stay calm and looked at each of them, making sure he could remember their faces. It wasn’t easy as the visors made it almost impossible to make out detailed features. Luckily, the insignia on their chests and the occasional individual markings on the armor helped a little.

“Hey, Morato. We’re gonna kick some serious ass down there!” said Private Callahan.

Jack looked at him and said nothing; his mind had turned blank. He knew the excitement and bravado was just as much a coping mechanism as was the alcohol still lingering inside his body. It had dulled his senses, yet everything around him seemed to be moving slowly, apart from the view out of the window. He looked back and watched a pair of Lightning Fighters drop down to avoid a burst of thermal cannon fire. One was hit on the left engine, and it quickly caught fire. Jack watched in fascination as the fighter’s internal fire suppression system stopped the fire. The engine was out of action and streamed a long trail of black smoke. That was when the internal speaker activated, and Jack knew immediately it was Captain Carter, their commander for this operation.

“Marines, this is it. Reports from embedded drones show columns of armor on the way to the precinct. Time is of the essence. Remember, the priority is the rescue of the Helion officials. Once secured, we moved onto Phase Two and hold the entire side until relieved. Good luck, people. Keep your heads down and your eyes open.”

Jack had only met the man briefly before boarding the Hammerhead, along with the rest of his team. He was a wiry man with a thin black mustache and a peculiar accent to his voice that Jack found difficult to place. He'd looked calm and confident as filed past and stepped to their positions inside. Jack looked at the rest of their formation from the window and found the Hammerhead with the black arrows near the nose.

That’s him,
he thought.

“Marines, we’ve been spotted, and now they know we’re here,” said a familiar voice over the platoon’s private audio channel. The sound was crystal clear for a change.

They’d better have the comms working right this time.

“Animosh ground forces have blocked off the remaining route back to rebel lines. The precinct is now on its own and won’t hold against a combined assault. Our schedule has been stepped up, so we’re going in fast. You know your targets and extraction points, so do not dawdle.”

Jack looked to the other marines and could almost smell the raw nerves.

“We have three minutes on the ground before Helion aircraft will be on us. Good hunting,” said Sergeant Stone.

It was strange to not hear him ranting and raving at them. This was the first time they’d been into action with the Sergeant, and Jack was actually quite impressed with the reassuring tone of the Sergeant.

Perhaps I misjudged him.

“Twenty seconds!” said the pilot over the same channel.

It was the final signal for Jack, and it sent a massive surge of adrenalin though his body. He scanned the rows of indicator icons on the visor overlay to check everything was ready. Then he noticed the red icon that monitored his weapon.

You idiot.

He looked down and saw his L52 Mark II carbine sat there dormant, its power unit switched off, and its powerful energy coils completely impotent. With a quick twist, he activated the capacitor charging system and readied if for action. It didn’t take long for the weapon to charge, but it still sent a chill of mild panic through him.

“Five seconds!”

The Hammerhead was now shaking considerably as the engines redirected their power. Until then, Jack had barely even noticed the slowing descent. Even in simulated landings, they didn’t come down this hard and fast. His body seemed to increase in weight, and he thought he would be unable to breathe. The side door hissed open, and a dull yellow haze filled the horizon. The smoked visor quickly adjusted to the lighting conditions.

“Go, go, go!” shouted Wictred.

The dispersal from the Hammerhead was automatic, and it didn’t even feel like a real combat operation to Jack. Half of the marines were out before it was his turn, and then he was outside. Even as he moved out, he could see the shape of the two armored mules, now known colloquially as the Ram due to its reinforced frontal section. The machines were as big as farm animals and stood on two pairs of inward facing legs. Slabs of lightweight armor hung around their bodies, and as they were fully unrevealed and dropped to the ground, the differences between the two became clear. The first had open cages fitted to its top and flanks for the transport of supplies, ammunition, and equipment. The second Ram carried a dual L48 rifle fitted inside a motorized housing where its shoulders should have been. The frontal armor of this model was much more substantial than the other, and along its haunches were two reinforced cases for recon drones.

“This way!” called out a faceless marine, as he leapt over a piece of rubble and rushed away from the Hammerhead.

Okay, let’s go,
Jack thought.

Jenkell, Frewyn, and Callahan spread out in front and moved toward the tower, with the Ram clanking after them. Jack followed right behind but kept his head down. His boots made a loud crunching sound as he crushed small stones to powder. From memory, he knew this structure was the captured Animosh precinct and was guarded at each corner by a massive tower. Green lines on his helmet’s overlay showed where he needed to go, and small green diamonds marked out known friendlies.