Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Why not, Claus? They’ve managed to slip thousands of people off colonies and ships while our forces are busy fighting insurgents throughout the sector,” suggested Spartan.

  “Yeah, convenient that, ain’t it?” said a suspicious Marcus.

  The familiar buzz of the cell’s door being opened drew their attention back to the newly arrived guards. It was impossible to tell if they were the ones from earlier, apart from slight variations in their sizes they all looked the same. They all wore the same clothing and equipment.

  “It is time, come with us.” The first guard pointed his rifle at the prisoners.

  One by one they marched out until their column moved in the same direction as before. This time their number was larger, bolstered by the new prisoners. As they were leaving two stayed in the cell, one a man in his late forties and a woman in her early twenties who lay down sobbing. The woman had already survived the first encounter with the Biomechs, but from her reaction she wasn’t stable enough to go through the same situation again. One of the guards moved in and pointed his weapon at them.

  “Get out, now!”

  The two ignored him and stayed still.

  “One warning. Either you get out and join them or you suffer punishment!”

  The man turned to the guard and took a step towards him. “I don’t care! What’s the point, we go we die, we stay, we live a bit longer, then die!”

  “Not anymore. New rules from the Governor, anybody refusing a direct order is in violation of compound rules and will be transported to the surface, immediately!”

  The man started to become agitated, either from the frustration of the situation or because he was trying to get himself to the stage where he was confident enough to attack. The guard must have sensed the danger as he gave a hand signal to one of the other guards who moved up, shotgun at the ready.

  “What’s it gonna be? Your choice.”

  The man looked back to the woman who was still sobbing. “You coming or staying?”

  The woman sniffed a few times and then stood up. She had the look of someone who had given up thinking and decided to do something. The man looked at her for a moment before looking back to the guards.

  “Okay, we’re coming,” he said and started to walk slowly forwards.

  One of the guards kept his weapon trained on the man, the other two stepped back to watch the rest of the group. It was a simple mistake but the price would be deadly. The man had moved no more than three steps when he lunged at the guard. Taken completely by surprise the guard was able to loose off a single gunshot that missed by a wide margin before the man was on him. As the two crashed to the ground the woman screamed and ran towards the fallen pair. Spartan spotted the commotion and tried to move to help but Marcus firmly held him.

  “Get back, now!” shouted closest standing guard.

  He was already aiming his weapon at the two on the ground but was unable to obtain a clear shot. At the same time the woman rushed forward. It was more a reaction than any kind of aimed shot but the guard easily blasted her with his shotgun. The thermal charge burned through her shoulder and part of her chest, killing her in seconds as she dropped down. On the ground the two men struggled and by some miracle the prisoner was able to draw the man’s side arm. With a single shocking blast the round entered the guard’s temple at point blank range and sent blood and gore across the floor.

  Spartan tried to struggle free but Marcus pointed into the distance at armed men rushing towards them. He was right but it didn’t make Spartan feel any better. He wanted to help and he wanted to get off this rock. Six or seven of the group pushed away and grabbed at the nearest guards. One was shot immediately before the closest were overpowered and more weapons taken.

  “Take cover!” shouted Marcus as bullets started tearing across the open space between the reinforcements and the struggle outside the cell.

  Spartan, Marcus, Claus and Rivers all sheltered down behind the large metal housing near the sliding door. It wasn’t a minute too soon either as two rounds struck the thick iron and ricocheted off into the distance. A series of short blasts indicated the rebels had killed the guards on the ground and were now engaged in a deadly firefight. Through the section other prisoners screamed and ran for cover, desperately trying to avoid the crossfire that had already struck two of their number.

  “What are we gonna do, man?” shouted Marcus over the sound of the gunfire.

  Two more of the rebels were struck down to leave just five who fired from kneeling or standing positions. Double their number of guards moved towards them at a quick walk, their body armour deflecting the odd inaccurate round as they advanced.

  ”They’re getting canned out there. This could be our chance,” said Spartan as he pushed away from Marcus.

  “Spartan, use your head!” said General Rivers with a stern tone.

  “We can do this!” He then rushed out into the open towards where two of the felled fighters lay. One was unarmed but the other carried one of the guard’s rifles. It wasn’t a model Spartan recognised but it was simple enough. He twisted the safety and aimed at the advancing guards. Remembering his training he exhaled and aimed slightly low. The first round slammed the butt hard into his shoulder and he was surprised at the kick. More importantly though the round had struck the nearest guard in the chest and he was already staggering back. Thinking he might have only a few rounds before they returned their fire, he aimed at the man to the left of the group and then spray a long burst of at least forty rounds before the gun was empty. Two of them managed to reach just a short distance away before the overwhelming fire forced them back. He managed to hit all of the nearest guards, killing three and sending the rest back into cover.

  “Jesus Christ, man, you got a death wish or something?” shouted Claus in a mixture of surprise and admiration. “Throw me a piece!”

