Ragnarok (The Guardian War Book 2)

By Michael G. Thomas

The war against the Guardians begins with a stunning victory on the lost world of Alkonost.

The battle takes heavy toll on Spartan’s assault force and leaves him badly wounded and in an induced coma. By the time the battered but victorious fleet reaches the Hellstorm refugee fleet, news has already arrived of their victory against the undefeatable enemy. Inspired by multiple victories, as well as critical information recovered from Alkonost, these once scattered and defeated people are united. And together they begin their holy war that will wipe away every taint of the Guardians and restore their old empire.

The war is a disaster, with dozens of ships lost, and thousands of Humans, Byotai and Trusskans missing in action in the first major engagement. Though not fully recovered from his brutal injuries, Spartan will not rest. He finds his depleted forces are ill-prepared for a rescue operation and are held back by the Trusskans who will not help, but Spartan will not give up. He has a surprise of his own, a ship that fuses Alliance engineering and Byotai weapons technology into a battlecruiser powerful enough to take on any that stand in his way. A warship built to end worlds. And he will fight against any that stand in his path to save his friends.

RAGNAROK is the second book in a brand-new series in the style of Starship Troopers, Aliens and Battlestar Galactica, and set in the bestselling Star Crusades universe. A unique story that will take the reader to new worlds, and ancient foes never seen before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swordworks Books
• Release date: Nov 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463020746

Michael G. Thomas

Michael G. Thomas, is a writer, martial artist and military historian. He has written books on European martial arts and military history as well as Zombie Survival books and fiction. He is the co-founder of the prestigious Academy of Historical Fencing that teaches traditional armed and unarmed European martial arts. His specialist subject areas are teaching the use of the medieval two handed longsword and the German long knife in both the UK and other parts of Europe.He academic background is as varied as his writing with degrees in Computing, Classical Studies and Machine Learning. In recent years he has undertaken substantial research in the fields of machine learning and artificial intelligence as well as Ancient Greek and Byzantine military history.Michael is currently completing his Champions of the Apocalypse Series and Star Crusades science fiction series.

Book preview

Ragnarok

THE GUARDIAN WAR

By Michael G. Thomas

Part of the STAR CRUSADES universe

Copyright © 2019 Swordworks Books

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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PROLOGUE

The ancient and powerful race of Guardians had been encountered only once before by Humanity. A mysterious ship known simply as the T'Kari Derelict had been found adrift and approaching inhabited space. Any vessel moving too close was lost, and only a massed assault by Spartan and the IAB was able to contain the threat, but at great cost. The sinister machine intelligence held within the ship disabled or took control of any computerised equipment and turned them against the marines. It was a lesson well remembered by those now working alongside the Trusskan refugees, and one that reminded them that these intelligent machines could not be allowed to survive. Every motor, servo, and control processor had to be wiped from the galaxy before they could return home. The battle for survival was now a holy war.

A Brief History of the Alliance

The Guardian War, Day 561

Former Ziame Homeworld of Alkonost

The Mauler shook violently as it hurtled through the upper atmosphere towards its destination. The heavily armoured landing craft was proof against most conventional weapons, yet every soul onboard knew a single breach at this speed could tear the spacecraft apart with ease. The next minute was the most perilous part of the orbital assault. Something went bang, and a massive shudder shook the craft so hard that Spartan almost passed out.

Pilot, report!

We’re all fine, General. Something went through the intake and right through the secondary intercooler. We’ve taken some damage, but we’ll get to the surface.

One of the younger marines laughed, and Spartan was taken back many decades before, when as a young man he’d been a lowly marine during the high-speed assault against the Titan Naval Station. It had been his first real experience of infantry combat, and though brutal and violent, it introduced him to a life he’d never really left.

Getting down ain’t the problem, pilot.

Some of the others laughed, and even Spartan had to admit the man wasn’t wrong. He tried not to laugh and had to turn away for a moment to make sure he couldn’t be seen. It was classic trench humour, and the kind of thing he’d have said if he wasn’t in charge of this operation.

Well, let’s make sure we hit the ground running, right?

Understood, General. We’re doing the best we can.

Spartan tapped the integral Secpad unit built into his arm and checked the data given to them by Horta and her intelligence officers. It showed a complex urban layout, and multiple approach vectors to remain hidden from sensors for as long as possible.

We should have run a drone recon before we started this.

The Mauler shook again, and most of the violence of the descent quickly disappeared.

We’re through, said the pilot with relief, Heading to the drop area now.

What about the rest?

