“I...don’t understand, Admiral. You are staying here and you want me to assume control of our forces at Kerberos? In these circumstances wouldn’t it be better for us to stick together?”
Admiral Jarvis turned her head in disagreement.
“Under normal circumstances I would completely agree with you. However we have multiple problems that cannot be dealt with by moving our forces to Kerberos. Right now I need our troops given full medical aid and reinforcement at Kerberos. Until this is done the entire battlegroup will be a spent force. As an added bonus, by placing the marine transports and escorts in orbit, it will provide a handy reminder to the talks on the surface that the Confederate Fleet is keeping a watchful eye on proceedings.”
“I understand that, Admiral, but you are not planning on joining the Fleet in orbit at Kerberos?” he asked in a confused tone.
Admiral Jarvis adjusted the tactical display to show the ship dispositions in the Proxima System. She pointed to the large gas giant Khimaira that was surrounded by a number of stations and outposts.
“ I will be taking the rest of the Fleet to assemble at the navigation point off Khimaira. As you know we have a naval refuelling and supply outpost there. I am assembling all capital ships and their escorts to assemble. Smaller vessels will maintain their current operations, especially those involved in anti-piracy and installation defence. I have heard rumours of dissent in some of the crews of the squadrons based at Orthrus and Agora. By bringing the Fleet together I can isolate those that are suspect. It is my intention to root out any threats and quickly. My single biggest concern is that small groups might try and split off when they are needed, even worse they might even turn on us.”
The Admiral turned from the display and looked directly at the General, her face impassive, but resolute.
“It is imperative that by the time the talks on Kerberos are over we have the entire Fleet secure, loyal and ready to assist in whatever decision is made. One thing I can promise you is this, the crisis is not over, not by a long shot.”
* * *
Spartan stood outside Captain Mathews’ door and paused before knocking. His heart was pounding as he imagined all kinds of terrible scenarios that could involve Teresa, terrorists, combat or even medical problems. Last time he’d seen her was when she was still in the sickbay after having had additional surgery to her shoulder. Spartan was familiar with how operations could go wrong and the idea of infections or other complications weighed heavily on his mind. Unable to wait any longer he lifted his hand to knock but the door swung open to reveal the Captain.
“Sergeant, come in,” he said as he beckoned inside his quarters.
Spartan stepped inside but couldn’t contain himself.
“Is she alright?”
The Captain shut the door and turned to face him. “She’s fine. Please sit, we need to talk.”
The room was a modest affair but much better than the quarters the enlisted men had to use. There were three chairs to one side and a bunk running along the far wall. The Captain indicated a chair to Spartan before sitting down himself. Spartan sat down, at least partially placated that nothing terrible had happened.
“I didn’t realise that you and Private Morato were so close,” he said as he watched Spartan.
“We’ve become good friends since well before Kronus, Sir. Last I heard she was still recovering from her wounds. Where is she?”
“Okay, that is the question isn’t it? First of all, her recovery is going well. She isn’t fully healed but is certainly well enough to return to non-combat based duties. I’m afraid that she isn’t on board the ship though.”
“Where is she?” demanded Spartan, now starting to feel a little agitated.
“As I said, she is okay. She has joined a reconnaissance patrol and will be back in about a week. It is a routine op but I’m sure you appreciate that for reasons of OPSEC I cannot go any further. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not privy to the information either. I know you want you know more but that’s all I can offer.”
“Why her? I don’t understand, Sir. Surely the battalion has trained reconnaissance units for that kind of work?”
“That is all I know. Who knows, maybe she has certain skills? Maybe it was an emergency and there were no other units on board. In the end it doesn’t matter, she’s gone for a short time and will be back upon completion of her mission.”
Spartan said nothing, he was evidently lost in thought and the Captain had neither the time nor the inclination to turn the discussion into something resembling a social conversation. He decided to revert to something Spartan always seemed more comfortable with.
“Tell me about the CES suits and New Carlos? I have a report due from Lieutenant Daniels, but I’d like to hear from you.”
Spartan looked about the room as he gathered his thoughts.
“Well, initially they performed well. The modifications fitted by the technicians proofed them against most small arms fire. Once in combat the weapons were adequate for most of the tasks we used them for. There were some problems with the suits, mainly to do with speed and size,” he started.
“Tell me about their battlefield effectiveness? How significant were they, let’s say against an equivalent number of marines in PDS suits?”
“There is no comparison, Sir. When we were hit, the marine line almost broke several times. The CES units were able to hold the line against overwhelming numbers. Their increased firepower and ability to take damage meant they could hold where three times their number would have been needed. At close range they are vastly superior. The enhanced power in close combat allows one man to take on several shock troopers.”
“Okay, that is promising. What about the problems, then?”
“The single biggest weaknesses were durability and size. With them being modifications of our basic gear, we still suffered from gaps in armour and several exposed critical systems. The size makes them easier to spot and hit with heavy weapons. Several took direct missile strikes, though I saw at least one lose a limb and keep going. There is also the longevity issue. At the end of just over a day’s worth of fighting most of the suits had broken down or been made unusable due to damage, fatigue or failure.”
“So how would you sum them up for use by the battalion?”
