Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Welcome to our little training arena. In front of you is one of our pets. He is the smallest and youngest. Today’s test is to survive until the bell hits ten chimes. There are no rules, just survive until the time runs out!”

  The creature roared and rushed ahead directly towards Spartan. He stood still and waited, his weapon in position and ready for the fight.

  “Let’s do this!” Spartan shouted and to their surprise he ran forward to meet it head on.

  “Spartan!” Misaki screamed as she watched him rush directly into the path of the monster. It was like a tale from Ancient history with a mythical hero tackling a Minotaur or other ferocious beast.

  As Spartan reached striking distance it swung its right arm and brought the mace on a collision course with Spartan’s head. The bell struck one and at the same time the mace whistled towards his face. With incredible speed and timing he ducked down at the last minute and leaned out to strike the passing creature in the back of the knee. It might have been bigger and stronger than any of them there but its knees were still vulnerable to an attack. As his metal bar struck the thing lots its balance and slid onto its back, flailing about in anger. Spartan stood up and turned around to look directly into its eyes. He stepped forward but it was already up off the ground and snarling. A few of the prisoners rushed from the side to try and take advantage of the moment to strike. The bell struck again.

  “No! Stay back!” shouted Spartan. They either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

  The first man stabbed hard with a small knife only to find it got stuck in the creature’s thick hide. It swung its left arm and struck the man in the temple with its mace. The crunch of bone made a terrible sound and the man was dead before his lifeless corpse hit the ground. The others waved their weapons and made ineffectual strikes but with the death of their comrade they lost the will to close the distance.

  Spartan pushed forward and swung his bar in an arc just a short distance from its face. The attack missed but did force a response. Instinctively the creature tried to parry the strike but hit nothing but air. Its inexperience showed as it twisted around and exposed its right flank. Spartan wasted no time in slamming the heavy metal hard into its ribs and breaking at least two of them. One of the women jumped forward and managed to hit the creature on the head but hit the armoured skullcap causing nothing but a loud sound. The bell continued to ring though none of them were paying attention, just concentrating on staying alive. It swung at the woman but Misaki managed to jump in striking the weapon aside with her own mace and then drag the woman to safety.

  “You!” shouted Spartan as he pointed his weapon at the creature. It roared at him though there were no intelligible words, just animalistic noises.

  It swung the maces, clearing the rest of the prisoners away until a small, loose line of them stood with Spartan on the right of the group. As it moved forward one step at a time they move in around Spartan, finally understanding that their best chance lay with him. They prepared for another attack when the bell rang out for the tenth and final time. In synchronisation with the sound a series of lights came on around the arena.

  The creature stopped its attack and lowered its weapons, whether it was a signal from the lights and sounds or it was simply used to the procedure was unclear. All they did know was that for now the fight was over. The whistle from the speakers came back, followed by the man’s voice. As he spoke the beast turned away and returned to the large doorway from where it had entered the arena. As it approached the door slid open revealing four heavily armed guards with their weapons pointed at the prisoners.

  “Congratulations. Some of you have passed your first test,” came the voice from the speakers.

  The entry door opened with a dull grinding sound and two of the prisoners who were still lurking nearby jumped through and into the arms of the waiting guards who pushed them back inside.

  “Follow the guards backs to your quarters, you will face a new and much tougher test tomorrow.”

  The sound cut off and the guards beckoned for them to follow as several men in lab coats approached the two bodies and started to lift them onto stretchers.

  “What the hell is this place?” Misaki asked.

  Spartan looked at the guards and then back to her.

  “I don’t know, one thing I do know,” he said before leaning in closer to her, “I’m not waiting around to find out.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  It is one of the ironies of the new colonies in Alpha Centauri that some of the oldest nationalities from Earth would come to find new homes in Space at the expense of the old world on Earth. Whereas in the past Italians, Germans and British citizens had flocked to the New World of the Americas a new wave of colonists travelled to such places as Carthago and Terra Nova to establish new communities that worked hard to stay true to their old routes. British communities on Terra Nova still fly the flag on traditional public holidays and the National Flags are still worn by some on their military uniforms, as is the right of all citizens of the Confederacy. Italian-Novans constituted some of the earliest Confederate Army units.

  The Old World meets the Newer World

  “Spartan, is that your real name?” Misaki asked.

  The two were sat on the wooden benches running along the side of their quarters, along with the survivors of the first confrontation with the Biomechs. The quarters for the red group was cramped but seemed at least a few metres bigger than what the rest had to manage with.

  “Yeah, it’s my name.”

  “That’s it? You must have another name?”

  Spartan said nothing, either he was too tired to speak or not prepared to say anymore. Misaki waited for a little longer before speaking again. They had all had a thorough medical examination before being given their uninspiring overalls. The colour was a kind of faded orange and at some time they must have belonged to a company as the logos had all been ripped off, leaving small patches and holes in various places.

  “What do you think is going on here?”

  This question seemed to get Spartan’s interest, even making him sit up and look at her briefly before speaking.

