Major Daniels took over and waited for Spartan to move aside. Some seemed interested, but there was an obvious sense of disappointment in the hall.
“I know this isn’t what you expected, but we use what we have. The Vanguards will not be operating as an independent unit anymore, but we should use this as an opportunity to increase our capabilities. We will provide a high-level leadership structure within the Jötnar that is currently lacking. This will allow us to make the most effective use of their abilities while ensuring they operate with other Confed forces correctly. To do this, I will be assembling a command staff on the Yorkdale taken from the best of this team.”
The display switched to a diagram of a company of warriors. It was split into multiple branches, much like a tree.
“Assault Battalion will be based around a number of companies. You will of course be based in the first of these new units. Unlike the squad and platoon system used elsewhere, the Assault Battalion will be reorganised on a simple ten-man system. Each of you is more powerful, more capable and much larger than an equivalent soldier or marine. These ten-man squads will consist of Vanguards, Jötnar or mixed units led by an NCO. Existing officers will assist in the command of other companies. This close integration will allow us to build a deadly team, combining the firepower and armour of the Vanguards with the brutal fighting power of the Jötnar. Initially, each of the squads in the 1st Company will be commanded by Vanguards, but as the Jötnar gain experience, they will be given equal opportunity to commands the units. Before I get to the details, are there any questions?”
A few hands went up, most coming from near Sergeant Keller and his squad. Major Daniels pointed to one of them.
“Sir. We heard rumours that this is a punishment detail. We’ve fought hard and done as we were told, and now we’re being dumped on a wrecked transport ship. The Jötnar posting is the lowest we can go, Sir.”
Major Daniels brushed the marine’s comments aside.
“Really, Private? The Jötnar are the toughest and strongest troops in the Confederate military. I consider it an honour to fight alongside them. What better unit is there in the fleet to match our skills than the Jötnar?”
Another marine shook his head and started to speak without raising his hand.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but we can’t just take this. They speak of them as though they are allies from decades ago. Apart from the one the Lieutenant is friends with, what do we actually know about them? Some of them fought on the Vengeance and one company landed on Euryale to help with the mopping up. Then we give them their own ships, weapons and crew.”
“You don’t trust them, Corporal?”
The marine shook his head.
“No, Sir.”
“Well, I can understand that, but don’t underestimate what they have already done. The Jötnar are not just on the Yorkdale. They have already provided small squads for bodyguard work, boarding actions and fighting on four separate worlds. They have earned our respect, yet never asked for it.”
He looked around the room but decided to continue speaking when he saw an ever-growing number of hands being raised. The discussion was being held to let them speak their minds, but he was under no illusion that the actual job was to inform them all of the changes.
“Nonetheless, we will still be transferring to the ship and begin integration of combat units immediately. The Yorkdale has over sixteen hundred fit and able warriors. We have just over sixty Vanguards to add to this with more to follow. The first fifteen companies will be ready for combat within the week and are to include one mixed company and fourteen Jötnar companies. We have to be ready and fast. Our orders include the battalion’s first independent operation, and it is going to be one of the toughest I have ever seen. I can’t give you the details yet, but it will require a substantial full frontal assault using all our assets. Perhaps when that battle is over you will feel differently.”
He waited, giving the marines the opportunity to discuss the situation. It was clear there would be dissent in the unit over the changes. Both the company and Spartan were being punished, but privately the Major was happy at the prospect of being able to operate more independently. He lifted his hand to continue.
“Equipment is already being transported to the Yorkdale. This is a volunteer assignment. You can return to your previous units or come with me to the Yorkdale. The Jötnar are our allies, and they offer much and ask for little. All I ask is that we give them, and us, the chance to prove ourselves.”
He pointed to Spartan and Lieutenant Weathers, the unit’s two platoon leaders. The two men moved to the sides of the hall and stood in plain sight.
“I want you to decide right now. Will you stay with the Vanguards, and join the Jötnar to create the new Assault Battalion? Those that do will be at the forefront of all major actions. We’ll get the toughest assignments and can expect the heaviest casualties. Those that have issues with the synthetics or have had enough of the Vanguards must choose. If you want to join, stand next to Lieutenant Spartan. Those that want to quit, well, you can move over to Lieutenant Weathers. Both of our officers, I might add, are heading to the Yorkdale and will be working with the elite 1st Company, a unit of one hundred Jötnar and Vanguards.”
A few men started to move before Marcus raised his hand.
“Sir, I have one question.”
Spartan looked over at him, a gnawing feeling of doubt starting to spread from his stomach. What did he want and how far was he prepared to go? Major Daniels indicated for him to speak.
“Why is this happening, Sir? Is it because Lieutenant Spartan deserted his unit on Euryale? He did this along with Sergeant Morato, but the rest of the unit continued fighting until victory was declared, Sir.”
The marines in the hall exploded into chattering and shouting. Two of the marines from Teresa’s squad made their way towards Marcus. Major Daniels, from his vantage point in the hall, could sense the danger and was in no mood for the entire hall to erupt into violence.