“Well, Sir, I think Lieutenant Daniels would be the best person to answer that question.”
Captain Mathews smiled inwardly, noticing the deference to Spartan’s new commanding officer and also that a level of respect must now exist between them. It was a given fact in the battalion that units meshed together best when flung together in difficult times.
“Indulge me, I’d like to hear your opinions, from a sergeant’s point of view.”
“Okay. In my opinion the CES suits offer the equivalent of light armour or tanks for the marines. They give us a piece of heavy protection that can assist in the assault of objectives or to provide mobile defensive positions, as at New Carlos. They excel in close combat however, that is where their strength, power and firepower can be used more effectively. They are too vulnerable and resource intensive for normal operations. If we all used them we would have half the battalion out of action in a few days, Sir.”
Captain Mathews nodded as he listened to Spartan. He was very interested in the development of the weapon system and Spartan’s comments would be of help for his plans.
“Based on these experiences, I am intending on pushing command for the option for the requisition of more of the suits from Fleet stores for conversion to a number of roles. I would appreciate your assistance in their development, if you’re interested?”
“Definitely, I think with additional modifications we can produce a piece of equipment that will make the battalion even more powerful and effective than before.”
“Excellent. Now, there is another more pressing matter and again one in which I could really use your help,” he said with a hint of intrigue to his voice.
“Let me guess, you’ve foun
d something and you need a team to investigate?” asked Spartan with a smile.
“Not quite, actually, it concerns Kerberos.”
“Kerberos, the industrial world? What is going on there, Sir?”
“That is a very good question. As you know there are peace talks and negotiations over some kind of Colonial settlement in this sector. The negotiations range on all topics from religious freedoms to changes to the electoral process, it even goes up to the autonomy of some colonies from what I hear.”
“What does any of that have to do with us?”
The Captain looked a little uncomfortable, perhaps surprised by the speed in which Spartan had identified the crux of the problem.
“For the most part you are correct, it has nothing to do with the military. That is providing nothing changes with respect to the sovereignty of colonies or the basic structure of the Confederacy. We are sending a representative from the military to stand by any decision or to ask any questions that are relevant to the military command.”
Spartan looked at him, waiting expectantly for some kind of a punch line, then it dawned on him.
“You want me to be the representative?” he asked incredulously.
“You?” he laughed.
Spartan looked a little taken aback.
“You have many sterling qualities, Sergeant, but diplomacy probably isn’t one of them. No, what I need is your experience, your instincts and if required, your fighting skills. I want you to be our representative’s personal guard on the planet.”
“Me? Who would I be guarding, Sir?”
“General Rivers, head of the Marine Corps forces in this sector.”
“I don’t understand, Sir. Yes, it is a great honour, but why me? We have many more experienced marines on board, I can vouch for many of them...” he started before the Captain raised his hand.
“There are already enough guns there from multiple groups, each with different agendas. I have been tasked this duty by the Admiral herself and she wants me to deal with it outside of the normal channels. I need somebody that hasn’t been in the Corps too long and the Zealots, or whoever else is involved, might already have their claws into. There is a chance the situation could get dicey down there and if that happens, well, we need someone used to handling things a little differently to the way we do. You are unpredictable and your close quarter combat skills are reportedly the best in the battalion.”
Spartan said nothing, he felt as though yet another bomb had exploded nearby. Since arriving at the Titan Naval Station he seemed to be thrown from one operation to the next without a chance for a break, rest or to even try and order the events in his mind. At this rate he thought his head might actually explode!
“Will I have a team?”
“There will be a Marine Guard Unit on the shuttle and the Confederate Guard’s Company will as always provide personal protection for all official Council members. When on the planet the Kerberos military will provide an honour guard for the General. An additional combat unit from the Santa Cruz would be considered a major snub to their forces. It is best if we keep our numbers to the minimum.”
“I could do with an extra pair of eyes on an assignment like this,” Spartan replied, his voice implying it was more a request than a suggestion.
“I see. Who did you have in mind?”
“Well, Marcus Keller, one of the privates from the Santa Maria came back with the rest of our unit. He has seen some rough action and I know I can trust him.”
“I’ll check him out prior to the mission, if he is okay you can have him. One last thing, you will be travelling with a third person, Lieutenant Carter. He’s a member of the Personal Protection Unit on the Santa Cruz, but knows nothing about our little conversation. He is trustworthy as far as any marine officer is and the operation will be conducted under his command, anything else could look suspicious. Just remember, the only person you need to look after is the General, and the only person you can trust is yourself. Now, Carter is already with the General and briefing him on the operation.”
“Understood, Sir.” Spartan paused, considering the enormity of the responsibility he would be undertaking, “I should probably go and see the General then.”
Captain Mathews turned his head in disagreement.
“No, let Carter have a few hours to get settled in. It’s important he feels its his operation. General Rivers is aware of your role and if push comes to shove, he will defer to you, not the Lieutenant.” There was just a hint of a question in the statement.
“I think I understand, Sir. How long before we reach Kerberos?”
