Fires of Prometheus

by Michael G. Thomas

  “How will we get through the doors to the command room?” asked Spartan.

  “Simple,” replied Tigris with a hint of a smile. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his security card. “This little guy will give us access to the security and command rooms, nothing more and nothing less.”

  General Rivers moved closer and examined the card before nodding in agreement.

  “That’s all we’re going to need. We get to the command centre, open all the weapons stores and release the prisoners.”

  “Agreed, Sir, come on!” said Tigris as he moved away from the door and rushed along the side of the open space towards one of the armoured and still closed doorways.

  “Release them? They’ll be massacred!” cried Misaki who until now had stayed silent. She tried to hold Spartan back as he moved past her. He stopped for a moment, looking hard at her.

  A small number of no more than a handful of the prisoners from the red group were still out of their cells and they were already picking up what weapons remained from the battle. One of the men, a gruff looking man in his fifties approached and looked up and down at Spartan.

  “What about the rest of them, you’re just leaving them here?”

  “No, once we have access to the command centre we’ll release them. For those that want to fight there’ll be weapons, don’t worry about that. We need you and anybody else you can find to set up defensive positions in this area until we can get access to the locks for the cells.” He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “If we don’t get back in time we’ll need you to hold them off until we can return with more weapons and help free the prisoners.”

  “I’ll stay with them,” said General Rivers, “ they need someone with experience to hold this place. It’s big but there’s plenty of cover. If we do it right we could hold back an entire company.”

  Spartan looked at him but he was less than convinced at the prisoners’ ability to defend the place. It didn’t matter though as they had little choice. He turned to Misaki.

  “Look, Misaki, in the end they are all dead if we don’t find a way to escape.”

  “You’re damn right,” said the old man as he held his captured shotgun in the air. The man turned and rushed back to the others as he explained the situation. Three of them were already dragging the bodies of those killed to the side of the space for extra cover. Spartan turned back to Misaki.

  “It’s better for them to die on their feet fighting than on their knees. Come on, we need your help as well!” said Spartan as turned and continued chasing Tigris. Misaki followed close behind.

  * * *

  Admiral Jarvis stood in the armoured bridge of the heavy cruiser CCS Furious and watched her small armada make slow but steady progress towards its rendezvous with the rest of the Fleet at Khimaira. It had taken some time to finally get this group ready for action. It was only by pressing many of the survivors of the destroyed cruisers at Kronus to serve on the warships, that enough crew had been found to man the vessels. Even so the ships were operating understrength but right now she needed as many major vessels in service as possible. Then of course there was also the problem of abandoned ships that could be used by the enemy. One damaged cruiser had been scuttled at Kerberos already due to lack of resources and to deny her to the enemy. Her armaments and supplies had been split amongst the rest of the ships. The Furious Battlegroup might be at half its normal strength but with four operational ships it would be able to provide a complete and effective combat division for the Fleet.

  From the view screen placed inside the bridge she was able to watch a magnified view showing the other ships close enough that she could count the antenna and weapon ports running down the flanks of the massive vessels. None of the ships were in brilliant condition and each was marked and scorched from where they had been sitting for three years in dry dock. They were all Achilles class cruisers, warships designed as flexible ships that could operate independently or as part of a larger group. They were armed in much the same fashion as other Confed capital ships with electromagnetic railguns as the primary weapons. The hulls were littered with point defence turrets and each was capable of carrying a number of shuttles or landing craft. Though unable to deal with something like a battleship they were easily capable of taking on multiple destroyers and frigates or dozens of smaller vessels. The Furious was something else though. As a heavy cruiser she was a modified and heavily improved Achilles class with additional armour, larger power plant and more powerful weapons. She lacked bays for shuttles to make room for extra armour and gunports making her doubly effective as a weapons platform or command and control ship. She was second only to the handful of battleships and battlecruisers in the sector.

  The small task force’s destination was the carrier CCS Wasp that waited for the arrival of the Admiral along with a slowly growing number of ships. Since her last visit to Khimaira a month ago the flotilla had increased to double its size and every day more personnel arrived to join the fight. The planet and its orbiting stations had become a kind of rallying point for any forces or vessels sympathetic to the Confederacy.

  The communications officer turned in her seat and looked over to the Admiral who was still busy gazing at the assembled ships.

  “Admiral, Bellerophon, Patroclus and Perseus report their weapon systems are ready for gunnery trials.”

  She continued looking out at the ships. Most of the main guns on the cruisers were concealed behind sealed gunports. The design was partially to protect the vulnerable parts of the weapon systems but also to also reduce the warlike look of the vessels when around friendly vessels. It was well known that Perseus had never fired her guns in anger though she doubted that was a condition that was likely to remain for long. Few in the Fleet had managed that luxury in the last months. She barely registered the comments from her officer until noticing her waiting.