“Stop!” he shouted.
The movement slowed in the hall before finally halting. A tussle had started around the Sergeant, but a number of men were holding the troublemakers apart. Marcus had taken a few steps back and was being protected by a small throng of marines from his platoon.
“I will not have insubordination or a breakdown of discipline in my unit! Lieutenant Spartan has not been charged with any crimes, and his actions on Euryale were nothing but commendable. You have all fought on the same side and against our terrible enemy, the Union and their allies. Petty disagreements about units and organisation are above all of you!”
He was visibly angry and the marines knew it. It was one thing to annoy or antagonise the lower ranks, but causing trouble with their Captain could lead to serious and permanent repercussions.
“The unit is being moved because we are all considered to be too much trouble. That goes for me, for Lieutenant Spartan and the rest of you. Each of you was chosen because you had something to offer this unit. On top of this, a Vanguard marine needs three times the space of a conventional marine plus more support crew. This is simply too resource intensive for the Santa Cruz. She’s a specialised ship with a unique battalion of the best commandos in the fleet. As a unit we are rough around the edges, yet we punch well over our weight. This isn’t just a description for you, it is also one that matches both Spartan and myself perfectly.”
He looked towards Spartan who stood patiently, waiting for him to finish his speech.
“The Jötnar have been languishing on the Yorkdale with minimal direction or support. If left, they may simply leave us or refuse to participate. We have a responsibility to help them do what they have offered to do. Forty-two have died so far in action, and I have yet to hear one single grumble about their situation. By merging the Vanguards with the Jötnar, we can build the ultimate fighting force that every warrior is going to want to join.”
The hall stayed silent, but a line had been crossed by many of the people p
resent.
“Now. Make your choice.”
* * *
Spartan watched through the small window as the shuttle circled the great hulk of CCS Yorkdale. From there he had the perfect opportunity to examine his new home. Though the ship was not technically a warship, it had already been improved with armour and weapons. With the recent upgrades, the ship was easily capable of taking on a vessel up to the size of a light cruiser. Compared to the conventional warships of the fleet it looked massive and could fit a battlecruiser and half a dozen cruisers inside its hull with space to spare. There were many similar ships that plied their wares through the colonies of the Confederacy, but this was the only one of its kind to ever be reconfigured for war.
“Look at that,” said Teresa as she pointed to an object off to the side.
Spartan looked carefully. At first it looked like a stack of girders and metal, but with closer examination he could see the cranes and arms. It was an orbital maintenance platform.
“It’s for the modifications. If you look on the bottom side, its carrying auxiliary fuel tanks and gun mounts for the Yorkdale. By the time they finish the first changes, she’ll be one tough vessel.”
He leaned back in his seat and looked back at Teresa. She could see on his face that he was still angry about the incident back on the Santa Cruz.
“How many are coming to the Yorkdale?”
Spartan shrugged.
“Less than I thought. Only two from Marcus’ squad, and another nine refused to come over from the other five squads. It’s not a good start.”
“Maybe. If they can’t be trusted with Gun and his people, then it might be for the best.”
“You’re probably right. Still, I am going to be setting up a recruitment campaign though the fleet for people to join us. Have you got the numbers on equipment yet?”
Teresa looked down at her datapad and lifted it up to her lap. She moved through the pages using her fingers until finding the correct page.
“Here it is. So far we have eighty-nine operational Vanguard suits plus ammunition and spares for double that number.”
“What about the technicians and fabrication equipment?”
“Not installed yet. We have seventy workers from Euryale who have volunteered to work on the ship. They are due to arrive later today along with more tooling and equipment. Kowalski is supervising a shipment of weapons and gear from Prometheus, and so should be here in a couple of days.”
“How long until we can have more weapons and armour ready to use?”
Teresa shook her head.
“No idea. We need to speak with the engineers and techs about that.”
“Oh, it looks like the prototype mules are being sent to us as well.”
“Interesting. Is it just me, or are we being sent all the oddballs and spare bits of junk?”
Teresa smiled and reached out, resting her hand on his arm.
“I’m sure Commander Anderson will have sent over something useful for us. He is very resourceful.”
“So I keep hearing!”
She looked about the inside of the small shuttle. It wasn’t one of the heavily armoured assault craft used for ground attack but instead a personnel transporter. There were eight seats and the internal bulkheads were fully exposed. It lacked comfort but was a cheap and easily modified utility craft. Sat in the other six seats were a group of crewmen on a shift transfer with the crew already on the Yorkdale.
“Spartan?”
He turned to look directly at her.
“I’ve been thinking about Prometheus and what it was like before we joined up. You never told me what happened with you and the pit fighting. You ready to talk about it?”
“There isn’t much to tell. I got into a bit of trouble and the pit fighting circuit was the only way I could get out of it. In the end it didn’t really matter, the Corps has wiped my debts. I just have to fight for another nine years, and I’m free.”
Teresa nodded, but none of this was new information to her.
“Why though? What happened to make you do it? You never told me what you used to do.”
