Space Marine Loki (Extinction Fleet Book 2) Read online

Another drone was cut down on the right flank and Ajax looked down to see that even though he was rapidly bleeding out from his shorn leg, Ford was still in the fight. A normal man might have passed out by now, from the blood loss if not the pain, but like Ajax, the marine had become something harder than a normal man, something forged upon the anvil of endless war. Ajax, hoping to buy Ford a few more minutes of combat effectiveness, knelt down next to the wounded marine.

  "This is going to hurt," said Ajax as he slid his booted foot under Ford's leg to raise the wounded stump off the ground.

  Ford said nothing, simply gritting his teeth and swapped out his empty magazine for a fresh one. Ajax held the breach of his weapon near the ragged wound, and then pulled back the slide. The pulse rifles built up tremendous amounts of heat as they were fired, and after every ten shots they needed to be vented in order to prevent an automatic shutdown. The ejected heat instantly cauterized Ford's wound, and while the man roared in pain, at least he would not bleed out anytime soon. If he survived the battle a new limb could be grown, and if he did not the torc would be used to resurrect him. As it was Ajax dosed his comrade with combat meds, giving the wounded man enough of a boost to hold his rifle steady as Ajax lifted him up using one arm.

  The two men turned back to the marine firing line to see that Sharif was back on his feet and the group was ready to move out. There were still several dozen meters of boulder field to clear before they reached the base of the tower, and they needed every rifle they could get. Ajax nodded at Sharif and the marine gave the signal to press onwards.

  From a tactical perspective, it was madness to attack a garm held position, given that in general the garm wanted the enemy closer, as the garm were far superior to the marines in close quarters fighting. Yet here they were, marching towards the enemy instead of holding a line against them, and to Ajax it felt good. Humanity was on the offensive, and the aliens were struggling to cope.

  Ajax and Ford combined their fire to annihilate a drone that attempted to slip up behind the marines, the alien beast having likely moved in from attacking another group, judging by the gore still dripping from its maw.

  Ford was quaking as he struggled to stand, and even with the help of Ajax it was clear that soon he would be done. Just ahead of them, Rama and Yao took another shrieker out of the sky, leaving the air above them finally empty of alien threats.

  When Yao lowered his rifle to vent the heat, a great roar sounded across the battlefield and more of the drones hurled themselves recklessly against the firing line. Ajax watched as Yao fired from the hip on full-auto and splattered two drones before a third, heedless of having had several of its limbs blasted off, careened into the human warrior.

  Rippers had been bred by the extinction fleet to be mindless combat drones, and were by design, not equipped with a survival instinct, much less fear. The beast drove one of its body blades through Yao's mid-section as it crushed the marine's helmet with its hideous, fanged jaws. The marine continued to fire as he went down and the alien and human died together. Only the automatic venting protection kept Yao's weapon from taking out any of his nearby comrades.

  Ajax and Ford poured their own fire into the gap in the line left by Yao's death and another drone was pasted across the rocky ground. Ford's one leg finally gave out and the marine collapsed, falling away from Ajax as he dropped his rifle in exhaustion.

  Ajax didn’t have the chance to kneel and check on his comrade, as the furious last charge of the drones raged against the dwindling firepower of the marines. It was this relentless drone assault that had overwhelmed the marine trench networks just as many times as it had broken against the ramparts, only this time the Einherjar were on open ground.

  Ajax kept shooting, maintaining his firing discipline with a keen understanding that the only way out of this situation was to kill absolutely everything on the island.

  The drones, and most of the garm broods for that matter, only attacked, never retreated, and if they did withdraw, it was only to maneuver for a better angle. The drones continued to rush into the blazing guns of the marines until at last, the corpse of the final beast smacked wetly against the ground in front of the marines.

  Sharif gave the hand signal to advance, and the handful of marines in the assault squad who survived slapped fresh carbon magazines into their pulse rifles and moved forward.