“From our current position out here we will be there in about twenty hours. Enough time to get some rack time. That sounds like a good idea, remember, trust nobody!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ten years prior to the uprising on Proxima the first of the colonisation fleets were sent. These three fleets were massive undertakings, each one taking years to assemble and thousands of tonnes of materials to build. It was always the intention of the Confederacy to continue expansion and the foundation of new colonies on Epsilon Eridani, Gliese 876 and Procyon were part of the long term strategy to help spread mankind amongst the stars.
The New Colonies
Spartan lay in his bunk, his body aching and his mind crying out for a few hours rest. Try as he might, sleep avoided him. The bizarre nature of his latest mission still worried him, the twists and turns of the short briefing he had with Captain Mathews had created more questions than answers for him. On the one hand he had been chosen, well, apparently chosen, to help protect the General. On the other being officially seconded to a lieutenant he’d never heard of, but wasn’t to trust. The talks were already underway between the Council members present in the Proxima System and various military organisations and departments were providing security. He had read and re-read the organisational charts and was still confused as to the jurisdiction of each section. As he understood it, each colony in the Confederacy returned between one and three councillors depending on their size. These councillors represented the colonies at all gatherings of the Council and for the voting on all decisions that affected the colonies. In this sector the Assembly Building on Kerberos was one of the potential locations that could be used to assemble the Proxima councillors for debate and discussion. A similar assembly could be convened in Alpha Centauri, though decision in one sector had to be ratified in the other for them to be valid. With no contact with the old world colonies, it appeared Proxima was looking to resolve these problems alone.
He thought about the old worlds in Alpha Centauri. He’d never been to them, they were a long way away and unless a citizen had the funds or was in the military, you were unlikely to ever visit them. What did intrigue him was that the Alpha Centauri colonies were over a hundred years older than anything in this sector. Their planets were better developed and the military forces more substantial and capable. As expected the politics and society of the old worlds was more conservative and far less tolerant of some of the more left wing organisations and religions that had tried to flex their muscles over the years. The formation of the Confederacy some ninety-eight years ago was supposed to have removed the heavy-handed rule of the old worlds. It was to be replaced with a more open, tolerant system of mutually independent colonies held together by an agreement of law, trade and defence. At least, that was what he had learned at school. His experience in the last few years had shown him that many people in the new colonies had a strong distrust of the Confederacy or in fact anybody outside of their own colony. Quite how this affected his mission he wasn’t sure. In the end he decided to concentrate on this one job, protection of the General. He would leave the rest to anybody that could be interested.
As he tried to forget about what was to come, he then found he was unable to shake off his experiences of the combat on Prime. In the past he’d been involved in many fights, some of them for money, others to just stay alive, but nothing could have prepared him for the violence h
e had just witnessed. Every time he closed his eyes the sounds and smells of the battle flooded back to him. The room was dark, lit only by the dull red lights that marked the bulkhead and hatches out of the room. Opposite him the bulk of Marcus, the massive German marine he’d met months ago, was fast asleep. There were two other marines in the room but Spartan couldn’t remember their names. The events had been so extreme he was starting to lose track of people, even time. He sat up and reached out to the water canteen near the bunk. It was lukewarm but still quenched his thirst.
He had spoken in private with Marcus about the mission but he didn’t seem particularly inspired by the news. In fact he’d just listened in agreement before heading to his bunk for sleep. Spartan could only imagine either the man was exhausted or that he didn’t care where he was sent. Of all the people he knew on the ship, Marcus was the most dependable in a fight. He would have chosen Tex next if he’d been allowed more in his team, but Mathews had insisted that the bodyguard unit had to be no more than three people. In some ways Spartan felt he had been given a major honour, but if anything went wrong on Kerberos the life of the most senior marine officer in the entire sector would be in his hands.
He looked at the clock on the wall. He had another four hours before he needed to be ready to meet the General and his team to go over the final details of the operation. He considered getting up and ready before a stabbing pain in his temple told him he needed to drink more water and rest a little. One more sip and he dropped back to the bed, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
* * *
The Assembly Building was the official debating chamber for the Kerberos Colony and also one of the locations used by the Proxima Council when critical decisions had to be made. Since the founding of the Confederacy it had been used in this context only three times, even then it was just to clarify and then vote on decisions already made by the Council in Alpha Centauri based on Terra Nova. It was large and comprised of three rectangular buildings situated around a circular rotunda that lifted up above the structure. It was made of pale stone and the inside was adorned with sculptures and artworks of the birth of the colony over two hundred years ago and more recently, the Great War and the creation of the Confederacy that had followed it. The Centre Chamber, the largest occupied part of the building, was made up of three layers of seating in a wide circle, creating enough space for up to a hundred representatives. The design was intended to cope with all the colonial members from the many planets, moons and station colonies in the Proxima Star System. Normally it would be made up of the local members of the Kerberos Assembly but today it was packed with most of the sector officials or their representatives. The fighting on Prime was a terrible event. Most of the members were keen to voice their concerns and do what they could to facilitate an agreement to stop the fighting and unrest that had already torn Prime apart. There were also the unresolved issues of the secular colonies that had plagued many of the colonies for years, in one or two cases going back to the actual founding of the Confederacy after the Great War.
Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy Page 32