“Let’s just say I went through a dark time and got involved with some shady people. Things went south fast, and I had to go on the run. I kept moving for a few years before my past caught up with me while passing through Prometheus. There was a big fight, I mean big. It should have meant the end of me, but my creditors saw a way of getting their money back by selling me as an indentured worker to one of the fighting guilds.”
“Okay, but still I don’t understand. I thought you still had debts that the Confederacy wiped?”
Spartan sighed.
“Being sold to the guild paid off my creditors, but it didn’t stop the guild charging me for food, training and housing. I had to win ten major fights to pay them off and be allowed to leave. That was my contract and the price of getting out of there.”
They sat quietly, both watching as the shuttle manoeuvred around the Yorkdale as they made their way to the landing bay.
“Did you like it?”
“The Arena?”
“Yes.”
Spartan paused before answering.
“Yeah, I did. It was the first time I felt I was good at something. My last fight was to choose the guild champion to be presented in the licensed arena circuit. If I’d made it, the money and fame would have been substantial.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Going pro would have set me up for life. Assuming I didn’t die of course!” he laughed half-heartedly.
The vessel shook slightly as it twisted to match the rotation of the large central section of the transport ship.
“Pro? You would have joined the pro circuit? Wouldn’t that have meant doing the large-scale melee on the major events? I saw one of them when I was on Prometheus a long time ago. There were about thirty fighters in the Arena, and over have of them were put in hospital.”
“Well, I didn’t say it was easy. The thing about the pro circuit is you get the big pay and lots of exposure. You fight the best people and travel through Proxima Centauri. If you do really well, you can even travel to Alpha Centauri and fight in the main Arena on Terra Nova.”
“I didn’t realise it was something you wanted to do so badly. Will you go back after your service in the Marine Corps?”
“I’ve not even thought about it. At the rate we’re going Teresa, we’ll be lucky to make it out of this war alive. Planning for afterwards is a luxury I don’t think we can afford for now. What about your family, have you spoken to them recently?”
“No. Don’t you remember? They are all on Carthago. We’ve not spoken for a long time now. When the war is over, I’ll see them again.”
“When. That is an interesting one. You think the war will be over soon?”
“Of course, we can’t keep fighting forever.”
“Why not? One major reversal could stop Operation Perdition it its tracks, and the war could run on for years, maybe even decades.”
“Well, we’d better get this unit knocked into shape then. If we do this properly, we should have a battalion that can smash through any enemy.”
“You’re right about that.”
* * *
Spartan was the first to step out of the shuttle and onto the first metal surface of the landing bay. He was not wearing his body armour but was dressed in his urban camouflage fatigues and carried his issue knife and pistol on his belt. Standard procedures had changed concerning weapons on ships after the attempted hijack of CCS Crusader. Only marine guard units were authorised to carry assault weapons when in space. As Spartan stepped off the ramp, the rest of the passengers followed him. Teresa was the closest and stepped directly behind him.
Unlike the main cargo section of the ship, this part was rotating along with the rest of the habitation zones. The end result was substantially more space on the ship for artificial gravity. Many doubted the wisdom of artificial gravity on these kinds of ships, but combat experience had shown the re
tained strength and dexterity helped keep combat units fit and effective. There was normally a delay after transportation so that troops could acclimatise to the addition of weight and work on muscle development.
The only real problem with this amount of rotation was the difficulty in landing vessels in the environment. Luckily, the shuttle crews were experienced and used to alignment with capital ships. The built in auto-align facilities on many of the smaller ships helped make the job easier.
Spartan stepped down the ramp to find a full platoon of marine technicians lined up and waiting. Each man was stood smartly to attention. Off to their right was a group of five Jötnar. Next to the marines they looked massive, but they were obviously doing their best to fit in and not look uneasy next to their companions. Each of the synthetic creatures stood roughly three metres tall and built like ogres. Their wide set shoulders and exaggerated muscles gave them an almost cartoonish look. Spartan spotted Gun in the middle of them and smiled at him He moved towards the group and stopped, looking in surprise at the change of clothing and armour they were wearing.
“What is this Commander?” he asked with one raised eyebrow.
Gun looked to the other four Jötnar before turning back to Spartan. They were wearing metal armour. It was crude and only covered part of their bodies. The metal shields the chest and shoulders, but the heads and lower body were unprotected. Gun wore the same but decorated in red patterns, almost like blood had been spilled on the metal. As Spartan examined the pattern, he noticed a series of marks along the one arm. The other four had similar markings.
“New design. We are Jötnar!” he growled. The others struck their chests with their arms in a laudable but imperfect imitation of an ancient salute. Spartan smiled at the display, but he could see a twinge of fear on the faces of a few of the new crew that had travelled with them to the ship.
“Yes, you are,” he said and moved up closely to Gun. He pushed out his arm to find it grabbed and shaken firmly by the Jötnar warrior. The strength of the monstrous creatures always amazed him. Gun was easily twice the size of Spartan and much heavier and stronger. He had fought Biomechs at this range before, and every time it had felt like he was taking on a monster.
Fall of Terra Nova Page 6