Teresa approached and stopped in front of Gun. He cocked his head slightly to one side as though he was sizing her up.
“What?” she asked feigning surprise.
“Spartan is correct,” he said not giving anything away with his expression.
“Commander Gun, one day I will figure you out. One day.”
Gun shrugged but looked pleased with her confusion. He looked over to Spartan.
“So, you are here to join. Are you ready?”
Spartan looked confused. He looked back at the shuttle, thinking perhaps he was talking to somebody else. The door was already shut and the pilot was running through his checks prior to departure. He looked back at Gun to see one of his Captains stepping forward. Spartan looked at him and then to Gun.
“What is this?”
“He is Captain Khan, he demands you join his unit.”
“What? He understands I am an officer in this unit, right?”
“Yes. All officers must prove worth.”
“You’re kidding? We don’t have anything to prove to each other.”
“No, we don’t. Khan fought on Skylla. He killed three Biomechs with blades.”
Spartan nodded in surprise at the news.
“Killing a Biomech is no easy business. Killing three without firearms is a major feat. Is this what got him the promotion and leadership of a company of Jötnar?”
Gun nodded but said no more.
“So I have to prove myself to him before I can join the unit?”
Gun nodded again.
“It is the rule. To lead you must fight leader.”
Spartan looked back at Teresa who looked even more confused that he did.
“You outrank them all, apart from Gun and this Khan. Just refuse,” she suggested.
Khan growled, evidently unimpressed and even a little angry at the suggestion Spartan would refuse to fight him. He was almost identical to Gun, perhaps a couple of centimetres shorter. He was scarred and on his left arm was a crude piece of metal where somebody had performed very basic first aid. A metal splint had been fused through the flesh and directly to his bones. It wasn’t pretty, and on a human the risk of infection or rejection would have been likely. The Jötnar, however, were made of more resilient stuff. Spartan inhaled and then faced the angry Jötnar.
“Of course I’ll fight him. I’ll fight any Jötnar warrior that thinks he is worthy of my time,” he said, trying to sound relaxed and unconcerned at the size and stature of the creature. Gun smiled at him, both recognising the honour of Spartan but also that his Captain was easily the stronger of the two.
“My only question is what do you want to fight with?”
Khan turned to Gun and spoke quietly. Gun answered with just one word. Two of the other warriors stepped forward, each holding out a metal bar to the fighters. It was a rod of about two metres in length and weighted about two kilograms.
“What the hell is this?” demanded Spartan.
“Training rod,” answered Gun. “Ready?”
Spartan handed the rod to Teresa who leaned in to speak with him.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said as quietly as she could manage.
Spartan pulled off his jacket and shirt until he was naked from the waist up. Years of tough living, followed by a long stint with the pit fighters and then the marines, had honed his body into a vicious fighting machine. He stretched his limbs, quickly feeling a flicker of pain in his still healing leg.
“Come on then, let’s do this!” he growled. The Jötnar grinned and took up position in front of him. Gun called over, but the grunts and noise were too fast for Spartan to make out. Khan dropped his rod to the floor and pulled at his armour. With a few heavy tugs the metal plates fell to the floor until he was also stripped to the waist. He bent down, picked up the rod and roared in anger. Spartan shook his head.
“Spartan, you idiot. What the hell are you doing!” he uttered to himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
Over the generations, there were many experiments with different calibres of ammunition. Combat statistics from every war in the last five hundred years had shown infantry combat took place at short to medium distances. More importantly, the side with greater firepower usually prevailed. In a world where the average marine could expect to be outnumbered, it was never a surprise each would carry the most powerful and adaptable weapon in the Confederate arsenal, the L48 rifle system. Available as a battle rifle, carbine and sniper rifle, it could even use a small calibre modification kit with a box magazine for suppressing fire and assault operations.
Equipment of the Confederate Marine Corps
The brig was one of the smaller parts of the ship and rarely contained anybody of note. In the last six months, less than two-dozen people had been locked away. In fact, for a short time the locked space had been used to store additional ammunition for the marine boarding parties. As Operation Perdition continued its inexorable progress towards clearing Proxima, the number of turncoats and traitors being found was increasing. Three days before a group of three traitors from the Santa Maria had attempted to sabotage the engines of the marine transport. After a short firefight with the marine guards, they had been apprehended and shipped to the Crusader. For now they were in the interrogations rooms leaving just two more people in the small and thoroughly depressing rooms.
In one corner were two crewmen, and were both mortified that the Admiral of the fleet was present. It wasn’t just that she was in charge of the Navy, but that she was the supreme commander in the entire Proxima Sector. In the past, the Army, Navy and Marines had been Earth based with each branch of the military controlled by a separate person. So the Chief of the Army would have supreme authority of his troops, but not of the Navy or Marines. A committee or defence ministry usually controlled these heads. In this new world, however, things were very different. The main military forces in the Confederacy were the Navy and the Marine Corps, both of whom were under the command of Fleet Admiral Jarvis. The Army was planet bound and used as a backup to the faster and more flexible marine. This meant that the Admiral was the supreme military commander in the whole of Proxima Centauri. Only the President was placed higher, and he was away, probably on Terra Nova and impossible to reach.
