Battle for Proxima

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Casualties?” asked Spartan over the radio.

  “None, so far. Every time we tried to push ahead we take fire from the weapons.”

  “Stand your ground, I’m sending the engineers ahead for you.”

  Spartan tapped a key to access the additional voice channels. “Engineers here, what do you need?”

  “3rd Squad is pinned by machine gun fire on the right flank.”

  “Understood, we’re on the way,” said the sergeant in charge, with a matter of fact tone.

  Spartan hadn’t fought alongside this particular group of engineers before, but experience had shown him they were all a tough bunch. Out behind their battle line, he saw the first moving forward. Each of the marines wore the modified CES suits with the large excavator blades and additional heavy armour on the front. Several rounds of small arms fire hit them but did nothing of note.

  “Let’s go!” he cried to Teresa and moved out, following behind the path left by the skirmishers. 1st and 2nd Squad were making good progress and Spartan had already passed over twenty enemy dead. One of Lovett’s squad moved out to his left, when he spotted a man with a rocket launcher.

  “Look out!” he shouted and jumped ahead. The strength and power of the suit pushed him two metres forward, far further than he could ever have managed before. As he moved through the air, half the Vanguards in the squad targeted the unfortunate rocket shooter. Over fifty rounds struck him and he quickly disintegrated. It wasn’t just that the man’s body was shattered, he simply disappeared by the horrendous overkill. Spartan landed on the ground just as the rocket slammed down next to Teresa. Their armour was more than sufficient, but its primitive charge sent rocks and dust all around them. Spartan was knocked forward by the blast and stumbled before crashing to the ground. His left knee hit a series of rocks and several lights flashed to indicate a temporary drop and change in pressure in the armour.

  “Here they come!” shouted Sergeant Lovett.

  Spartan looked up to see the shadows of Biomechs moving out of the dust towards their loose skirmish line. He recognised their height, as well as their peculiar gait. These were the more modern Biomechs, the generation before Gun and his Jötnar, and probably the most advanced models still using human parts. He pushed the ground hard and forced himself upright, instantly noting the impact of light ammunition pattering against his armour.

  “Hold the line!” he shouted, lifting both arms to take aim with all four barrels. Off to his side he noticed something attached to one of the Biomechs, it looked like a standard. Pressing a key, the display magnified the area and the creature in particular.

  “What the hell!” shouted one of the Vanguards, as he spotted the same peculiar item.

  Spartan looked again, it was certainly a standard. It looked like the shape of a beautiful woman with the body of a serpent and two coiled, serpent's tails.

  “Echidna?” he muttered.

  “I’ve seen that before,” shouted Teresa between firing bursts from her L48 rifles. “It’s the symbol of the Union!”

  “Not for long!” he replied under his breath and calmly squeezed his triggers. He fired in shorts bursts, each in the direction of the approaching enemy warriors. Around the feet of the Biomechs were scores of the smaller creatures, some running and others moving using all four limbs. It looked like something from hell.

  “Lieutenant Weathers here. We’re picking up several columns of vehicles approaching the perimeter wall from the west. Approximately thirty vehicles, most are carrying troops. From here, it looks like they have Biomechs on foot following behind.”

  In the broken, windswept streets of the city, Spartan stepped out into the open. Around him moved a dozen Vanguards, each slotting into a loose line. It was a drill they had often practiced, giving them maximum firepower and mutual protection. Three Biomechs staggered from behind a small building and a dozen of the smaller creatures rushed forward from around them. The Vanguards stayed cool, half shooting at the larger Biomechs, the rest taking very careful aim at the smaller ones. It was over fast and not one creature reached closer than ten metres.

  “Keep moving forward!” called Spartan. As one, the line opened up slightly and they moved at a walking pace, still firing as they moved. Inside his suit, Spartan checked the position and progress of the other Vanguards. They were split up into six small groups now and working their way around the western side of the city.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Frigates and destroyers have a long history in the Confederate Navy. The frigates are the mainstay of all fleets. They are small and fast enough to operate as the eyes of the fleet and powerful enough to escort larger ships. A destroyer, on the other hand, is smaller and designed to hunt down frigate class ships in small groups. Both have a critical part to play in small anti-piracy operations and full-scale fleet encounters.

  Naval Cadet’s Handbook

  Commander Anderson read the last report from Sergeant Kowalski. He sat in the office formally used by the compound’s governor, although Confed agents had removed most of the equipment. From this location, he had video feeds and data from all the operational parts of the base. He looked back down at the report, intrigued by the comments highlighted by the Sergeant. The scouting mission was supposed to have been nothing more than routine, but it seemed they had bitten off more than they could chew. He lifted his head up to the sound of his deck intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “Captain Leander, Sir.”

  “Good, send him in.”

  The door opened to reveal the Captain of the scout frigate and the outlines of two marine guards who watched the door. The officer moved inside, saluting in front of him.

  “At ease, Captain. I’ve been reading your report, as well as the report from the marine detachment on board led by Sergeant Kowalski. I’m sure you’re aware that most of our forces are away with the Fleet.”

