“Interesting. We didn’t do that on the Santa Maria when we made our way to Prime,” said Teresa.
“That doesn’t surprise me, the Maria is also used as a training ship. You will have spent most of the journey coasting while picking up new recruits and supplies. You signed up in Prometheus as well, right?” he asked.
Teresa nodded.
“Well, it is very dangerous to use the high speed transport option in an area like Prometheus. Hell, I know a few decades ago an army transport tried a direct run to the planet and was lost with all hands in the storms. I think a few thousand died in that incident.”
“Look, we’re nearly there,” said Bishop.
The marines watched the vessel, the computer handling the entire operation as the shuttlecraft approached the side of the ship. The process appeared painfully slow but the marines knew that both craft had been accelerating until this point and at incredibly high speeds. With a sickening feeling in their stomachs the primary engines of the shuttle cut off in synchronisation with the Tamarisk. At first the larger ship appeared to drift ahead but minute adjustments by the shuttle’s computer helped them maintain the speed.
“Crap, weightless again,” Bishop moaned.
With the two spacecraft now travelling at a constant speed the shuttlecraft moved sideways, the small manoeuvring jets helping to nudge the craft inside.
“Uh, are they going to let us in?” asked Kowalski.
As if on cue a large metal shutter raised to reveal a cramped hangar space. Teresa noticed two more craft already stowed inside. One looked like a civilian shuttle, similar to the one they were in but far older and undoubtedly much cheaper. Clamped next to the shuttle was what looked like a Marauder a larger version of the Thunderbolt fighter that could carry extra crew. She turned to Bishop.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“You bet your ass it is. I never thought I’d see one, the Marauder is pretty rare these days. Most have been scrapped or converted back to Thunderbolts. I guess they think we might need something with a pit of a punch.”
Their shuttle moved slowly inside the hangar space and alongside the other craft. No sooner were they past the shutters, they started to close again. The blackness of the hangar was lit by the interior lights of their shuttle alone. Teresa sat quietly, waiting for their automated docking to complete. Their craft rotated a full ninety degrees before approaching one of the landing clamps to the rear of the space. With a final clunk the shuttle shook and a series of green lights flashed around the airlock and various displays on the walls. Teresa made to move before Bishop’s hand held her shoulder.
“No, not yet, we are still coasting. Wait till we get the double green before getting up.”
Teresa looked at him, a little confused as to what was going on. Then a shudder shook through the shuttle and she could feel herself being pushed back into her seat. She felt heavier and heavier until finally they must have been back to normal gravity. A hiss echoed through the passenger area as the airlock opened to a small doorway leading into the hangar. Releasing her harness Teresa expected to float out, completely forgetting the entire point of what had just happened and instead found she was pinned in her seat. She looked over at the amused face of Williams.
“The acceleration, remember?” he laughed.
Teresa stood up and walked to the doorway, her legs aching from sitting for so long. As she passed through the airlock she reached the open space of the hangar and looked around inside the darkened area. Bishop was out next, quickly followed by the others as they yawned and stretched.
“Well, we’re here,” said Kowalski.
A noise came from the far wall, followed shortly by a metal hatch opening up. A dull yellow light poured in and hurt their eyes for a few seconds as they adjusted to the brightness. Through the light stepped two men, both in civilian clothes. The scrawny man at the front Teresa recognised as Commander Anderson. She straightened up and saluted, the other marines quickly followed.
“Welcome to the Tamarisk,” said the Commander. “Before we get started you need to get rid of that habit. As of from now you are a civilian crew on a civilian ship. Until our mission is completed there will be no saluting, mentioning of rank or following of naval protocol. Understood?”
“Sir!” came the unanimous reply.
Commander Anderson just stood there. He said nothing before turning to the stranger to his right. The man was dressed in civilian clothing and wore a light waistcoat that was marked and scruffy.
“This is Johnson, from Kerberos.”
“You’re the Special Agent Admiral Jarvis spoke of?” asked Teresa.
“Not today, just called me Johnson.”
Teresa nodded, the changed protocol on the ship finally starting to sink in.
“Follow me,” said the Commander as he turned and walked back through the doorway. Johnson followed immediately behind. Teresa looked back at the other four marines who smiled nervously, then turned and went through the doorway and into the ship.
* * *
Lieutenant Daniels was first off the assault shuttle. He turned and shook Spartan’s hand before stepping down to the hangar floor.
“Good work again, Sergeant, we’ll meet for a full debriefing in an hour,” he disappeared along with the scores of other people piling out of the other craft.
Spartan was next off and as his feet hit the cold metal he felt a pang of relief to be back aboard the old ship. Several of the craft had already arrived prior to them with the wounded and urgent passengers, which Spartan noted there were many. He stepped to one side and counted in the men from his platoon as they moved in slowly, there were only nineteen. Roughly half of the unit was dead or wounded. Thankfully he noted that the bruised, but implacable Marcus, strolled out and shook his hand.