  “Tell them, good work, they may conduct their drills when ready. I want a full test and evaluation of the sanlav rounds in the cruiser weapons. I expect a full debriefing within the hour,” she demanded and then turned to her navigator.

  “How long until we reach the Fleet?”

  “Twenty-nine hours until Khimaira, Admiral, I’ve already received word that two more cutters have managed to escape from Orthrus and are due to arrive several hours before us.”

  “Excellent news, they should have intelligence on the enemies’ deployment in that System. Perhaps things are starting to look up for us. At some point the people in the rebel colonies are going to realise they have turned from a fair and equitable system to one of servitude,” she said to those on the bridge, though to herself she worried that many might not live to experience the revelation.

  “Admiral, we have just received a bounced signal from the Fleet, it is marked for your eyes only from Captain Hardy.”

  “Put it through to my datapad, Lieutenant.”

  Admiral Jarvis lifted the device from her belt and waited a few seconds before the encrypted message arrived from her communications officer. It was unusual to receive a message this way she thought. It must be important for it not to go to the commander of the Battlegroup but directly to her. After entering her access codes she accessed the video message. When the access screen slipped away it revealed the face of Captain Hardy.

  “Admiral, I have just received an encrypted emergency communication from vessels purporting to be from the Seventh Fleet. The transmission was encrypted but sent to High Command, it contains distress codes and a full log of their transit to our System over the last month.”

  “Seventh Fleet?” she muttered to herself, “I thought they were part of the Terra Nova Home Fleet. What’s going on?”

  Admiral Jarvis looked about the bridge, the officers were all busy and the Captain was pre-occupied checking navigation charts. For a moment she considered keeping the information to herself, normally she would discuss this with her right hand man, General Rivers. But with him gone she had no one as reliable and stead
y as him to talk with. The Captain was a decorated officer with years of combat experience and she had also conducted at least two tours at Carthago in the Alpha System.

  “Captain, look at this,” she ordered as she lifted her datapad up towards her.

  She turned from her duties to the message and read it intently. As her eyes moved further down the page she looked more and more incredulous. When she finished she looked back at the Admiral.

  “Interesting. The Seventh Fleet, heart of the Home Fleet. After all this time they just appear, right when we need them. I don’t like it, not one bit. This could easily be a trap to lure part of our Fleet to open space to be picked off or attacked. The signal could be faked and we have no idea if there is even a single Confed ship in that area.”

  The Admiral looked back at the datapad re-reading several of the sections. As she checked the specifics the Captain brought up a list of known ship dispositions. She centred on the ships known to be part of the Home Fleet. She ran her hand down the list, checking off each of the warships.

  “The order of battle at Alpha is impressive, I don’t see how a revolt even the size that we have faced could cause much trouble for them. Admiral, do we have any information on what has happened to the Alpha System? Do we assume they are in the same position as us, and trying to regain control? If so why cut off access to us? Maybe they were trying to stop the contagion and revolt from this sector spreading to the home Systems including Terra Nova?” asked Captain Williams.

  The Admiral nodded in agreement. She walked to the projection windows looking out into space. One of the cruisers was already firing periodic shots from its starboard batteries into target drones. Some of the weapons were fitted to the rotating sections and others were mounted directly into the static hull behind thick armour. She turned slightly to one side to look back to the Captain.

  “That is a good question. The last contact we received told us there had been an attempted coup, almost certainly by forces loyal to the secessionists. It was defeated and an embargo placed on the Proxima System until the situation is resolved. They could quite easily be sat waiting to get the all clear from us first.”

  Admiral Jarvis walked over to the tactical display and console and beckoned for the Captain to join her. The display was much like those on board the other capital ships though it lacked some of the three-dimensional display features shown on the carriers and battlecruisers. With a few deft movements she entered her access codes to view the last known Fleet disposition in the Alpha Centauri sector as well as the expected formations and supply routes. The display changed to Alpha Centauri and its two stars. The System was much more substantial and better developed than Proxima Centauri and contained thirteen colonised planets. At the heart of the System was the heavily built up capital of the entire Confederacy, the world of Terra Nova, built in the image of Old Earth and the most important planet next to Prime in Proxima Centauri. The Admiral pointed to a glowing orb in the middle of the map.

  “The primary communication hub is based here next to the Alpha transit point and about four days travel from Terra Nova. This is where our signals are normally gathered and then repeated to the various communication channels or ships. We have a similar communication and transit point in this System and yet there has been no communication or travel between them for over three months. The communication routes between the two star Systems had been jammed and the last official contact said they had been struck by a coup attempt and were shutting down the route to avoid contamination. Since then communication has remained jammed with digital noise and no vessels have arrived from Alpha.”

  “True but with a journey time for manned trips of over three hundred days is that surprising? Even if they left two months ago we would not have seen them yet.”

  “They could still try to communicate though. All they have to do is get past the jamming at the transit point and they would be clear to transmit. The question is, why haven’t they tried?” asked the Admiral.

