Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Sir, nothing, just static. It’s like the signal is being jammed with digital noise. Every single channel is the same, from the main feed down to the wideband data streams. I’ve tried clearance filters and noise reduction and the system can’t find anything.”

  “So whatever is going on at Terra Nova, Admiral, we can assume they will not be sending us any help?”

  “Quite possibly. Either way, General, with no communications, intelligence or supplies we’re pretty much on our own.”

  Admiral Jarvis examined her tactical display as she checked on the status of the systems and ships scattered through the Proxima System. She turned to her communications and tactical officers.

  “I want a full update on the readiness of all Confed units in the entire System. I need to know the status of every single ship, transports, supplies, stations and personnel. Make sure you include Army and Auxiliary vessels, include everything!”

  General Rivers turned and spoke to one of the armed guards before turning back to the Admiral.

  “I’ll get my field commanders to gather reports on all our units and outposts.”

  Admiral Jarvis looked at the display zooming out to view the whole System. Coloured dots indicated friendly vessels, lines and discs showed the various shipping lanes and orbits. A flashing circle showed where the CCS Wasp was located around the planet of Prime. Although many of the vessels were centred on Prime, many more were scattered about the System. She started to count them but gave up once she had reached fifty ships of destroyer class or larger.

  Up until now most of the ships in action were being used in ad-hoc formations to conduct limited operations. If this campaign were to go on any longer she would need to establish a number of new fleets and squadrons based on the assets available in the System.

  “We’re on our own here and we need to start planning for a long campaign,” she said quietly to herself as she worked out the optimum placement for the vessels.

  * * *

  Johnson had been sat at his desk for the last two hours and was having a hard time trying to extract the data from the recovered datapad. Normally he would have handed in the evidence but with the way things were looking right now in Yama, the capital of the colony, he would rather keep it to himself. On one of the video screens to his right he had three feeds running. Two were general aggregate lists of news and reports, the third was a live signal direct from the Parliament Building in the centre of the city. There were always areas of competition between the colonies, but from the rhetoric on the floor of the house he was noticing a trend between the conservative religious parties and those of the ruling liberal coalition. There had already been a failed vote by the opposition to send peacekeepers to Prime to halt the Confed forces in their counteroffensive to clear the colony of Avagana.

  Johnson turned back to the datapad and the data he had already extracted onto his computer. At first glance the data cartridges appeared to be blank, but examination under his forensic tools had reveal multiple hidden partitions behind the actual wiped data. It was a clever ruse and would stand up to most examinations. Moving the data to his computer had required him to disable several of his own firewalls but it was a risk worth taking. As he moved some of the data to a secure section of his computer system he heard someone approaching. With a deft flick he moved the data and slid over a virtual folder that contained mugshots over the top. He turned to see Agent Petoskey stood over his shoulder.

  “You seen the news?” he asked.

  Johnson double-checked his screen before turning to the man.

  “Yeah, I’ve got the live feeds running here,” he replied as he pointed to the displays.

  “Right, you see what the Confeds have been doing? Just got a report that they are attacking civilians with strike planes. Bastards!”

  Johnson could feel the question inside the statement. Petoskey was one of the many nationalistic Kerberons who seemed to hate anything off-world. The only thing worse than the Primes to them was the long arm of the Confederate armed forces getting involved in the business of the Kerberos Intelligence Unit. He had no illusions that as a member of Confed Naval Intelligence, seconded to the local unit, his life would be in serious jeopardy if Petoskey suspected he was anything other than a Kerberon loyalist.

  “Yeah, a bloody business. Bet you’re glad you’re not on the exchange programme with Prime, right?” he laughed.

  “You’re right there!” replied Petoskey as he turned back and walked along the open plan office.

  Johnson glanced again before returning to his computer screen. Luckily the data was hidden but a small icon bobbed up and down along the corner of the screen. He gave a quick glance around the office before tapping it to expand a message from one of his old contacts in the Defence Department. He didn’t waste time with extended niceties, he’d sent his contact a message almost an hour ago saying he needed to call in a favour. This was it. With a twist of his right hand he selected positions of the encoded data and dropped it into an encrypted container and sent it to his contact. A single message popped up telling him to wait. Johnson didn’t like this part. The longer it took, the longer there was for somebody to notice what he was up to. Voices came from further inside so he increased the volume on his screens and turned to watch the news from Prime. Along the scrolling ticker it said the video link was from a fishing vessel moored half a kilometre from the shoreline of Avagana. The camera zoomed in to show lines of people in their hundreds waiting to be taken away by small boats. Two strike aircraft blasted past and a cry ran up through the passengers as they ducked to avoid the backwash and possible fire. Nothing happened and the craft simply rushed out along the horizon before disappearing from view.

  Beep. A low tone indicated another message had arrived, it was his contact. According to the message it said the data was an agenda for a meeting due to take place on one of the stations along the Rim. Only one person was named.