  “A few things are pretty clear to me. First, this place is illegal. The weapons, armour and layout would have serious problems with Confederate control. Second, slave labour being used in pit fights is dodgy, very dodgy.”

  “How so?”

  “Trust me, it is. The last bit though is those Biomechs. They are related to the Zealots and their masters in the Church of Echidna. Why are they here and why were some being transported to this place on our ship?”

  “The Church of Echidna, aren’t they the people who started the secession in the first place? I thought they were offering a peaceful, safer alternative to that of corporate control through the Confederacy?”

  “You think so, Misaki? I’ve seen their peaceful ways, now you’ve seen them too!” he replied with a slightly raised tone that he immediately regretted.

  From the far wall a pair of armed guards approached. They were again dressed in the dark body armour he’d seen when they arrived, each carried a shotgun and side arm. They were much more heavily equipped than any prison guards he had heard of. They moved up to the metal bars of their sleeping area and looked inside.

  “What’s going on in there?”

  The guard was met with total silence.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Remember the rules, break them and you pay the price.”

  The second guard started to laugh, evidently enjoying the reminder of the power and control he had over the prisoners. He lingered a little too close though and Spartan was able to get a good look at his equipment and clothing. They waited a few more seconds before walking off to harass another group of prisoners.

  “What were you looking for?”

  Spartan lifted up his hand, waiting to make sure the guards were well out of sight and hearing before looking back at her. He indicated her to move closer. She crept forward, doing her best to make as
little sound as possible and stopped close to his face.

  “When we were being transported here I noticed the guards wore a snake symbol on their uniforms. Those guards had the same patch on their uniforms. I think it might be a department of one of the churches. Don’t snakes have something to do with one of the religions?”

  “Well, I do know that Echidna was half woman half snake and supposedly responsible for creating all monsters in the ancient world. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

  Spartan scratched his chin as he considered the information.

  “If these guards are part of a militant department or corporation they could easily be linked to the Church. They’ve been dealing behind the scenes for a long time I’ve been told and I would bet good money they supply the insurgents with money, weapons and intel.”

  “That makes sense, Spartan, the insurgents do have a lot in common with the Echidna missionaries. The next question though is what the hell are they doing here on Prometheus and even more important, why are we here? I’ve heard that there used to be all kinds of state funded research, especially biological and chemical science on this planet. Maybe the Biomechs are being brought here to be experimented on. They could be trying to improve or train them to be better fighters.”

  “Maybe. I’ve seen them in action though and they can fight perfectly well, they certainly don’t need any more training to be effective. There’s also the issue of all of us here. So yes, what the hell are we doing here?”

  Misaki considered this for a moment.

  “Good point. Prisoners are either being held here for political reasons or as a resource. From the way they treat us I’d say we’re a resource.”

  “I agree.”

  Spartan heard something and lowered his head to avoid attracting attention. Of the small group remaining from the battle in the arena all were asleep or resting, each waiting for whatever hardship would be meted out next. One man lay on the floor, he had been groaning for the last hour from the heavy impacts he had sustained during the fight with the Biomech. Misaki was convinced it was broken ribs but neither the guards nor the other prisoners had much in the way of medical training. One of the guards re-appeared but this time he moved on past the bars and ignored them, he appeared content to just let them see him. As he moved off Misaki moved her face closer to Spartan’s ear and whispered quietly.

  “You said you’ve been on Prometheus before. How long ago was that?”

  She leaned back to give him space but Spartan simply shrugged and ignored the question. Misaki raised an eyebrow in frustration but he refused to back down so she tried a different tack.

  “Is that where you joined the Marine Corps? What happened then, did they ship you off right away?”

  Spartan shuffled uncomfortably on the hard wooden surface.

  “No, they posted me on a rookie transport and training programme through the sector. They told me it was a long trip from Prometheus to Prime, they say it’s because of the storms, I don’t think so though. I know ships have done it in a few months.”

  “So why did they take so long then?”

  “I think it’s more likely they were taking it slow to get green units like mine trained up for the meat grinder at the Bone Mill. I’ve heard since that the recruiting ships normally took newbies directly to Prime for training in a few months, they must have slowed down to get us trained before we hit the planet. If that’s true they already knew we had people that couldn’t be trusted on the surface.”

  “Sounds sensible to me, no point landing rookies directly into a warzone. Did you realise what was happening during your training?”

  “No, we were all way, way too busy. I think we picked up extra recruits and equipment at stations on the way but they never told us where we were or where we were going. After a week’s worth of training you don’t really care which piece of black space you’re travelling through, believe me!”

  His mind drifted off to Teresa and their time on the Santa Maria. It was weird but those weeks of physical and mental endurance were some of the highlights of the last year for him. After years of moving from place to place he had bizarrely found a home amongst the rough but unpredictable world of the Marine Corps.

  “How about you Misaki? What happened and why are you here?”

  “Good question. I was on a colonial tour with my dance company when we were raided.”

  “Raided? Why?”