  “Either they are unable to contact us or they are unwilling,” explained the Captain.

  “According to the attached notes the commander of the group states they are the remnants of a taskforce, including a carrier and a cruiser wing that have survived an ambush on their way from Alpha Centauri to the Titan Naval Station as part of a reinforcement detachment. They have apparently been conducting a fighting withdrawal for the last month. Their ETA at the Proxima transit point is eight days. Thoughts?”

  “I don’t like it, Admiral, but we can’t take chances with something this big. I suggest a token force to meet them. Small and fast just in case they hit trouble.”

  Admiral Jarvis stood for a moment, considering the situation. The Fleet assembled at Khimaira was closer to the transit point but there appeared to be no great hurry. Vessels could make the journey in two days, more than enough time for her to organise a plan with enough contingencies if it turned sour.

  “Lieutenant, get me a secure link to the Wasp, I need to speak with her captain asap.”

  “Understood,” replied Lieutenant Matterson as she started the procedure.

  The datapad started to buzz, the familiar sound when a high priority communication had arrived.

  “Excuse me,” said the Admiral as she moved away to a slightly more discrete part of the bridge.

  The incoming message was short but to the point. It was from the Tamarisk that was due to arrive at Prometheus within the hour. They would be making immediate contact with the arms dealer, with the intention of obtaining information to the whereabouts of contraband prisoner transfers and sale. He was requesting any additional units or support Confed might have at the station.

  “Good work, Anderson,” she said quietly to herself, “with luck you’ll find them before they vanish.”

  A few deft taps on the device and she sketched out an update on the tactical situation near the planet as well as the details of several safe houses if needed. Her final point in the message was that she would arrange for a local team to meet them upon their arrival, details to follow. As she signed out of her device and placed it back in its pouch on her belt, she moved back to her communications officer.

  “Almost there, Admiral,” said the officer who felt under even more pressure as the Admiral stood patiently.

  * * *

  They were already through the first door but fierce resistance from the last six remaining guards had kept them pinned down for more than four minutes. The corridor was wide but offered no protection from the defensive fire. The enemy were well equipped with assault rifles and at least one was armed with a thermal shotgun that made a mockery of any kind of armour. One of Tigris’ men had already been cut down trying to rush it. Spartan and Tigris kept checking around the corner for an opening but nothing presented itself. The enemy were at the far end where the corridor opened out into a small foyer with what looked like several small blast doors. At least one cabinet had been knocked over to provide the defenders with cover to shoot from.

  “We’re screwed man!” shouted Marcus, his own weapon now out of ammunition, “I’m out!”

  Spartan reached down and pulled his half expended pistol out. He quickly checked the magazine before passing it to Marcus.

  “Save the ammo, we need a plan and fast!”

  Spartan looked back in the direction they had come from. They’d already killed two guards getting to this stage by rushing the first corridor. The Biomechs had followed them and though one had made it the second had been pinned by a small group of Zealots who had stayed hidden and now cut-off their escape. With time of the essence they had been forced to leave it covering the rear.

  “What about him,” asked Spartan as he looked towards the waiting Biomech, “can he force his way inside?”

  Tigris made to answer but was interrupted by the great beast leaning over and speaking in its gruff, always angry tone. It was well armoured and seemed eager for a fight though whether it could fight its way down such a treacherous space was highly doubtful
to Spartan.

  “I can do it,” it said and without even checking for confirmation it stepped out into the corridor. Bullets struck into its armour immediately but with a series of painful grunts he pushed forward, lowering his heavy Gatling gun and staggered ahead. With a deafening roar the weapon opened up and filled the corridors with flames, smoke and spent shells.

  “The crazy bastard!” shouted Spartan. “Follow him!”

  Jumping from cover Spartan, Marcus, Tigris and Misaki moved up close behind the hulk. They fired the odd shot past him where they could but his great size blocked most of their view. It took only around twenty steps before they reached the end of the corridor. As the Biomech reached there it staggered and collapsed to the floor, blood dripping from numerous wounds. Spartan leapt over his body and right between two startled Zealot guards.

  “Bastards!” he cried as he smashed his rifle butt into the first man’s face and then spun around to fire multiple shots into the second who slammed against the wall and then dropped down dead.

  Marcus was quickly onto the injured first man smashing his own weapon several times into his face. The next two followed behind and took up positions in case any more guards arrived.

  “Inside is the command room, it should be empty, you ready?” asked Tigris.

  Spartan nodded and with a firm kick he forced open the unlocked interior door. As he went inside he could see it was empty. The room was about twenty by twenty metres and packed wall to wall with displays and computer systems.

  “Jackpot! I’ll get the system online, you watch the corridor in case anybody else tries to get in.”

  “I thought you said that was the only way in?” asked Misaki.

  “For us, it is. There are two more access points where the Biomech was killed. If they are fast they could get a few people there in the next few minutes, make sure they don’t get in!” he added and then turned to the computers.