The Great Betrayal (26 page)

“Uh, Spartan, this could be a problem.”

Spartan coughed, a cold feeling now gnawing at his stomach.

“No…this isn’t a problem. This is an opportunity. Follow me, I have an idea.”

The battered shape of Spartan whisked off down the passageway as he pushed and pulled his way at surprising speed. Khan followed right behind, and the T’Kari moved as quickly as their magboots would allow. They spent almost ten minutes working their way through the innards of the station, pausing only to check with the female T’Kari on directions. Finally, they reached a wide blast door with symbols running around its frame.

“This is the place,” said Spartan.

Khan looked concerned.

“The docking ring for the ships? What if they have guards?”

He clenched his fists around the chunk of metal he was still holding to use as a club. Spartan noticed the movement first through the thin circular observation window cut into the blast door. He moved closer and tried to work out what was happening, but then it became clear.

“A rotating section. The ring must be spinning around the axis of the station. The smaller ships are docked directly onto the ring. That’s weird.”

Khan lifted his right shoulder in a slight shrug.

“Compared to that thing out there, the T’Kari ships look like shuttles. We do the same thing with landers on the platforms around Hyperion.”

Spartan looked down at the rifle he’d taken from the T’Kari. It was longer than any rifle he’d used before and looked in poor condition. Corrosion showed on the metalwork, and it was heavily worn and marked along the barrel and receiver. Khan spotted him looking down at the weapon.

“Yeah, I don’t think their gear gets much in the way of practice.”

Spartan grimaced and looked back to the tiny window. He could make out the ring walkway and the dozen or so airlocks that led off to the ship docking ports. He cradled the weapon and looked over to Khan and the waiting T’Kari. One of the aliens pointed at the ship, making a gesture with his hands of a ship taking off. Spartan assumed that was what the T’Kari was trying to say anyway.

“You ready?”

Khan nodded, and Spartan could only assume the others would follow.

“Right, let’s go!”

He struck the door seal button, and it hissed open, revealing the walkway that moved past them to the right. It was like a massive treadmill, and he used the grab rail to move out to it before placing his feet on the ground.

Weird!

Khan did the same and was quickly followed by the others. In seconds, the entire group was on board the massive rotating ring that reminded him of the habitation rings of other stations. It was wide, easily big enough for ten warriors of Khan’s size to stand abreast. Trolleys with equipment dotted the sides, and storage racks were filled with spares and supplies.

“Spartan!”

He turned. Khan was pointing at the T’Kari. The entire group had broken into a run and was heading for one of the airlock sections to the right of the ring. Spartan tracked their movement with his head before reaching a pair of flashing red lights. The airlock door opened; at the same time two more that flanked it opened up. Out rushed five T’Kari, each clad in black armor and with their weapons raised. Two dropped to one knee while the others stayed upright, but all pointed their rifles at the escapees.

Typical!

Spartan took aim with his rifle and waited. The argument seemed to go on forever before the female T’Kari stepped between them. One of the black armored figures opened fire. The blue pulse of energy burned a hole the size of a man’s fist in her chest, and she staggered back, falling into the waiting arms of her comrades. The argument turned to a firefight, and two more T’Kari fell before the black figures moved out unscathed, taking up positions behind the trolleys.

“We need to sort this out, and fast!” shouted Spartan.

Khan was already halfway there with his metal club raised when the black armor clad figures spotted him. Another door opened at the other end, revealing the form of two more of the Biomech soldiers. One walked on four legs, the other looked much like the serpent monster Echidna. They were covered in black metal plates, and red dots glowed where their eyes should be. The four-legged one was Khan’s size while the other stood at a height of nearly half as tall again. The taller called out in a machine-like tone.

“Screw this!” muttered Spartan and without thinking opened fire. His shot hammered into the armor of the serpent-like machine’s chest, burning a hole into it. It was nowhere near enough to stop one of these machines. Another dozen black-armored T’Kari surged out of the gap and formed up in front of the Biomech machines as a living shield.

“They’re insane.” He looked to Khan. He’d reached the firefight between the two groups of T’Kari. Like some ancient demon, he swung his metal club and with each strike downed one of them, even as their gunfire burned into his thick flesh.

We need to get out of here!

He ran as quickly as he could after the rest, ever nervous that off to his side was the group of reinforcements, as well as the two Biomech machines.

They aren’t taking me prisoner, not again.

He reached Khan. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds. The surviving T’Kari fanned out around the now sealed doorway and trained their guns on the approaching machines and their black servants. Khan spat blood on the floor and looked to Spartan.

“What now?”

He pointed at the sealed door that led out into the airlock chamber and to the waiting T’Kari destroyer size ship.

“We get through that door and out of here.”

“How?”

Spartan lifted his rifle and took aim.

“Just like the old days, my friend. We keep shooting until we win!”

Khan was a bleeding mess, but it was impossible for him to hide the massive grin showing on his face. He lifted his metal club and brought it down repeatedly on the door. Spartan blasted it with his rifle. A handful of the T’Kari watched in astonishment as a small hole appeared. One said something loudly, and then three of them were joining their fire to Spartan’s.