  Ajax saw that Ford had either passed out or died, and did not have the time to check. The marine was out of the fight, and for now that was all that mattered. Moments later they reached the edge of the boulder field, and Sharif gestured for a halt.

  "First wave in position!" announced Sharif through the company channel when they reached their destination.

  "Second wave advance!" responded Jarl Mahora. "Shieldwall on my order. Check your downrange and minimize friendly fire casualties. We are about to tighten the noose."

  Ajax crouched behind a small boulder, sweeping his vision through the iron sights of his rifle back and forth across the open ground around the stone tower. Recon data indicated that there were at least two sea cave entrances at the base of the tower, and Ajax was beyond certain that their true prey awaited them in those twisted watery depths. Hydra Company had suffered mightily to secure the beachhead, such was the fate of all first waves in an assault on a secured position. Soon the marines of Gorgon Company would finish moving through the debris field, and assuming their advance upon the tower was a success, they would then be reinforced by Manticore Company.

  "Getting that special feeling, Bloodhound?" asked Rama as the sound of the armored boots of Gorgon marines grew near.

  "I've been buzzing since we made planetfall," answered Ajax, flexing his fingers on the rifle's grip. He hated the nickname, though sadly it had become rather appropriate. The knowledge of his 'gift' had spread quickly through the ranks of the task force, and it had not taken long for the marines to dub him with the moniker.

  "I'm surprised they’re holding back," observed Sharif, "There must be at least one or two Wargarm down there holding the swarms on a tight leash, else they'd have come at us by now."

  "There's something worse than a Wargarm down there, brother," Ajax assured his comrades as the Gorgon marines reached their position, each man among them carrying the interlocking mobile flak boards that would allow them to advance with some modicum of protection.

  "Another Grendel," said a Gorgon marine with a jovial tone that was rather out of place amidst the piles of bodies and broken stones as he marched up to Ajax, the name Jorah stenciled upon his chest plate. "We’ll get you to those caves, Bloodhound, just save a piece of that monster for the rest of us, okay?"

  Ajax nodded his thanks and turned back towards the open ground before them. Most of the marines outside Hydra Company did not know Ajax by his face, though he had his name stenciled on his armor like every other marine. The tale of his dance with Grendel across several battles on Heorot had become something of legend amongst the marines of the task force.

  His ability to focus his awareness of the garm was not sufficiently strong for him to hunt down an individual alien, it was more impressions and sensations. He felt less like a bloodhound and more like a fortune teller, honestly, though it gave the marines a morale boost to think of him as having powers more precise. The skalds and jarls had insisted that he not take steps to divest the marines of that illusion, so yet again, Ajax found himself compelled to maintain a level of secrecy from his battle brothers. It cost him something to nod his thanks, but it was a price that had to be paid.

  "Second wave in position," said Jorah over the company channel. "On you, Mahora."

  "Shieldwall!" bellowed the jarl and as one, the marines of Gorgon Company stepped out from behind cover and began locking their flak boards together to form the armored infantry wall.

  Ajax felt his heart pounding in his chest like a drum as the impressive line of marines advanced. As the Gorgon marines cleared the boulder field, the remaining Hydra marines fell in behind them. Their boots crunchi
ng on the rocky ground as they marched.

  The wall had moved only a few meters towards the tower when the enemy responded with extreme prejudice.

  PHALANX

  Ajax involuntarily sucked in his breath as the swarm of gorehounds erupted from several depressions at the base of the tower, presumably entrances to the vast sea cave network described in the Kai Prime briefing.

  No matter how many times he stood against the garm, the gorehounds in particular were a troublesome opponent to face without some degree of nausea present. The hideous creatures were essentially living guns that galloped on cloven-hooves, and when they achieved range their weapons were more horrifying yet.

  The marine in front of Ajax began firing the second the gorehounds came into range. For what it was worth, the marines would have a few precious moments of free fire before the enemy’s weapons achieved their own range.

  Jorah held his shield in above the first marine and locked it into place alongside the men to his left and right. It was a solid wall of flak board, each shield offering a firing port for the marines who crouched low.