“Spartan, thought I’d lost you on the way up,” he said happily.
Several marines were carried past on stretchers before Spartan spoke.
“I spoke to Lieutenant Daniels on the extraction. He said the Santa Cruz is joining the rest of the marine units at Kerberos for reinforcement and medical attention.”
“Kerberos? What about the fight on Prime? We can’t just leave the colony.”
“True, but garrison duty and engineering is the job of the ground pounders. Right now we are in no shape for continued combat operations. Have you seen the casualty reports? By all accounts our units should be pulled out of the line for six months or more.”
Tex and Travis, two of the marines that he had spent some time with on Prime, climbed out and joined the little group. Tex was starting to warm to Spartan, though Travis as usual was still quiet. The day before they had landed on Prime, Spartan had been training with the two of them. Being a new arrival to the commandos he hadn’t fitted in very well. It wasn’t helped by the fact that some thought he’d had a lucky break in the fighting on Kronus, seeing as they all had long and distinguished careers in the Marine Corps prior to selection for their elite unit.
“Spartan, that was some crazy ass shit going on down there!” laughed Tex.
Spartan looked at him and smiled. Even in all this blood and trouble he was glad to see the entire ship no longer viewed him as a lucky break. He had proven he had the skill and the drive to be worthy of the commandos. He suspected with the casualties they had sustained and the growing problems throughout the System that his skills would be needed very soon.
“When you’re done I want to see you in the mess, we have things to discuss!” he said before the two men left the hangar.
James O’Reilly was the last man out and Spartan recognised him from the action prior to the storm. As he walked past, Spartan tapped him on the shoulder. The marine looked startled and stared into his eyes before moving on, ignoring everyone.
“That’s not good.”
“Yeah, you can say that again, Marcus, I need to speak with Daniels, we’ve got a few marines here that need some attention. We got hit bloody hard down there, much harder than we should hav
e. I’d really like to know what the hell is going on. Why is there this revolt and who is behind it? No way are those shock troopers a small experiment, they had thousands of them,” said Spartan, his brow tightening.
“I know what you mean. Some of the guys back on the surface reckon it is some kind of a feud between some of the groups that first came out here. Personally I think that’s a crock of shit. Somebody has something to gain out of this, I bet the Zealots, the troopers and the rest of them are all somebody else’s pawns.”
The two left the space in the hangar and made for the airlock that led into the main walkways of the Santa Cruz. As they walked through the large airlock it automatically sealed behind them. It was immediately obvious that things were not looking good. There was a lot of blood on the floor and marine medics were running back and forth as they carried blood packs and supplies.
“Shit, this is bad!” said Marcus.
“Yeah, like I said, this isn’t some simple religious revolt. We’ve got a much bigger problem on our hands,” muttered Spartan.
“Well, no way are we going back into action like this. When can we expect to be reinforced?”
“Who knows? From what I’ve seen they keep sending us in. Maybe somebody will take a look at the figures and realise we aren’t immortal.”
“Speak for yourself,” laughed Marcus, “Come on, I don’t know about you but I need a drink.”
They walked on past the first airlocks and bulkhead doors that led to the sickbay and recreation area. Marcus started to talk before noticing he was on his own. Turning around he saw Spartan reading a message on his datapad.
“What is it?”
Spartan said nothing for a short while longer as he continued reading whatever it was that he was looking at. Marcus became more concerned when he noticed Spartan’s face tense up. He’d already seen that down on the scarred battlefield of New Carlos. Spartan looked up from the pad.
“It’s from Captain Mathews, he wants to see me about Teresa,” he said slowly.
“Teresa? I thought she was still recuperating from her injuries?”
“Yeah, so did I.” Spartan looked about, getting his bearings.
“Hey, where is he?”
“He wants to meet me in his quarters, Marcus, alone.”
The two stood for a moment before Spartan made to move. Marcus grabbed his arm before he could leave.
“Listen, I’ll be waiting in the rec room. You come and see me right away, understood?” he said firmly.
Spartan nodded, saying nothing before rushing off down the corridor.
* * *
General Rivers surveyed the tactical display of Prime in great detail. No matter how the battle was going he always seemed to be at the map, watching the minute detail of the action and contacting the field commanders at regular intervals. As he stood there he looked worried, as though he was waiting for something terrible to happen. He turned around to face the video-link with General Shears on the surface below.
“General Rivers, I understand your concerns. I can confirm that my local forces have now fully secured the colony. As we speak, we are assisting with rebuilding efforts on the main highways and transport links. New Carlos will be back in business in less than six months,” he said dismissively.
“I am well aware of the tactical situation. You have still not answered my questions. Why have you sent all marine forces away from Avagana? The commandos needed to come back of course, they are for specific operations but our other units and specifically the 12th Regiment, have been playing a critical part of defending the colony. Are you sure that Colonial and Confederate Army units are sufficiently equipped and positioned to defend Avagana against any possible attempts to attack it?”