* * *

The interior of the transportation hub was in a much worse state than Jack could ever have imagined. He assumed most of this had occurred when the rebels had initially overrun the site in the first few hours of the revolution. As they crept through in two lines, he noticed the charred remains of a civilian. There was no sign of any weapon near them, but the deep wound in the alien’s back suggested they’d been killed while fleeing, or cut down in a deadly crossfire. Sergeant Stone stopped and lifted his fist. All the marines behind him dropped down. Even the four Rams following the unit stopped and waited like four-legged statues.

Where are they?

They had been inside the structure for nearly a minute, and apart from bodies, they’d not run into a single one of the enemy. A metal flap on the side of one of the Rams lifted up, and another of the hexrotor drones buzzed off ahead of them. Outside it was silent, but in the quiet confines of the structure, its angry buzzing sound was easy to hear, even without the sound amplification of the PDS Alpha armor. Gunfire ripped behind them as the heavy weapons of the rest of the unit hit around the streets, keeping away any reinforcements above ground.

“Keep moving,” announced the Sergeant after what felt like a massive delay.

They each lifted up from the ground and moved on. Wictred looked like a giant inside the confines of the hub. They progressed into a wide-open circular area that ran under the vast dome. The helmet overlay showed the lines of tunnels and roads beneath their feet as well as the position of the other marines.

“Okay, people. The lowest levels are secure. There’s one tunnel here that needs to be blocked. Animosh forces control it, and they are bringing in more troops to overrun this place.”

He looked at the two files of marines.

“We don’t have time to play. The drones count over a hundred Animosh and at least three combat drones down here.”

Jack tried to slow his breathing. No matter how hard he tried, the image of the machine ripping and hacking into the bodies of friend and foe alike filled him with dread. He thought of Vadi, the synthetic warrior who was fighting so valiantly with the marines at the precinct.

Get a grip, you idiot. You have work to do.

“The entrance is two hundred meters that way. Fix bayonets and get ready. We’re going to rush this place and stop them cold, understood?”

The marines nodded in the affirmative. They were outnumbered five to one, and according to the information coming in from the drones, the Animosh and their machines were spread out both in the tunnel and also on the levels and platforms around it. They were clearly in the process of consolidating their position, prior to bringing in more troops.

“Right, follow me!” cried Sergeant Stone.

He ran off ahead of the marines, and without even considering the consequences, the marines chased after him. They held their rifles and carbines low and ready, with their bayonets fixed. It almost felt like being out on yet another run to Jack. They moved fast, and the air regulator was pushed hard to keep a solid supply of oxygen to his lungs. The armor felt heavy around his legs, but he pushed on. Then he spotted two Animosh scouts waiting at the end of the path. The Sergeant ran past them as though they weren’t there, and the following marines shot them with subsonic silenced rounds from their carbines.

Poor bastards,
Jack thought, as he ran past the bodies.

Wictred moved past him and threw himself at a weapons mount that was only half assembled. It was based around a large platform and fitted out with a pair of large caliber guns. He smashed it from its mount and kicked the single worker who was still trying to fix the mounting. His metal boot crashed into his victim’s head. He looked at the weapon as the other marines surged past. With a single pull, he ripped out the gun from its mount and cradled it in his arms. Jack stopped and looked at his friend who was already checking the unit. He turned his head and grinned widely at Jack.

“You have to get the biggest gun, don’t you?” he laughed.

Wictred nodded and rested the unit on his left arm.

“Why not?”

More marines ran past, and Jack waved at Wictred.

“Come on, you fool. We have to keep moving.”

Everything seemed to slow down to Jack as they worked their way down the path and toward the platform and entrance to the tunnel. It took nearly a minute for the two to work their way back to the front of the squad. By the time they were near the Sergeant, they were past the last bend and moving down to the platform. Flood lamps shone down from both sides and cast a vivid yellow hue on the ground. Flickering light rippled around when a dozen Animosh spotted their approach. Their crates of weapons and supplies offered limited protection as they rushed through the middle of the surprised Animosh. Five were busy unloading gear, and Wictred and Jack crashed into them with their guns blazing and stabbing wildly with their small arms.

“Die!” roared Wictred. He pulled the trigger on the gun mount he was still carrying like some valuable prize. The weapon shuddered, and his body shook as the great gouts of flame cut two Animosh to shredded chunks of blood and armor.

“Keep moving!” shouted Sergeant Stone with a hint of amusement.

Stone brushed past and covered another thirty meters to the platform. Some of the marines returned fire, but most of them chased after their Sergeant. The tunnel ran along the platform, much like the old-fashioned railways still used on Alliance colonies. Three large vehicles waited on the track with tons of supplies sitting on them. Sergeant Stone leapt from the edge onto the first one, landing on its flat bed at the rear. Four of the guards tried to stop him, but he embedded his bayonet deep into the first’s chest and then ripped his pistol from his thigh, firing at the rest.

“Duck!” Jack cried, landing next to the Sergeant.

Without checking, the Sergeant ducked down as a blade swung over his head. Jack cut the enemy down with carbine fire, as a door opened on the vehicle. More Animosh streamed out, but Wictred arrived and blocked their path like a metal giant. He struck down two with the gun; the others panicked and tried to run. The powerful weapon seemed to terrify them with its close ranged brutality. Some were cut down as they fled. It roared like a tank’s secondary weapons. The small number of survivors threw down their weapons and surrendered on the spot. It was over before it really began.