He looked at his tactical screen and the plans of the War Barge. The ship was massive but he had no intentions of hanging around. It shook violently and he had to grab one of the walls to stop being thrown about.
“Looks like they started shooting.”
“It’s expected, if the ship gets much closer they’ll be able to hit our transports. We need to get a shift on.”
He slammed his metal fists into the sealed door and forced it to the side. As it pushed across, it revealed a devastated corridor marked with bullets holes and thermal damage. Spartan stepped inside, his boots thudding down hard as he moved slowly along. Teresa followed, her weapon arms lowered and moving from left to right as she checked for hostiles.
“What’s the plan?” asked Teresa.
“You remember the Bone Mill?”
“I’m still trying to forget it.”
“Anyway, you find the links to the AI hub. According to the briefings, the enemy have been installing them to control hardware and even ships. This ship has been captured and used against the Fleet. I’m betting the reason the Jötnar can’t regain control is that is isn’t men in charge.”
“You think they’ve already got a hub installed? That’s a bit of a leap!”
“Maybe, it’s the best I have though. If you were going to install one, where would you put it? The CiC?”
“No chance, it’s the best guarded part of the ship. Anywhere where the ship’s data connections meet would be fine. As far from weapons lockers, or widely used parts of the ship, would be best.”
Spartan scrolled though the plans and came to two likely locations.
“Okay, either the secondary or the communications deck.”
“Deck? The ship has a separate comms deck? That would be perfect. Large numbers of computers, plus access to the communications array. Where is it?”
Spartan checked, taking a few seconds to trace the route.
“Here, about fifty metres behind the CiC and inside this armoured node.”
“Yeah, look. It’s heavily protected from external weapons fire. No wonder we can’t stop the ship. Only a series of charges around the node could destroy it. That has to be done from inside.”
Another heavy blast shook the ship and Spartan slammed up against the wall before regaining his footing.
“Come on, we don’t have long!”
They went along the long corridor and turned off to follow the primary corridor around the port side of the hull. In two minutes of slow progress, they had still not found a single soul. Turning once more, Spartan spotted a number of yellow flashes, like strobes in the distance. He stopped, lifting his arm for Teresa to stop.
“Looks like we’ve found trouble. Watch your fire, there could be friendlies in this area.”
He pushed on much slower, until they reached the end and came to a T-junction. More gunfire blasted from the right and two wounded Jötnar moved past and towards the sound of the gunfire. They were dragging themselves along the walls. Spartan went around the corner and ran behind them. In his armour, he was almost the same size and bulk as the creatures. Teresa was closely behind him. They carried on for about twenty metres until reaching an open space littered with debris and broken bodies. Masses of gunfire ripped through the space, smashing into the thick metal interior.
“Who’s in charge here?” demanded Spartan.
From the front, the bloodiest and obviously wounded leader turned to face him.
“Gun!” he said, with obvious pleasure.
“Spartan?” he replied and hit him with his fist. It was a friendly gesture but the impact knocked Spartan back a full metre before being stopped by another two Jötnar.
“What you here?” asked the creature, his language skills still not fully refined.
“I’m here to save your ass!” said Spartan.
“No, here for Severus. He is a prisoner…there!” he replied, waving his arm down the corridor and towards the entrance of the CiC.
“Forget that. If we get to the comms deck, we can stop their control of the guns and try and get the engines back under control.”
“Where?” asked Gun.
“Follow me!” Spartan clambered off to the corridor leading to the right. Gun followed, pulling himself along the walls with speed and skill that suggested he’d spent years training to do it. They left the area of the main fighting to find themselves in a narrow corridor, barely wide enough for them to fit inside. Spartan reached the end and a sealed doorway. He tried to open it but it refused to move, either locked from the other side or jammed from damage.
“You sure?” asked Gun with a cocked head.
“Yes, through the door, left twenty metres, then through the hatch to the communications deck.”
“Okay, my way!” he growled.
Spartan look confused, then he spotted the creature lifting his arm with his fitted Gatling gun. He pulled himself out of the way just in time for the massive volley of shells to hammer against the door. At first they simply ripped chunks from the metal, but then quickly tore larger holes until the entire metal section ruptured and fell backwards. Gun pushed his body through the wrecked doorway and looked to the left. He turned to Spartan and grinned.
“Come on, my turn!” he growled.