  “Yes, Sir, hence our need to maintain a constant vigil, in and around the storms, to keep Prometheus secure.”

  “Quite. So the report you have sent me concerns me greatly. You say you found a debris field roughly twenty thousand kilometres from the final beacon. Do you have any idea what the debris was from?”

  “Sergeant Kowalski’s knowledge of tech and metallurgy is impressive to say the least, Sir. He has performed a series of tests and is almost certain it matches the materials from the shipyards, Sir. We retained several plating sections for study by the intel teams stationed here.”

  “Good work, Captain. Is the Sergeant with you?”

  “He is, Sir.”

  “Excellent, please send him in on your way out. Give me an update on your ship’s status as soon as possible.”

  The young Captain saluted and left the room. A few moments later, Sergeant Kowalski walked in and waited for the door to shut firmly behind him. His salute was a little less firm that the Captain’s and the look on his face suggested he had important news.

  “Out with it, man!” said the Commander, trying and failing to disguise his intrigue.

  “The Captain, there is something odd about him, Sir.”

  “He was one of the many Confed officers imprisoned here, we were lucky to find so many Navy crew to help with the construction of the basic defence force here.”

  “That is just it, Sir. He has an attitude, as though he has a chip on his shoulder about something. I don’t know what exactly, but he has a real problem whenever I mention General Rivers or anybody involved in the revolt.”

  “Odd, if it wasn’t for the General and yourself, the escape would never have happened.”

  “I know, there is something definitely wrong. I didn’t really think much of it, until he refused to bring back debris and the material from the wreckage we found. I had to almost cause a riot to get just a few samples on board. Of course, those being taken to the labs are not actually what we found.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “I used one of the maintenance drones to grab three chunks of metal and stowed
them inside the hangar.”

  “What? Without the knowledge of Captain Leander?”

  “I think the Captain is working for the Union or maybe he just has something to hide. Either way, he is a problem, Sir. We need to find out what is going on. I’m pretty sure he was trying to hide the evidence.”

  Commander Anderson leaned forward. “Hiding what?”

  The Sergeant lifted his datapad from his side and slid it across the table. The Commander examined the details for almost a minute before looking up to Kowalski.

  “You’re sure? If you are correct then we have a big problem. Your analysis shows this to be battle-damaged sections of a heavy transport, likely to be the Yorkdale. Couldn’t this just be debris from the ship passing through the area?”

  “No, Sir. Look at the carbon analysis, the fragments have been hit by a powerful weapon. I would put strong odds on the fact that something happened after the Yorkdale, and the rest of the reinforcement fleet, left the storms.”

  Commander Anderson examined a detailed map of the space around Prometheus and then tracked the route to Euryale. It was a difficult journey, but if the Sergeant was correct, they may have been ambushed en route.

  “The reserve fleet is critical to the operation in this sector. We are talking eighteen ships and eight escorts. How could they have been attacked?”

  Before Kowalski could answer, the video communication unit on his desk started to flash. Commander Anderson looked down to see it was coming from the monitoring post on the Prometheus Seven Trading Post. It was flagged as urgent and of command level importance. For a second he considered sending the Sergeant out of the room, but quickly changed his mind, the man already knew more than probably his own intelligence services. He tapped the connection button, the face of a man in a dark suit appeared.

  “Commander. We have just picked up capital ship signatures coming through the storm, they are due to arrive within the hour.”

  “Capital ships? Ours?”

  “Unknown, Sir. The storms are playing havoc with our sensors. We do know that there are at least six, possibly seven ships and they are moving fast.”

  “Understood. Initiate a Code Alpha shutdown on the station. We need to prepare.”

  The man nodded and the signal cut instantly.

  “Code Alpha?” asked Sergeant Kowalski.

  “It is the defensive code I established before the troops left. It is the code for a full military lockdown on Prometheus. All military and private security vessels will assemble around the station and the entrance to the storms. All external entry points to our facility here will be sealed and troops stationed at all points.”

  “You’re expecting trouble?”

  “Aren’t you?” replied Commander Anderson.

  “I’d better go and help the security details then. If it is trouble, we don’t want them inside.”

  Sergeant Kowalski stood to move but Anderson reached out and stopped him.

  “Good work, Sergeant. Don’t go too far. If what you say is true, we could have more potential problems here than we thought.”

  He nodded in agreement and left the room. Anderson returned to his desk and thought for a moment. The possibility of enemy ships moving to this area was of grave concern, if nothing else because all major combat forces were away from the compound. He had minimal numbers with which to defend the area. He would just have to rely upon the preparations he had already made and hope he could hold out long enough. As he sat there, curiosity finally got the better of him. He tapped a few buttons and brought up the military records of Captain Leander. By all accounts, the young man was a credit to the Navy. His record was clean, no problems in the last three years and his service as an escort commander at the Siege of Titan had won him a commendation.

  “What is your secret?” he asked quietly.

  The first page on his dossier described him physically, as well as outlining his closest family. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary, until he spotted an image of a man.

  “It can’t be,” he muttered.