  “Typhon?” said Johnson below his breath, he had heard of this man, though from memory there was little known outside of his almost mythical status.

  Johnson brought up a secure terminal screen and checked his security database for all information relating to the man known as Typhon. The first page to be found was related to the most recent mention of the man at a rally on Prime. Supporters of the Church of Echidna had placed a plaque at a bombsite in honour of the man bit it had been removed almost immediately. The name appeared to have been mentioned at several other terrorist sites on the planet where it had been used as a chant.

  He scrolled through the information till he reached a file from an informant in one of the state owned mines on Avagana. It said a meeting had been attended by known members of the Crimson Brothers, a left wing radical organisation with links to trade unions throughout the seven colonies of Prime. They had originally been one of the smaller unions but after the riots they had split off and become radicalised. The meeting had been convened to plan an attack on the rail system in the name of Typhon and his holy mission.

  “Holy mission?” asked Johnson before realising how loudly he had spoken. He looked around, no one was paying any attention.

  He refined his search parameters but could find nothing related to the mission, other than some snippets about the darkness beyond the Rim and something else about preparing for the mission. A series of death threats had been received five months ago to the Trade Ministry from a group purporting to be the Yama Defence League. He pulled up another page that described the group. They were a far-right street protest movement which opposed the spread of the Church of Echidna, Church law and Zealot extremism on Prime and Kerberos.

  Johnson leaned back in his chair. It was odd, there seemed to be a good number of groups on Kerberos, some with grievances against the state with others more interested in interfering with each other’s business. Prime had become the physical battleground of the troubles but it looked like Kerberos was becoming much the same only in a more clandestine and sinister way.

  A me
ssage popped up, indicating that the rest of the data had been decrypted. He read it carefully. Most of it made little sense as it contained several quotes from scriptures but one but was of great interest. There was mention of a meeting between the factions, and even more importantly, it stated it would be held by Typhon and his children.

  “Holy crap!” exclaimed Johnson as he nearly fell from his chair.

  If what he was reading was correct, he had discovered a datapad with information relating to a meeting off-world between the leaders of multiple factions and the quasi-spiritual leader of the revolt, known as Typhon. He grabbed his datapad and hit the options to request a secure feed to his contact on the CCS Crusader. Before his pad would connect to the communication system he had to work through the fractal encryption subroutine, an add-on that was fitted only to the equipment used by members of Naval Intelligence. With the correct code entered it connected to the Naval Intelligence subsystem that was piggybacked onto the primary communication channel from the security headquarters.

  “If I’m right this meeting could be between all the major players in the crisis,” he said quietly as he waited for the system to connect.

  Looking at his screen he dragged the icons of each of the factions, groups and people until he had a small group surrounding Typhon in the middle of the screen. He looked at it thinking how many different people and links there were. This group could hold the key to the war and maybe even a peace in the System. They also contained people at every level of government and society throughout Proxima. He turned to his left checking the status of his datapad, it was taking longer than expected. He just hoped there weren’t any issues with the monitoring of his signal or data traffic. It was still interrogating the servers and checking for a secure channel. As he waited he re-looked at the groups mentioned in the message. It implied many more would be there but their names were in code.

  “Who are Typhon’s children?” he asked as his datapad connected to the CCS Crusader.

  With a flicker the screen changed on the pad as it transformed to a writing surface ready for him to communicate through. Normally he would use visual and audio communication, but with something this sensitive he could not afford to risk himself or the person he was speaking with directly.

  * * *

  “Sir, message from the surface from an unknown source, it says it is an urgent priority communication,” said Lieutenant Nilsson.

  “It’s okay, let it through,” Commander Anderson ordered.

  He had been waiting for a signal for some time now and he was beginning to think Admiral Jarvis had been a little too optimistic to expect important information so soon. He checked his datapad and selected the correct codes to establish a secure text link with the intelligence contact on the surface. The icons jumped around and then lined up as the cipher was confirmed. The code for the Admiral’s agent was valid and the first piece of information to arrive stunned him. It stated that Typhon, the almost mythical religious figure of many of the religions and cults through the System, would be attending a meeting of major organisations in the next forty-eight hours.

  As he read the message it occurred to him that it could be no coincidence that he had picked up a signal to a site out on the Rim that referred to The One. He remembered reading a report some months ago that linked the term along with two of the most extreme organisations on Kerberos. If this intelligence was correct, this could be the breakthrough they had been waiting for. Maybe the meeting and the signals to the Rim were connected.

  “I’ll take this in my sea cabin, XO, you have the bridge,” he said as he marched out of the room.

  As he left he walked the short distance to his sea cabin. It was located close to the bridge so that he could be called from sleep or attending to administration instantly. He opened the door and quickly went inside, closing it firmly to ensure he was alone. The cabin was sparsely equipped, containing just a bunk, desk, toilet facilities and a computer terminal on the wall. It was an improvement over the accommodation used by most of the crew, but only marginally so. The Captain of the ship also had access to far more civilised quarters at the in-port cabin further aft. When he had the time this area was more lavishly furnished, with a separate bedroom and combination sitting room and office.