There was a short pause before the man answered, and in that time a hundred different scenarios ran inside Spartan’s mind. Anything from them being the only craft through to one where a number of craft were spinning out of control as they headed to the surface. There were no lifepods on board for the passengers, and if the Mauler was too badly damaged, they had little to look forward to other than a quick ride to the surface, and an ignominious death as they smashed into the dead city far below.

Well?

Sorry, Sir, had a heating problem for a second. Everybody made it through. Some light damage, but all drones, landers, dropships, and escort fighters are where they should be.

Good work.

He reached to the Secpad with his left arm and tapped it, feeling pain in his right arm as he tensed his muscles. It wasn’t the arm that actually hurt, but his upper ribs. He’d taken a strike from a Guardian in their previous battles, and though he’d survived the attack, it had caused a myriad of problems with his aging body. He’d been in action against the machines almost non-stop for now what seemed like an eternity, and both his body and mind were beginning to show the strain.

Spartan? Khan asked, Are you injured?

Spartan shook his head.

Wounds from the assault on Elinx 3 are still not completely healed.

I told you we should delay this attack. A damaged soldier is a liability in battle.

Thanks for the pep talk. Spartan chuckled, It’s just bruising and some partially healed fractures. Time will fix it.

Khan laughed, that guttural roar that only his people could ever emit, before looking to the target directly ahead.

Another day, another battle. These machines just don’t know when to quit.

Alkonost was a large world, surrounded by a myriad of over-developed natural satellites and a single large moon. It was one of many impressive planets in the House Ziame System, yet there was something different about this planet, something that set it apart from the rest. In the past it might have been the civil and military capital of the entire House Ziame civilisation, but those days were long gone. Its breathable atmosphere was little more than a distant memory, replaced by a noxious combination of carbon dioxide and opaque clouds of sulphuric acid. It was a dead world, one that had clearly not been lived in for many years. Every square kilometre of the surface was covered in tall, odd-looking buildings and structures that reached up to the cloud-filled skies. No lights came from any of them, and at least half showed signs of major damage or even partial collapse.

Entire city blocks had been reduced to heaps of rubble, and hundreds of unidentified wrecked machines and crippled spacecraft littered the world. It was more than just a dead world. It was all that remained of a thriving planet, destroyed in an apocalyptical war that had left not one soul alive. The only sign of habitation was the tall mountain that rose up like a knife in the centre of the urban sprawl. Rings of buildings, all of which glowed bright red through the poisonous clouds, surrounded it. Energy crackled and licked about the city-sized structure, betraying its use for some significant and nefarious purpose.

That’s it? Khan pointed to the display fitted inside the Mauler landing craft. It showed the view ahead of the fleet through the acidic clouds and brutal weather conditions that made life all but impossible, We’ve been fighting our way here for months, and this mysterious city of gold is just rubble.

Yeah, said Spartan, Looks like it.

Well…great, Khan grumbled, Eighteen months out here and we’ve still not found a planet with anything more than a blade of grass on it. Now we get here, and look at the place. It’s not pretty.

Don’t forget that if these machines make it to our territory, it could be us next.

They both looked at the distant shape with interest. Its size and colour were made that much grander by the dark and stark ruins of the vast city that covered every square metre of the planet.

If our intel is right, that there is the Alkonost Landing, and our target.

Khan laughed to himself.

The Trusskans have been running scared for centuries. We show up and soon we’re hitting these machines on their own ground. You’d think they might invest in their military instead of building floating cities to hide away inside.

Spartan looked nonplussed.

The Trusskans have been slaughtered for centuries. I guess so much destruction has taken away their fire for violence.

His shoulder raised in a mock shrug.

Based on this world it looks like a lifetime of war didn’t serve them too well. I guess survival trumps everything else after so long.

To their shame, said Khan, The day you lose your fire is the day you curl up and die. There’s a reason they travel in refugee fleets now.

Maybe, said Spartan.

As they watched the forward view, a dozen waypoint and target markers appeared around the facility. Each of them had seen the mission briefing, as well as tactical maps of the area, but none of that had suggested the vast scale and power of their target.

And right there in the middle is the Foundry. The place where the first Guardians were built. The machines that have declared genocide against all life.

And those things? Khan asked.

Spartan nodded.

Those massive platforms built in a ring around the Foundry?

Khan nodded.

Apparently, that’s where they built the ships. And they look pretty huge to me.

He then shrugged and shook his head.

That’s what Horta said, anyway. Looks to me like the days of mass manufacture are long gone. Why keep building ships if you don’t need them?