  Ajax marched just behind the two men, the marine himself forming the supporting line. If the marine in front died and fell, it was Jorah’s job was to assume the crouching position and Ajax would then step into the covering position Jorah had just vacated.

  To fight on open ground like this, to advance against an enemy such as the garm, was a guarantee that the conflict would be little more than a bloody grind. The Einherjar were betting that they could best the enemy in what appeared to be a war of attrition, a situation usually favoring the garm.

  The marine formations started opening up across the island. Soon the thunder of dozens of pulse rifles hurling plasma at the alien menace gave Ajax a measure of strength. It was a small thing, a lessening of the exhaustion as even more adrenaline flooded his system, but it was significant in its effect. No amount of combat drugs could compare to the thrill of righteously unleashing violent death upon a deserving opponent. Ajax flexed his fingers on his rifle and very nearly felt guilty about his burning desire to get into the fight, as doing so would mean that at least one of the men in front of him had been slain and left a place for him to take.

  For a moment, Ajax considered shoving Jorah and the other marine out of the way so that he could get a clean shot at the enemy. Darker thoughts threatened to bubble up into his consciousness, anger that men stood between him and the nightmare creatures and Ajax had to shake his head to clear them from his mind. That was the black trying to swallow him, and he could not give it any space in his thoughts. To steady himself Ajax placed a hand on Jorah’s shoulder.

  The advancing marine did not seem to notice the gesture, as it was a common enough movement when marines stacked up to assault an objective. Ajax kept his head down and focused on his breathing as the formation pushed forward. No sense in working himself up until it was his turn to fight, for now he just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He could hear the screams of dying gorehounds as the marines poured on the damage, and within seconds, the man in front paused in his fusillade to vent the heat of his rifle.

  Just before the marine was able to return to his work, his shield, and much of the rest of those held by the front line, bucked wildly as the gorehounds found their range.

  Hundreds of tiny grubs impacted against the flak board as the marine did his best to hold it up against the attack. Ajax knew that many of the grubs would simply splatter against the surface of the shield, though a certain number of them would survive the initial collision. Those few survivors would feed voraciously upon the shield, literally chewing their way through the hard material and gorging themselves to the point of exploding.

  Luckily, the shield held, even if just barely, and the marine returned fire. From the screams, he heard on both sides of him, Ajax knew that several of the other marines on the front had not been so blessed. As the formation marched forward, he cast his glance up and down the line and saw the broken and twisted bodies of marines being left behind on the broken ground.

  A shout of pain snapped Ajax’s sight back to the marine in front of him just in time to see the shield collapse under the pressure of a second salvo from the gorehounds.

  The marine’s body shuddered as dozens of grubs rapidly burrowed through his body armor. He dropped his rifle and the remnants of his shield as he fell on his back. Without pause, Jorah lowered his shield while still marching and crouched as he began squeezing the trigger of his pulse rifle. Ajax slung the flak board off of his shoulder and raise it over his head while stepping around the writhing marine. As Ajax moved past him, the fallen marine’s body jerked violently as the few grubs that had managed to chew through his armor to reach flesh, exploded from their meal, and Ajax knew that if the feeding didn’t kill the man, the wet detonations certainly would.

  Ajax slotted his shield into place just above Jorah, and almost immediately he had to brace himself against the force of another barrage of grub rounds from the swarm.

  “Top line, full auto in two breaths!” boomed the voice of Jarl Mahora, and Ajax sucked in the first breath as he selected full auto on his rifle.

  At the second breath, he lifted his shield up just enough to set the barrel of his rifle on the top of Jorah’s shield. Ajax squeezed the trigger, pulling down on his shield while Jorah pushed up, keeping the weapon from kicking out of position. Ajax could not see what he was shooting at, the tactic was more about buying Jorah and the other marines in his position time to either vent their rifles or swap out carbon magazines.