  Spartan kept low and sprinted to the bodies of two of the fallen guards. Both were well armoured though Spartan was a little surprised at the variety of equipment being used. He would have expected more uniformity, not that it mattered right now. Rummaging around he managed to find two shotguns and a pair of pistols. He thrust one into his belt and slid the rest of the weapons across the door to Marcus, Claus and Rivers before pulling himself back into cover. Resting the empty rifle on the floor he pulled out the pistol and slid the magazine out, checking it before slipping around the corner with the pistol drawn and pointing in the direction of the enemy.

  Throughout the prison area any of the prisoners who weren’t locked away were either cowering behind any cover they could find or running away from the sounds of the battle. The seven remaining guards stayed in their cover though their shooting was sporadic and inaccurate.

  “If we’re going to do this we’ll do it properly, understood?” shouted General Rivers.

  Marcus nodded, quickly followed by Claus.

  “Spread out, keep low and close the distance. We don’t have the time or the ammo for a drawn out fight.”

  Marcus ducked down and then rushed out into the open and past a group of people hiding behind upturned metal boxes and crates. He dropped down and squeezed off three rounds at the guards before waving for the rest to follow. Spartan spotted two of the guards trying to move back to find better cover and managed to hit one in the leg, forcing him down. His comrade left him bleeding, running back as fast as he could.

  “Push them back!” shouted Spartan as he stood from his cover and advanced on the larger group of guards. As they lifted up from cover to shoot he fired single, carefully aimed shots. He wasn’t aiming to kill, more aiming to keep them pinned down so they could get closer. He had already covered half the distance before Claus got his hands on another weapon. It was one of the dropped rifles and without hesitating he started to put heavy fire down on the guards. His shooting was fast and precise as another guard quickly went down. As he fell a pair of hands lifted in the air in a plea to surrender, this was quickly followed by the other six. Spartan kept his weap
on up high, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice and then rushed forwards to the guards. As soon as he reached them he disarmed the first one, taking his rifle, placing his own pistol back in his belt. Marcus moved towards him and did the same. Claus stayed where he was, rifle raised and looking out for signs of the inevitable response by the enemy.

  “Don’t kill us!” whimpered the nearest guard.

  “Kill you, what do you think we are, animals?” asked an angry Marcus.

  “Wait, something isn’t right.” General Rivers moved up, checking the guards. He stopped in front one of them looking at him carefully.

  “How long have you been a guard in this place?”

  “About an hour.”

  “What?” Marcus shouted.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” said the General. “Strip!”

  The guards looked at each other in surprise, unsure what to do. Spartan, still not grasping what the General was getting at lifted his own weapon and pointed it at the heads of the nearest two men.

  “You heard him!”

  The guards needed no further encouragement and quickly started to remove the webbing and armour though in their haste several of them managed to entangle themselves in the gear.

  “What the hell?” laughed Marcus at the scene that was rapidly turning to a farce.

  As the first man finally removed his body armour the laughing stopped. Underneath he wore prison fatigues and wore the same red band that they wore. Spartan lowered his rifle and walked up closer, holding the arm so that the band was in plain view.

  “Why are you wearing this?”

  The man started to stutter and Spartan turned his head at a slight angle, evidently unimpressed with the response he was receiving. Two more of the guards had removed their armour and exhibited the same clothing and red bands.

  “Look, we’re prisoners from the fabrication section. We’ve been down here for nearly a year. We finished work last week, they said we could join the rest in the factories or do one year’s guard work to earn freedom.”

  “Horseshit, man, no way did that happen!” Claus swore as he moved forward and punched one of the men hard in the stomach.

  “Hey, back off, now!” demanded General Rivers. “Fabrication section, what is that?”

  They stood in the centre of the prison compound a number of the prisoners emerged from cover and wandered over to see what was happening. Many more stayed hidden, experience showing them that doing anything other that what they were told usually ended in swift punishment. Misaki stepped forward and bent down, placing her hands on one of the dropped rifles. She lifted it up and pointed it directly at the guards. Her face was contorted with anger and for a second it looked like she was going to open fire on them. Before she was able to make a decision a loud clunk came from the far end of the open hall. Everyone, including the captured guards, turned to the direction of the sound. With a mighty hiss the large metal doors at the end opened to reveal three darkened shapes. They stood there, silent but terrifying as the loudspeaker system switched on.

  “This is the Governor, I see you have all been introduced. This is unfortunate but not at all unexpected. Now that you have had your fun all prisoners will return to their holding areas. Guards, return to entry point Bravo for debriefing.”

  There was a short pause and a number of the people ran back to their cells, some even clambering over the dead or wounded to reach what they considered to be safety. Misaki and two other prisoners stayed out in the open with Spartan and the rest. All were now armed and waiting for something violent and terrible to happen. The speakers clicked once more.

  “Of course, anybody refusing to comply will be dealt with in the usual manner, a short visit to the surface.” There was a chilled silence, as they all stood waiting.

  Almost in perfect synchronisation with his voice the three shapes moved forward to reveal themselves as three-metre tall Biomechs. They were the modified assault troops used so effectively by the Zealots in their struggle against the Confed military. Spartan and his companions, as well as most in the red group, were aware of what they were but many of the others started screaming at the sight of the terrible creatures. They moved to within twenty metres before stopping and lowering their weapons at the group. From this distance they looked like a horrible cross between a human wrestler and an ogre from the old fairy tales. These were no creatures though and were armoured and armed as you would expect to see any other soldier or military vehicle.