That doesn’t make any sense, said the recently promoted Captain Armstrong, These machines are programmed to destroy life, right? What do they care about resources? Surely they’ll keep building and fighting until the Trusskans are gone?

Good point, said Spartan, And an interesting one.

A few more minutes, said the pilot, Buckle yourselves in, because Alkonost Landing just lit up like a Christmas tree. They know we’re coming.

You heard the man, said Spartan, Buckle up. It might be quiet down there, but you can bet your ass they have active defences.

He opened his comms channel to the entire assault force.

This is Spartan. They know we’re coming. Remember your training and get in fast. It is…

He stopped speaking as half of the distant structure flickered with light. Anybody else might have looked on with curiosity, but he knew what it really was.

Hold on!

Streaks of energy expanded out in a thousand directions from hidden gun platforms hitting out at any signs of danger. The Mauler landing craft rolled to the right to avoid enemy fire, and then dropped back into position while firing its weapons. The craft looked like a flying brick and would win no prizes for aesthetics or style. Luckily, good looks were not a requirement for such a functionary machine. The Mauler was well named, a brute of a craft perfectly designed for the job it had been designed for. Dropships were fast and agile, but the Mauler was not designed for complex operations. It was built to use as a hammer, to smash through defences in one piece, and to unload its cargo of elite soldiers into battle.

An energy beam reached up and struck the side of the craft. Earlier variants might have been torn about by the impact, but the design had been in use for so long it had been upgraded numerous times. As well as active armour, it was also fitted with ablative armour designed to be destroyed, while the structural integrity of the craft remained intact. The impact blasted large sections of armour away, as well as crippling one of the four main engine units. Even this damaged, the Mauler pushed on as though it had sustained little more than a flesh wound. It avoided another blast and then rolled beneath a half-collapsed bridge that connected two building almost a kilometre from the surface.

You’re not serious? Captain Armstrong was positioned behind Spartan and holding onto his harness for all he was worth. He’d fought against Starfire as a lieutenant commanding the 1st Platoon of Khan’s elite Blood Company, but now led the entire unit. This freed up Khan who could concentrate his attention on working with Spartan to carry out one battle after another.

I think our pilot is deadly serious, laughed Spartan.

The Mauler rushed out from underneath and rejoined the formation of spacecraft. The alien fighters were almost on top of them and firing as they came. There weren’t many, and though fast and powerful, they’d been caught off-guard. For each fighter that moved into attack came four Alliance fighters or drones from above. They took losses, but the Guardian fighters were soon down to three in less than a minute of fighting.

This is more like it, said Spartan as he watched the battle unfolding before him, They’re not so tough on their own turf, are they?

Khan laughed loudly.

Clearly, they’ve put no thought or effort into defence.

Why would they? Nobody dares threaten them, said Master Sergeant Tyler, This place is a factory, right? It’s just machinery and buildings. I say we should have nuked the place from orbit.

Spartan shook his head.

Horta said it’s armoured against orbital attack. She said once it is sealed, no weapon will penetrate it. And, we’re not here just to smash the place, remember.

Khan grunted in reply.

I remember. Horta says this foundry and factory complex is part of their manufacturing network. We need strategic data on the Guardians. Where they are, and what assets they have if we’re gonna have any chance of surviving against them out here.

True, said Spartan, She said at the last count they had more than twenty separate fleets hunting down the Trusskan people. That a lot of ships, assuming any of it is true.

Khan snorted, and then spat on the floor.

Horta. I want to see this information for myself. These Trusskans don’t convince me.

I can’t argue with that, said the Captain, And as for those defences, they seem pretty keen to keep us away. The information is no good if we’re already dead.

Spartan laughed at that.

Maybe. In any case, today is payback time. We get the intel, and we cause some damage.

Yeah, said Khan, That’s the kind of mission I like. Ship battles are one thing, but it’s nice to get your feet on something a little firmer for a while.

As always, Spartan travelled with a tough and experienced retinue of his most trusted and experienced warriors. Several of the marines muttered in agreement from inside the armoured confines of the landing craft. Spartan looked at the waiting men and women of his assault team. Everyone was fully enclosed inside standard issue Shadow Armour and carrying a mixture of weapons from carbines and rifles to more exotic devices. They were members of Khan’s elite Blood Company, a bonded unit of the biggest and toughest soldiers he’d been able to find. Almost half carried additional improvised plates on their torsos and shoulders. Many carried even heavier armour in the form of shields fused directly into the hands and forearms.

We get in fast, take any intelligence we can find, and then blow the place from the inside. No lingering about, understood?

Lieutenant Kipling, the commanding officer of 2nd Platoon gave him a quick nod back.