  They were advancing even as the garm rushed towards them, and there would be precious little time to keep up the shooting before the battle devolved into close quarters, a situation which vastly favored the garm. Even gorehounds that had expended all of their grub sacks were still equipped with razor sharp hooves and teeth as long as a man’s finger.

  Ajax’s pulse rifle roared as it hurled round after round into the thick press of alien bodies. They were so close now that the risk of friendly fire was negligible as bolts tore through the tight ranks of the enemy. Though Ajax could not see the gorehounds, the sound of their bestial screams and the cacophony of their messy deaths made it clear that the swarm was almost upon them. Likely it would be this close across the entire battlefront. They were taking a gamble attacking this way, and Ajax could only hope that the skald’s plan would bear fruit before the marine formation was shattered by close quarters contact.

  His weapon seized up just as the magazine went empty, and Ajax knew that even if he vented the excess heat and put in a new magazine it would be several moments before the weapon would be ready to fire again. Going full auto was as desperate as it was devastating, and Ajax slung his rifle the moment it stopped firing. He slid his side arm out of the holster on his hip and thumbed off the safety.

  It had been a long time since he’d used a pistol in battle against the garm, usually the fighting was done or he was dead before such holdout weapons found their use. The pistols were not overly effective, even though they were smaller versions of the pulse rifles, as they had drastically less stopping power. He knew as the grip filled his hand that the pistol would be good for maybe one kill if he was lucky, before it either over heated or he was torn to pieces.

  Another mighty volley of grub rounds crashed against the shieldwall as the surviving gorehounds responded, and both Jorah and Ajax struggled to keep their shields in place. The moment after impact, Ajax pitched his ruined shield over his shoulder and raised his pistol.

  Jorah had already discarded his own shield and was venting his pulse rifle while taking a knee. The formation had halted across the battlefront. Most of the marines had lost their shields and were preparing for a grisly death in melee with the garm.

  Ajax could see the corpse littered ground ahead. The gorehound swarm, while nearly wiped out, still had enough strength to make the marines pay dearly for their advance.

  As he raised his pistol and filled his sights
with the enemy, the psychic pressure of the garm exploded within his mind. He was nearly forced to his knees as the Wargarm emerged from the base of the tower.

  He could feel them in his mind, and they were enraged.

  The Wargarm were not sentient in the classic sense, though they were much more advanced organisms than the cannon fodder that comprised the bulk of the garm swarms. The multitude of hideous creatures that comprised the extinction fleet were simple beings, running on genetic programming and raw instinct.

  The Wargarm functioned in a way, like squad leaders, to Ajax’s thinking, in that they could exert what the Einherjar now knew was a sort of psychic control over the lesser garm organisms. At first, it was thought this swarm hierarchy was a chemical relationship, and while it could still have that component, the fighting on Heorot, and Ajax’s own bond with the Wargarm hybrid known as Grendel, indicated a deep psychic connection among the alien invaders.

  Ajax knew when the three Wargarm appeared, that they were desperate to defend whatever was down in those caves. The Wargarm might still have only a simple intellect when it came to modern combat, but they were not the relentless attackers that the other swarms were.

  Wargarm had proven themselves capable of modest tactical decisions like disengaging from conflict, taking cover to avoid being gunned down and, ever since those first engagements on Heorot, the capacity to single out individual marines for slaughter instead of simply attacking whoever was closest.

  Ajax prepared for death as the Wargarm and the handful of gorehounds that remained prepared to attack. Then he heard the roar of engines that held a slim promise of survival.

  “Edda Five, engaging!” announced the familiar voice of Skald Omar as the special forces gunship streaked over the heads of the embattled marines on the island.

  The gunship Edda Five had been seconded to the task force and given a berth upon Bright Lance. While the marine legions of the Einherjar typically enjoyed modest air support in the form of Ravens, which were small one-man craft that sported a mounted pulse rifle, those were typically used for recon. Long ago, the forces of humanity had learned the hard way that any air support committed to the field would have to contend with the suicidal shrieker swarms that would hurl themselves into every engine port or propeller blade they could.