  “There were some protests on Kerberos that our routines were, well let’s say a little risqué!” she said with a sly grin.

  “Strip dancing?”

  “No...nothing like that. Our group is more like the old burlesque troupes you can sometimes see on Terra Nova.”

  “Never been to Nova, it’s a long, expensive trip to the old worlds.” He looked down at the floor in thought. “Wait, you said you were raided? By the police?”

  “Well, we thought it was police at first which is weird because we were all licensed up to run shows on any colony we were invited to. The men wore no insignia but they were in normal riot police clothing. They said we had breached the peace and took us all away. Next thing I knew I was on the ship, in chains and drowsy.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the police to me and these people definitely have links to the Zealots and their sympathisers.”

  They sat in silence for a few more minutes, each looking out through the bars and watching the lines of prisoners moving off for their allotted tasks and work projects. It seemed that they were able to avoid this extra work but only at the price of risking their lives by participating in the various tests the Governor had set. As Spartan sat there thinking he noticed Misaki watching him. Her face was tight and the stress obvious. He wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything particularly reassuring. She had been dragged from her work in almost the same manner as he was, all this just for performing some kind of dance. He thought about the dance she had talked about before realising he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Burlesque?”

  Misaki looked at him intently, a little surprised at the question. “Yes?”

  “I’ve never heard of it. What is it? Some kind of ethnic dance?”

  “Not really. It is part dance and part act with an emphasis on style and sexiness. It can include striptease, garish costumes, bawdy humour, that kind of thing.”

  “”Oh...I see.” Though his response suggested the exact opposite.

  As they sat in an uncomfortable silence a pair of the guards approached. Spartan looked at Misaki and then at the floor, giving her a visual cue to look down and avoid eye contact with their tormentors. The footsteps stopped, they were waiting outside the door. With a grinding sound the door slid open. Spartan turned to see the men pointing their weapons directly at his chest.

  “Spartan?” the first asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Come with us, the Governor wants a word,” the second ordered as he gestured with his shotgun for him to stand.

  Spartan looked around the room, most of the prisoners were watching though none said a word for fear of reprisal from the guards. Spartan moved but before he could stand up the first guard took a step back.

  “Take it slow...that’s it, nice and easy.” The guard appeared far more nervous than Spartan would have expected.

  As he stood up a third, unseen man approached and attached a metal rod to Spartan’s manacles. As before they could hold him off at a distance so he couldn’t grab or kick at them. As soon as he was past the frame of the door it was quickly shut to stop anybody else following them. The first guard moved in front of Spartan. He came close but not too close.

  “Play your cards right and this could be your ticket out...soldier boy.” He slammed his shotgun butt into Spartan’s stomach.

  Spartan dropped back and spluttered as the impact drove hard into his torso. It wasn’t enough to drop him though and he quickly straightened up, his height and mass easily dwarfing the guard.

  “Okay, tough guy, c
ome.”

  With a push Spartan found himself moving behind the guard and followed by at least two more of them. Though he was desperate to escape there was nothing he could do when locked up and surrounded like this. As they moved away he looked around at the people coming back from their other duties. Most were filthy. They looked as if they had done hard physical work, possibly mining or construction. Based on the filth he thought the former was more likely. The guards continued nudging Spartan towards a cylindrical metal doorway at the side of the open space. It had no obvious markings or features and could easily have been some form of blast shield. The guard in front spoke into his helmet-mounted intercom unit. The words were too quiet for Spartan to make out but they must have been to give clearance to open the door. With a mechanical whirr the door slid around to the right to expose a small cylindrical room. The guards behind pushed him inside and followed closely. Once the four were all inside the door shut and low level white lighting illuminating the room. The floor shook and Spartan felt slightly lighter as the room went down at high speed.

  “Where are we going?”

  The guards ignored him, simply standing still and waiting. Somewhere in the walls a speaker system sent a series of codes and beeps but it meant nothing to him. He felt his legs becoming heavier again and then with a gentle bump they stopped. The door slid open to reveal a short corridor that led to a closed door. With a click the metal bar detached from his manacles and the guards stepped back inside the room. Concern for the unknown sent a shiver down his spine as he stepped out into the featureless corridor.

  “Head to the door,” ordered the guard and then the door slid shut leaving Spartan alone in the corridor.

  It was weird, very weird. He had gone from being taken and guarded by heavily armed men, to now being totally alone with no sign of the enemy. He felt even more a prisoner than when he was manacled, at least then he knew where he was and had a certain expectation of what to expect. The door behind was of massively thick metal and sealed. The walls were smooth and hard and the only object that broke up the shape was the door at the end of the hallway. As he stood there he wondered if there was anything he could do other than approach the door. He touched the door behind him. It felt cool, much cooler than anything else he had been near since his arrival. The surface was ultra smooth, almost polished in appearance. Pushing against it was no different to pushing against a stone wall, it refused to move even a millimetre. His gut told him to do something, anything other than what he had been told to do. It was pointless though, he had two choices, either wait or move ahead.