Spartan followed to find him waiting in the corridor and looking ahead. Along the floor and walls ran a series of thick tubes, cables and pipes. They were a different colour to the rest of the vessel. Gun looked back at Spartan and cocked his head.
“Yeah, this looks like the place.” Teresa appeared through the hole and looked down at the pipes. “Yeah, same as on Prime,” she looked up, seeing movement ahead.
“Get down!” she cried but it was too late. A massive burst of gunfire ripped into Spartan. The first bullets hit his head and then drew a line down his body to his leg. The impact sent him spinning out of control down the corridor.
“No!” screamed Teresa and lifted her right arm. Round after round blasted towards the enemy position and she lifted one foot after the other, moving towards the lights. Gun held onto the bulkhead, blood drifting from wounds to his chest in balls of dark red. He appeared unperturbed by the injury and lowered his arm, adding his own fire to that of Teresa’s.
She pushed forward, ignoring the odd bullet striking her, until she reached the doorway leading inside the communications deck. Three men, all in traditional Zealots clothing and armour, blocked her way. She looked past them to see a series of cases and computer gear. Behind it all, was what appeared to be a cylinder with pipes and cables running from it. She didn’t have time for examination but in her heart she was certain it was an AI hub.
The first man fired his weapon but she pushed her left arm towards him and opened fire. His head vanished in a blast of blood against wall. She turned to the second but her ammunition alert beeped. She was out. Just two men armed with rifles were all that stood between the Confederacy and control of the ship. The nearest lifted his rifle and the second rushed towards her with a wicked curved blade.
Spartan shook his head, still partially stunned and in great pain. The alerts had stopped in the suit, its internal power unit now ruptured and bleeding just like him. He turned his head as far as it would go, to see Teresa at the end of the corridor. She lifted her armoured metal fist and jumped forward through the doorway, stabbing with her articulated arms and screaming through the suit’s built-in external speakers. As she disappeared inside the communications deck, Spartan finally passed out.
* * *
In the CiC of the Crusader, the crew watched as the old War Barge sustained scores of hits, nothing would stop her course. The forward guns had been quickly silenced by heavy cruiser fire, yet the plucky ship kept moving onwards. The tactical officer turned in surprise.
“Admiral, her thrusters are moving her on a trajectory away from the Fleet. Something has changed.”
“Are you sure?” she demanded.
“Yes, Sir. Her guns are silent.”
“Message from t
he Vengeance, Sir. It is Sergeant Morato of the Vanguards.”
Captain Tobler breathed a sigh of relief and indicated to put the feed on the main screen. The image changed as she lifted the intercom to speak with the Fleet.
“This is Admiral Jarvis. All ships, cease fire! I repeat. All ships, cease fire!”
As quickly as it had started, the violent assault of weaponry stopped to leave the debris strewn heavy warship limping away from the waiting guns.
“We’ve secured the communications deck. It was infiltrated by a Zealot raiding party. We destroyed the AI Hub and cleared the deck. The remaining enemy forces are being guarded by the Jötnar. I repeat, CCS Vengeance in under our control and no longer a threat to the Fleet!”
Admiral Jarvis stepped closer to the video feed so she could speak directly to the Sergeant.
“Excellent work, Sergeant. What is the status of Lieutenant Spartan and Commander Gun?”
Sergeant Morato looked to her side for a few seconds before looking back.
“Both are injured, they should be okay once we get them some proper medical attention. Spartan has sustained burns and bullet wounds to his arm and legs. Commander Gun, well, he is acting as though nothing is wrong. I think he has sustained chest wounds.”
“I will send over a marine escort to assist in your efforts. You and your comrades have done us a great service.”
Sergeant Morato saluted smartly.
“Sir. I need to get back to our forces, we still have some mopping up to do.”
“Understood. Expect a marine force in less than ten minutes. Watch yourself out there. Good hunting!”
The feed went blank. Admiral Jarvis stood alone in the centre of the room. It was deathly silent as they waited for her to say or do something. She lifted her hand to her face for a moment, almost dizzy with the news that they had overcome terrible odds. She reached out to the table to steady herself, pulling at the intercom.
“This is the Admiral. The Battle for Euryale is over. This is our first victory and it will not be the last!”
The officers in the CiC erupted into cheers and clapping and for a moment, however brief, Admiral Jarvis allowed herself a moment of relief.
It looked like the war was starting to turn in their favour.
THE END
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
Battle for Proxima Page 26