  He brushed his hand across the computer system and selected the options that would initiate a connection with the Fleet at Prime. As the system went through its connection protocols he poured himself a glass of water. The purification system on the battlecruiser had sustained heavy damage, so like everyone else he had to make do. In the corner of his quarters was a plastic container with four litres of lukewarm water. It wasn’t great but it was better than going thirsty. Like most of the vessels in the Fleet, this one was capable of displaying the exterior as though the wall was a window. He could see the dark side of the planet below as well as the glint of light from the orbital shipyards just a few hundred kilometres away. In less than an hour the ship would be docked and the injured crew taken away for treatment. The repair work on the ship could take months, maybe even years.

  A tone from the computer display signalled the connection was complete. He moved in front of the screen where the image of Admiral Jarvis awaited him.

  “Admiral, I have transmitted a copy of the intelligence received from your contact in Yama. The data indicates a high level meeting between multiple enemy assets in the next two days. I feel there may be a link to the previously intercepted signal with regards to something taking place out on the Rim.”

  There was a pause as the signal travelled the massive distance. As he waited he checked the intelligence from the previous message. The indicators were all there, a number of high-level delegates, mentions of both the One and Typhon, plus an undisclosed location.

  “Commander Anderson, your concerns confirm the analysis conducted by my own team here. There are strong links between Typhon and several pseudonyms that we believe refer to him. This meeting is of great interest to me. We have never been able to infiltrate any of the insurgency cells far enough to obtain top-level intelligence on the command structure of the enemy. Please pass on my orders to our contact at Yama and monitor the situation. I will take care of the operation in the Rim personally. Good work, Commander.” The display went black.

  The Commander took another sip of water before pouring the rest of it back into the container. There was no sense in wasting such a valuable commodity when the resources of the vessel were so limited. The voice of the XO sounded from his cabin’s intercom.

  “Commander Anderson, I have the pilot tug requesting permission to lead us into the shipyard.”

  “I’ll be on the bridge shortly, give them permission.”

  “Sir,” came the reply.

  Anderson straightened his uniform and opened the door to leave his cabin when his video communication unit started up with an urgent communication. He shut the door and moved back inside to check the message. The video lit up to show the face of the Admiral again.

  “Commander Anderson, I have just checked your data and it correlates directly with the intelligence from our other units. I think you know how significant this is to current operations. I need you to finish up your work on the Crusader immediately and arrange to get our contact out of Yama. You need to take the fastest shuttlecraft you have and rendezvous with this ship at the attached coordinates. I have already started to assemble a team to join you. I will forward a full briefing pack along with the latest intelligence for you within the hour.”

  The Commander said nothing as he digested what she had just said. He already had masses of work to do with the Crusader and this sounded like a mission unsuited to his skills.

  “I, I don’t understand Admiral. The Crusader needs my attention and I fail to see how my knowledge will be of use in a small intelligence operation.”

  There was a delay as before and while he waited he stood patiently waiting for the details. The images of the Admiral continued to move but he knew he was looking at a feed
that was transmitted minutes ago.

  “Commander, this mission is of the highest priority. The location is out on the Rim and you are the most experienced officer in this sector for that region of space. This isn’t a request, I need you in the team!”

  He understood immediately what she was saying. The intelligence had pointed to the Rim and with the rest of the data he was obviously going to be continuing the investigation in the murky waters of the Rim. It was some time since he had been there and he was well aware of how dangerous it could be to anybody that was inexperienced.

  “Understood, Admiral, I will make preparations to leave immediately.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Contrary to most people’s expectations, the use of close quarter weapons was never anticipated until the uprising was well underway. In the decades since the Great War it had become clear that armour and firepower were the highest priority for the valuable marines and soldiers of the Confederacy. In the confines of spacecraft and the underground caverns around the Bone Mill on Prime, the use of high quality edge and thrusting weapons turned the battle into something that hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years. A war, that relied on martial prowess and skill as much as ranged weapons and training.

  Edged weapons in the Emergency

  Teresa lay in her bunk watching the ships through the virtual window. There were very few marines left on the ship, most had been shipped off and only two companies had stayed back as a reserve. They had already been called out four times and on the last mission she had assisted in what could have been a very ugly one. She had finished writing her section for the after action report, something she was not normally expected to do. On this particular occasion there had been a problem with a diplomatic envoy. It had occurred when the team boarded the civilian liner to find a colonial security unit blocking their access to the rest of the ship. Now technically there was nothing wrong with this as a diplomatic vessel was normally granted full privileges by all Confederation vessels. Due to the heightened security in the crisis however, the Fleet under Admiral Jarvis, had full jurisdiction over any vessels in Confederation Space. Luckily they had been able to force their way inside, but two marines had been slightly injured and it was the violence on a non-military vessel that required her input on the operation.