Understood, he said grimly, We won’t hang around a second longer than needed.

In the months they’d been here his armour had evolved beyond anything normally issued to marines. It had been supplemented with additional plates as now used by many of the marines. Spartan had also abandoned his carbine and moved to a Trusskan energy rifle, a weapon that could blast armour apart like wet tissue paper, and a big improvement on the weapons he normally used. Even so, he still carried a stripped down L52S Mark II Assault Pistol. He’d seen Syala and her Widows make use of them and had adopted the weapon as a useful sidearm and backup in case he lost his main weapons. It was also fitted with a sprung M11 tactical bayonet, something he never entered the battlefield without.

Hold on, said the pilot, We’ve got incoming fighters.

Spartan swallowed uncomfortably. He could deal with enemy soldiers one on one, but as they descended through this city, he was helpless against gunfire and alien fighters. He would need to rely upon his skilled crew to do their work and hope that a stray burst of fire didn’t end his life on this forsaken rock of a planet. As they passed the next structure, they were granted an unobstructed view of the distant Alkonost Landing. Something massive was rising up from one of the platforms, and above it three Trusskan ships were blasting away at it.

Spartan, are you seeing this? Captain Armstrong looked at two separate video feeds of the target area, Looks like something that might have been of use to us.

Yeah. Looks like our allies are taking out their anger on a half-completed ship. That thing doesn’t even look like a warship to me. Maybe a cargo or transport ship.

He gasped as two more explosions ripped sections from its hull. The Trusskan spacecraft were taking no chances as they continued to blast it apart.

Well…it’s not much of a victory, but they’re going for it.

The vessel was open to the elements along the left-hand side of the hull, and there were gaps big enough to fly a fighter through. The basic integrity of the vessel appeared intact, and the engines and manoeuvring thrusters pulsed with energy as it struggled to escape.

That doesn’t look like a Guardian ship to me, said Khan, It’s nothing like the ones we’ve seen. These Trusskans have a lot of pent-up rage.

He nodded to himself.

I can respect that.

They watched in silence for a few seconds as the unfortunate vessel was surrounded by a horde of fighters and gunships. It was already ablaze when it finally split apart under an avalanche of fire from the attacking ships. With no active weapons and limited defences, it proved a sitting duck for the violence of the approaching ships. The entire stern split apart as a torrent of missile file tore it away from the rest of the ship, showering the area with a bright flurry of fire and sparks. The broken wreckage dropped down to the surface of the planet. It was a truly gigantic vessel and filled the sky with bright colours. Fires and explosions wracked the ship’s hull as it descended into the myriad of collapsed structures that had once been a city.

Yeah, said Khan, waiting next to him, But we’re not leaving until we’ve caused a ruckus. We’ve all got scores to settle.

The troll-like warrior seemed like a monster next to the marines, even though they barely noticed the difference anymore. He was one of them, just bigger, tougher, meaner, and stronger than perhaps the entire unit combined. He was encased inside his heavy metal armour and carrying an array of powerful weaponry in his hands and attached to his combat armour. The double-barrelled rifle known as a Thumper was one of the weapons growing in popularity amongst his kind. It was based on the previous standard-issue weapon of the Marine Corps, but included the innards of two complete weapons fitted inside a skeleton carbine stock and fed by a single box magazine, containing fifty rounds of 12.7mm tip-hardened explosive slugs. The guns were short-ranged, very powerful, and perfectly suited the propensity for close combat for the Jötnar.

The Thumper was not the only firearm fitted to the JAS Jötnar Assault Suit. It could also operate a single shoulder-mounted weapon, and Khan still found the heavily modified L56 Mark III fitted on a fully rotating gimbal to be his favourite. It was essentially a larger scale version of the L52 carbine, but with five long barrels and two separate ammunition feeds that ran into a pair of large boxes on his back. This, combined with the serrated blades fitted to his arms, transformed him into a walking monster that few if any could dare to stop.

Hold on. The next part is gonna get a little rough.

Beams of light hammered into the clouds as the planetary defences fought desperately against the surprise attack. The Foundry itself was protected with numerous defences, but the weapons appeared designed to use against capital ships rather than dropships, fighters, and drones. Many of the beams were easily avoided by the fast craft as they inched ever closer to their targets. Missiles and guns returned along the same trajectory as the mighty coalition launched their attack. Explosions wracked the defences as they were torn apart, clearing the path towards the largest structures in the ruins of the old city. Once enemies, the combined forces of the Alliance, Byotai, and Trusskans swept in low and fast against the alien defences. One beam