The nervous looking naval officers had committed nothing more than the usual naval crimes of being drunk and disorderly. They watched as she moved past them and along the corridor. They may have caused trouble, but that was not the reason for having a senior commander down below in the brig. As she continued along, they spotted her approaching the solitary confinement wing, an area reserved for the most dangerous or treacherous in the military. She stopped and looked through the triple-plated transparent plastic that covered the metal bars. Inside sat the traitorous brother of Tigris, the betrayer of the Confederate units on Prometheus. One of the heavily armed marine guards motioned for the Admiral to approach.
“Sir, the prisoner has refused food or counsel.”
The Admiral watched the man through the bars of the cell. He looked like any other Navy officer. She had seen dozens, probably hundreds, of Navy officers in her career, and by all accounts this man had a clean record. A quick glance at his file revealed a high quality officer with an almost perfect service record and excellent credentials. It was this that made her so confused and angry at the same time. How could a decorated, and experienced, officer turn on their own friends and comrades in times of war? It was a question that she applied to many serving crew and marines in this struggle. So many had already made the ultimate sacrifice, and those that casually threw away those bonds of friendship and loyalty was one of the problems that kept her up late at night.
“Captain Leander, you know who I am?” she asked through the bars. The man looked at her, for a moment he stirred but then thought the better of it. He had been stripped of his uniform and wore prisoner overalls, something the Admiral had not seen for some time. There were marks on his hands and face, and she almost smiled for a second as she imagined
the treatment he must have received from his comrades upon finding out his secrets. She quickly regretted it though. She was better than that. His face was taut, as though an electrical current was pulling at his muscles as he watched her. The expression betrayed bitterness, either towards her or his situation. She thought it must be the latter as the two of them had no issues prior to the one over his recent actions. There was nothing in his file that indicated otherwise. She moved closer to the bars and indicated for him to approach. He glared but refused to move.
“I understand your brother was involved in an incident at an illegal camp and facility on Prometheus. He attempted to betray a Confederate General and many serving personnel to improve his own position. He died for his acts of sedition.”
Captain Leander still said nothing although she was convinced there was just a hint of satisfaction, perhaps pride in what his brother had attempted. That was something she would not tolerate. As far as Admiral Jarvis was concerned, Tigris was a coward and a traitor to his own side.
“Still, his violence actually helped the Confederacy. Just one wrong decision and he could have been a decorated hero, instead of just another Zealot sympathiser. You should know he died a pointless death, cut down by a loyalist Biomech. If there is any part of you left that loves the Confederacy, you should be proud that some of his actions were responsible for the safety and escape of thousands of prisoners. Without him, the General and hundreds of officers would have perished.”
For a moment he almost spoke, his mouth opened, but with great effort he managed to stop. It was clear to Admiral Jarvis that he would not have to be pushed much harder to get information from him.
“Thanks to Tigris, we now have thousands of loyal Biomechs who want nothing more than the chance to gain their revenge upon those who created them. In some ways, I wish I could thank your brother.”
The young officer looked at her carefully. Deep down the Admiral knew she had crossed a line, but it looked like it may have worked as the young officer opened his mouth to say something.
“My brother fought for Echidna. He died a hero.”
He stopped, and perhaps realising he had just spoken when there had been no reason to say a word. Admiral Jarvis did her best to look dispassionate.
“Really? That is not what the reports from the people he saved had to say. It is a tragedy he changed his allegiance when it counted. You do understand the penalty for treason in the Confederate Navy? Your brother saved us the time, but you on the other hand….”
Captain Leander glared at her. He started to clench his fists and then tried to hide them when he noticed her watching his movement. The man was finding it hard to control himself, yet he desperately wanted to lash out.
“Admiral, you don’t know what you’ve started. You think you’re winning? Do you really believe a handful of Biomechs you think are loyal will change anything? The Confederacy is weak, and it always was. It is time for the errors of the past to be rectified. Echidna and her children will rise, and Proxima will burn.”
Admiral Jarvis shook her head before turning to the marine guards stationed a short distance away. His words confused her. The language he’d used reminded her of the historic speeches made during the Great War. It was well known back then that some of the fundamentalists from Carthago wanted to see Terra Nova burn. Still, that was a bit of a leap from an off the cuff comment.
“Very well. As expected, the prisoner is refusing to co-operate. He will undergo interrogation by our intelligence personnel, so please secure him for transport to the interrogation rooms.”
She then turned to face the Captain.
“Your refusal to assist in our investigation has been noted in your record. Know now that our people are excellent at extracting information. When they have finished, we will speak again on what they have uncovered.”