“Of course, and I cannot fail to see the implication that your precious marines are more valuable and more important to the defence of Prime. We of course appreciate the efforts and sacrifices of all Confederate Military forces, including the Navy, Marine Corps and the Army. With the peace talks on going, and no hostile forces in the colony, I see no reason why the marines need to stay here. We still have support from the Army, and I am happy to continue assisting with their use and deployment on Prime. We are better equipped to conduct long term operations here than you are, if we need help we’ll be in touch,” he then signed off.
The entire room was silent. Those who heard the conversation were keeping their heads down, the rest carried on as though none of them had seen anything happening. Nothing could hide the fact that General Rivers was furious. He slammed his fist down onto the table in a rage that grabbed the attention of every crewmember in the CiC.
“That arrogant son of a bitch!” he roared.
Almost simultaneously with his outburst the door to the CiC opened and in walked Admiral Jarvis and her ever-watchful bodyguard.
“General, I see you and our friends on the surface have come to an understanding?” she said with a wicked smile.
The General looked as though he had something to say and then did his best to curb his voice. It was one thing to lose his temper when shouting at the table, quite another to lose his temper in front of the Admiral.
“Something like that. It would appear General Shears is convinced he can maintain and defend Avagana unassisted by the Marine Corps. I am concerned that he is trying to politicise the situation rather than ensuring the region is cleared and kept cleared.”
“I understand exactly, General. Even so, I think it might not be a bad thing for us to regroup away from, what I’m sure you will agree, is a meat grinder of an operation. Confederate Forces are spread thin throughout Proxima and with no sign of reinforcements, I am inclined to try and maintain a flexible reserve in case of any more emergencies. After all, only the marines and the Fleet can respond quickly and strongly in a short period of time. Let General Shears have his moment in the sun, for now we have the big picture to concentrate on and there are a few things that will have to change.”
“Change?” asked the General.
“With us having no contact with Alpha Centauri our chain of command stops in this room. All military forces in this sector need to be assembled and more importantly, an understanding must be reached between the civilian governments of the colonies and our forces. We must work together. It is not a case of us versus them. If we are not careful we could end up doing the job of internal policing, and if that happens we will soon become the enemy rather than the friend of our citizens.”
General Rivers considered her comments for a few seconds. He understood how the military could be transformed from friend to enemy in a matter of days. He also had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that they were damned either way. They could use a heavier hand to protect citizens or they could step back now that a ceasefire had been declared and hope that hostilities wouldn’t recommence.
“I agree with your assessment, Admiral, though I have my reservations about the intentions of the politicians on both Prime and Kerberos. These uprising have substantial technological and financial support. This cannot be coming from grassroots terrorist support mechanisms. I suspect those behind the troubles are much higher up than that.”
He paused as he considered what he had just said, some of which had only just occurred to him. If there was someone, or at least a group behind the troubles, what would they have to gain? Why would they have pulled strings for a ceasefire? He could only assume they needed time to rebuild before attempting further uprisings and coups. He looked back to Admiral Jarvis.
“What are you proposing?”
“Well, as you know the marines have been sent to Kerberos for a period of rebuilding and re-equipping. They are also being sent there so that we can make a statement as the peace talks are ongoing.”
“Yes, nothing implies power more than a battlegroup parked in orbit,” he grinned.
“Quite. There is something else and I know you won’t like it,” she said seriously, “I could do with you being the official representative at the peace talks on Kerbe
ros.”
General Rivers looked at her impassively. His protests were easy to gauge, he was a combat veteran and military leader, not a politician. He fidgeted before replying.
“I’m sure you can work out where my opinions on this matter lie?”
“Indeed. Nonetheless I need a senior commander who is respected by both the military and civilians. Your defence of religious buildings seven years ago will undoubtedly be remembered by the more militant on Kerberos, and perhaps help in the negotiations. I have already checked the details of the talks and there will be representatives from all the colonies and outposts in Proxima, as well as the leaders of the major industries in the sector plus a dozen more from the religious factions and paramilitary groups.”
“Admiral, what exactly are you hoping I will be able to achieve at such a gathering?”
“Well, as for political organisation, they can decide to do whatever they want. Our duty is to protect the Confederacy and to ensure that the legitimacy of the Confederate Armed Forces is adhered to throughout the colonies.”
“What if they attempt concessions to the religious factions, primarily those on Prime?” asked the General.
“That is nothing to do with us. It isn’t the role of the Armed Forces to interfere in the affairs of the colonies, only to act to protect our citizens and the structure of the Confederacy. The Santa Cruz and her escorts are already setting course for Kerberos, I suggest you transfer there. I understand proceedings are due to take place in the next twenty-four hours at Yama. You will have full command of the forces around Kerberos, including the communication and intelligence facilities as well as the marines.”
Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy Page 31