  The face of the man looked almost identical to the man that had betrayed General Rivers and the rest of the rioters at the last minute. He picked up the intercom.

  “Get Captain Leander back here immediately!” he said sternly.

  “Sir!” came the reply.

  He looked back at the screen and brought up the details of the man that had caught his eye. All it said was that Captain Leander’s brother, a Tigran Leander, had gone missing seven months earlier. It was an unusual name and strangely similar to the Tigris on this very colony. Could it be that the Captain had a brother who had also been a prisoner? Was there a link? A knock came at the door.

  “Come!” he answered.

  The door opened and in walked a suspicious looking Captain.

  Commander Anderson stood up and walked towards him. “Tell me, Captain, what of your brother?”

  “My brother? I don’t understand,” he said, though the look on his face told Anderson exactly what he needed to know.

  “Damn it, man, answer the question or I’ll have it torn from you!” he said furiously.

  Before the Captain could answer Anderson held up his datapad showing the images of Tigris taken from the video feeds during the revolt. It showed him approaching the now dead governor of the compound, killed during the battle.

  “This is your brother isn’t it?”

  The Captain said nothing.

  “Your silence condemns you. Are you a man or a Zealot-loving traitor? At least your brother had the guts to make a decision.”

  The Captain was still silent.

  * * *

  CCS Crusader broke away from the main battle to chase the single remaining Union cruiser and her five frigate escorts. She was the largest and most powerful vessel still fighting and three full broadsides from the Crusader hadn’t been able to stop her. The frigates hung around her stern as a mobile, living shield against fire from the pursuing battlecruiser. Several large holes had been torn through her hull, yet she refused to give up. For every shot that struck her reinforced hull, she returned double. Dozens of small turrets blasted hundreds of cannon rounds, making it deadly for fighters to approach. From the CiC, Admiral Jarvis watched in anticipation as they gave chase.

  “There must be some way of stopping her. How long until she is in range of the rest of the armada around Euryale?”

  “Our orbiting assault force will be in direct line of fire in seven minutes, Admiral.”

  “We have to stop them, keep the forward guns firing!”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the weapons officer who continued firing the small bow battery. It was pathetic compared to the firepower from the flanks of the ship, but it did at least let them feel they were doing something useful. Admiral Jarvis stood for a second, feeling the vibration through the floor. Each time the main guns fired, a low hum would reverberate through some of the floor plates. It was an odd feeling, but also somehow reassuring. As long as the hum continued, it meant the heart of the ship was beating.

  “Why don’t we just turn and hit her with another broadside?” asked the XO.

  Captain Tobler looked at the tactical screen and checked the disposition of the ships. By moving forward, but at a slight angle, it would give them just enough space to bring their guns to bear. The downside would be, that if the ship continued accelerating it would take even longer to reach the enemy.

  “Why not maintain course and coast? We’ll continue at the same velocity and can turn and fire without altering our course.”

  The XO checked the charts again and shook his head.

  “We take a big risk cutting the engines. The cruiser is still accelerating and she’ll be amongst our transports in a matter of minutes.”

  Captain Tobler could see the risks and Admiral Jarvis had already made it clear to him that he needed to stop the ship, by ramming if necessary.

  “Navigation, alter our course by fifteen degrees. Put us between the transports and the cruiser.
Fire when ready on the starboard batteries!”

  The XO nodded in agreement and moved over to the tactical officer. In seconds, the steady hum from the weapon systems could be felt through the mighty warship. On the main screen, one of the frigates shook from multiple impacts before half of the port superstructure tore off. The ship appeared crippled but continued moving in the same direction.

  “We’re just creating more debris around her stern, we need to get closer, and quickly, so we can deliver a killing blow!”

  “Sir, the frigates are breaking off and moving to intercept us!” shouted the tactical officer.

  Captain Tobler banged his fist on his terminal.

  “They’re trying to buy time for the cruiser. Ignore the frigates, full power to engines and get us alongside the cruiser. Keep the guns running, we won’t stop her, standing back like this!”

  A rumble shook the ship as the engines powered up to the maximum combat speed. Alarms triggered for the rotating sections to slow down and stop, and for the crew to strap themselves in. The officers in the CiC moved to their seating areas and pulled on the straps fitted to each of them. Towards the front, the Captain and the XO continued discussing the tactical situation, the gun decks kept up their heavy fire. Admiral Jarvis leaned towards the science officer who was still busy checking the details of the enemy technology.

  “Do we have any intelligence on their weapons? Our ships have taken more damage than they should have. We’ve had entire ships lit up from a single hit.”

  The science officer skimmed through several screens of data. He turned with a look of confusion on his face and then shook his head.

  “It is strange, Sir. I’m not comfortable making an assessment with so little data.”

  “Comfortable?” she replied with a raised eyebrow.

  He noticed her look, it wasn’t one that was happy to simply wait for what he found convenient. He was about to speak but a barrage of shells must have struck the bow of the battlecruiser. Alarms stared to flash throughout the CiC and one of the computer systems near the Admiral sparked and flashed before failing spectacularly.