  “That’s just great!” said Spartan in a tone that couldn’t have been any less sarcastic.

  General Rivers looked around at their small number and then back to the cells where scores of prisoners were cowering.

  “What’s the plan, General?” Marcus asked him.

  The others looked to him as the guards started to move away and towards the doorway. They walked with the obvious body language of defeated men, certainly not the hired thugs they expected would work in a place like this. One of the men stopped and turned back, two of the others stopped with him. He looked about before looking directly at Spartan and the General.

  “Did you say General? General Rivers?”

  He nodded in reply, saying nothing.

  The guard looked at him closely and then over to Spartan, his expression had already changed from earlier, there was now a hint of something. At first glance it appeared to be hope, but closer examination showed it to be more likely intrigue.

  “I heard rumours about you, yeah, probably over a year ago. Is it true you held off an insurgent assault on a Confed compound singlehanded?”

  General Rivers ignored the waiting Biomechs as he spoke directly to the guards.

  “I was the only one left alive, I can tell you that.”

  The guard looked back at him for a moment and continued his walk to the doorway. For a moment it looked like he would turn back but as he slowed the short figure of Vespis entered, flanked by two armed guards. This time something was different though. Previously the normal security personnel in their dark clothing and body armour flanked him. This time they wore the robes of the Zealots and in Spartan’s experience that usually meant lots of additional armour concealed underneath the fabric. Each of the men carried a crude halberd, a polearm weapon with a vicious looking cutting blade and a sharpened tip. As they approached Spartan sensed something had changed and in his experience, it was rarely good.

  “You were warned, all of you. You had a chance to get out of here, instead you tried to be smart.” Flicking his hand as a signal to the rest of his guards, they each moved off around the group and quickly removed their red arms bands before returning to his side. They were still armed but Vespis didn’t seem to be troubled, probably because of his two guards and the three heavily armed Biomechs that watched over them.

  “Due to your attempted coup you’ve been fast tracked to the Harvesting Centre.”

  “Harvesting Centre?” asked Marcus.

  “Are you deaf?” shouted Vespis and with a hand signal one of the guards approached and smashed his rifle into Marcus’ stomach. The impact was hard and sent him crashing down to the floor in pain. A spurt of blood gushed from his mouth as he hit the ground. General Rivers bent down to help him but one of the Biomechs pointed a large calibre weapon directly at him and turned its head as if to say no. Spartan glanced at the weapon, noticing it was much bigger than the guns he’d seen them carrying in the past. It was easily the size of a heavy machinegun and contained multiple barrels that presumably rotated around a solid core. He almost forgot their situation as he stared at the new and wicked looking firearm.

  “As I was explaining,” said Vespis with an irritated tone, “you will be transferred to the Harvesting Centre! It’s a nice place, just what people like you need. Somewhere we can make use of those fine muscles of yours!” He looked back to the guards. “Shackle them!”

  Spartan moved away from the approaching man. The idea of the Harvesting Centre did little to inspire confidence in his situation. As he started to move
he felt the cold metal of a rifle muzzle at his temple. Spartan turned slightly to see it was the guard he had spoken to, he must have turned back to assist in the situation. Vespis moved towards him and gave the guard a harsh look before turning back to Spartan.

  “I’m not asking, prisoner. Do as you’re told or lose your head, that’s your only choice!” he snarled and then moved back to the guard.

  “What are you doing back here? You can go back with your comrades for debriefing, then you’ll return to your cells. You had your chance!” he snapped.

  Three more of the original guards had now moved back near the Biomechs and an argument had erupted though it was too far away for Spartan and his people to hear what was going on. As they stood watching one of the Biomechs twisted its upper body and swung its arm and smashed a guard several metres before he hit the ground. It moved to strike the next man but was grabbed by the other two Biomechs who smashed it down to the floor and tried to hold it down.

  “What the hell is going…!” shouted Vespis before Spartan jumped forward and grabbed his left arm, quickly locking his elbow and twisting it behind his back. He screamed out but Spartan forced his knee into the back of Vespis’ knee, pushing him to the ground in pain.

  Marcus and the General needed no direction and took up positions around Spartan as Misaki stood her ground and lifted her rifle to point at the Biomechs.

  “General, now!” shouted the guard who ducked to avoid being struck by one of the Biomechs.

  Marcus opened fire first and was joined by the General and Misaki as they poured fire into the two Zealot guards. Their fire was accurate and the first man took the impact of almost fifty rounds in the face and chest. As he hit the floor the second Zealot jumped forward towards them. Several rounds slammed through the robes but must have hit his armour as he kept coming. He reached within three metres of Marcus when Misaki leapt out and smashed the butt of her rifle into his face. As he fell down Marcus put a round into his forehead. The rest of the guards picked up other weapons and signalled to Spartan and the others to join them.