She turned from the cell and walked away, accompanied by her guard unit. When she reached the corridor outside another party of four that included Sergeant Bishop met her. He was one of the marines Commander Anderson had sent from Prometheus. The group stood to attention and she responded appropriately.
“Sergeant, you have something for me?”
Bishop nodded but said no more.
“Good, walk with me.”
They moved off along the corridor, and the small group of marine guards walked behind them. Although they stayed close, they tried to be as discreet as possible. There had been multiple attempts to overrun civilian and military vessels, and all it took was a dedicated team to penetrate the engineering rooms or CiC. The kidnap of a senior officer could be just as useful to the enemy. As they walked, the Admiral thought back to the file on Captain Leander. He was obviously trying to hide details of the battle on the perimeter of the Prometheus waypoint. He had secrets, perhaps about people or ships, but they were secrets nonetheless. The threat of the children of Echidna concerned her slightly. It may have just been rhetoric, but it could be more. Did he mean they were creating something new, perhaps even worse than the Biomechs? Or were the Biomechs the children of Echidna? She shook her head and looked at Bishop.
“Tell me about Prometheus, Sergeant. How is work progressing there?”
He took a short breath before speaking and appeared slightly nervous. It wasn’t that unusual. The Admiral often had that effect on junior officers and NCOs.
“The place has been transformed, Sir. Commander Anderson has brought large numbers of contractors to the compound and turned it into a research site and factory. Probably the best and most advanced in the whole of Proxima.”
“Yes, I have seen the reports, very impressive. Three completed vessels already, and two are in service escorting the fleet. At this rate, we will be able to replace escort losses in three to four months. If only we could replace our marine casualties, this war would be over in weeks. What about the Biomechs? Have you come across any issues? Any indications they might not be what we think they are?”
Bishop looked at her as he walked, slightly confused at the terminology.
“You mean the Jötnar?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the last of the cylinders have been used and all of them are now free. Most have been sent to the Yorkdale, but the Commander has retained a number on the base.”
“Interesting. What for exactly?” she asked.
“Security. Commander Gun left us a handful of his captains behind, and they have been working with Commander Anderson to beef up the security around the place. With most of the marines now gone, we have to use what we have. It is a valuable target for mercenaries, pirates and Union raiders.”
“Of course. What is your assessment of the Jötnar?”
“They are perfect, Sir, tough, strong, loyal and completely dependable. There have been several security situations on Prometheus, and every time they have proven their worth. I would happily go into combat with a platoon of them on my side. Hell, I doubt there isn’t an objective they couldn’t take, Sir.”
He quickly realised he had dropped into informal speak and tried to retrace his steps before she could say anything else.
“They are practicing with firearms and unit tactics under the supervision of our marines and are getting better everyday.”
Admiral Jarvis looked surprised.
“Really? I’ve not heard of any situations on Prometheus. What exactly has been happening?”
“Well, here’s an example. Last week, there was a raid on one of the research labs by an armed gang from the space station. They landed in a stolen military shuttle and killed two guards in a violent attack. We thought it was a Union attack, but in the end it was nothing more than computer theft. They were removing the computer equipment when three of the Jötnar found them.”
“What happened?”
“They were given a warning which they broke. Five minutes later all of the gang were in the brig. A few had light injuries, but no deaths, and the equipment was returned.”
“Fascinating. So they are learning discipline an
d control. I’m sure our political friends will be pleased to hear that.”
They approached her private quarters. One of the guards opened the door and the two entered. Before either of them could move further, the door clunked behind them. It was made of thick, durable metal and capable of withstanding multiple projectile impacts or even a full loss of pressure. The Admiral beckoned for Sergeant Bishop to sit down in front of her small oak desk. As he lowered himself, she moved to the side of the room and poured two small glasses of port. She returned and placed them on the table. Bishop looked a little uncomfortable being entertained by the leader of all Confed military forces.
“Sergeant. I understand you have important information for me from Commander Anderson. He has told me about your work together, and that you are a trusted go-between. How is he?” she asked before taking a sip from the glass.
“He is very busy, Sir. The number of vessels visiting the base each day means we have hundreds of people coming and going, so security is very tight. He checks the logs of each himself. It isn’t an easy assignment.”
Admiral Jarvis nodded to herself.
“I can quite imagine. Still, of all the senior officers I know, he is the most trustworthy and studious in his role of commander. He has already told me about your work together prior to Prometheus. In fact, the Commander has sent me nothing but praise for the work of you, Kowalski and Sergeant Morato. It seems that since leaving the Crusader, you have all be gallivanting around Proxima having all sorts of adventures.”
Bishop felt nervous and also a little apprehensive at what was to follow. For a moment, he thought there might be some kind of reprimand in order.
“I must therefore assume that the information you have brought to me personally is of the utmost importance. Am I correct?”
Fall of Terra Nova Page 7