“Sergeant, did they follow you back here?” he asked.
Heavy gunfire ripped through the base, and before she had time to answer, the two were out and moving into firing positions along the perimeter. Teresa was still in her filthy PDS suit, whereas the General wore just the chest part of his armour.
“No way, Sir, we covered our tracks and followed a zigzag course. They must have tracked electronic signatures or something else. He nodded in agreement but was well aware that even the ASOG troopers were not ghosts.
“Get your people to the walls, Sergeant. We have need of your skills once more.”
She saluted and moved out, indicating for her comrades to follow her to the barricades. Light was already starting to fade in the camp, and with the never-moving mist, it was hard to see what was happening before the enemy reached point-blank range. Teresa climbed the crudely constructed ladder and rested her carbine on top of the wall facing the direction of the enemy.
“Gods! she exclaimed.
The terrifying image of scores of Zealots running foolhardily towards their wooden defences almost made her stagger and fall from the crude raised position. She checked the safety on her weapon and joined in with the rest of the defenders. Concentrated rifle and carbine gunfire tore them apart before they made it even halfway from the tree line to the fences. But the Zealots weren’t the problem, and even as she helped in gunning them down, she wondered if they were being driven to the barricades rather than choosing to attack. Out of the mist, and behind the Zealots, appeared the great metallic machines. The mere sight of them froze her in mid movement. It was hard to make out their exact shape, but the size and moving limbs confirmed to her they were the same or certainly very similar to the large four-legged machines at the dome. They made slow progress but inched towards the base like a pair of armoured beetles, their powered metal limbs ripping foliage and woodland apart. From deep within their bodies came that terrible screaming sound, and she spotted at least three crewmen fall from the wall in terror at the noise.
They must have found our trail. We spent hours covering it. It just doesn’t make sense.
A long burst of gunfire from the machine to the right quickly snapped her out of her daze, however, especially when the blast ripped open a hole in the barricade and cut down two marines in a burst of blood and metal.
“Kill them!” she screamed, and with one deft movement selected the full-power setting on her carbine. She’d rarely used the weapon on that setting before, but something about those alien-looking machines told her she’d need every ounce of firepower at her disposal. She took aim at the nearest and hit it with a single triple-round blast. Unlike the rounds fired from the other firearms, the carbine’s massive advantage in muzzle-velocity, combined with the armour-penetrating slug, tore fist-sized holes from the machine. The battle for the compound had begun.
* * *
Threat alarms blasted through the interior of the shuttle as ground-based sensors tried to identify the three craft. Their rapid descent through the atmosphere would have been relatively easy to detect, but the craft had been specially designed to give off no obvious signatures. Spartan just hoped they would be picked up as meteors or even better, missed completely. Either way, they were almost past this stage of their descent, and the design and build of the shuttles would make them all but impossible to detect as they dropped down to their selected landing zones.
“Lieutenant, what’s our safe distance with these shuttles?” he asked the pilot through his Vanguard armour’s comms unit.
The man turned back briefly to answer.
“About forty to fifty klicks in a straight line. Once we’re down to the surface, we can stay below most active scanners to nearly ten kilometres. After that...” he shrugged.
Spartan nodded and looked to the other seven occupants of the shuttle. He’d split up the expertise on each craft so that there was a degree of redundancy in the landing. There was no sense having all the tech experts in one shuttle and all the assault troops in the other. He’d taken Khan, Kowalski, two Vanguards from his old unit and three of the most experienced marines on the Santa Cruz. The Vanguards were of a similar size and build to Khan, but it was the mechanics, power systems and armour that provided the muscle for the marines as opposed to Khan’s physique and brute strength. Unlike the PDS armour worn by the marines, this much larger suit was a development of the much older and more primitive Combat Engineer Suits. It was powered and included thickened protection, integral blades and firearms. The Vanguards had proved themselves on multiple occasions during the heavy close quarter combat on a multitude of colonies.
“Khan, you ready for this?” he called over to his friend.
The Jötnar simply grinned in response. One thing Spartan could always count on was the brutality and enjoyment of combat by him and his people. The Jötnar were easily the equal of the Vanguards and capable of taking on multiple Zealots or even another Biomech one-on-one.
“Sir, my scanners are picking up the coded signal from the target. It is phasing out as expected.”
“Good,” he replied.
The pilot returned to his own screen but continued speaking as he made adjustments. His co-pilot checked the ground below them with advanced passive imaging gear, but even this low, the thick atmosphere and mist made it very difficult.
“We’ll be under their radar in just over a minute, and then it’s the quick burn to the landing site.”
Spartan hoped beyond hope they weren’t too late. He was well aware that just surviving on a foreign world was hard enough without potential enemies to account for.
“Any sign of survivors yet?”
“Nothing yet, I am picking up a tracking station near the suspected weapon sites. It’s good gear but not likely to pick us up now at this height. There’s something else as well.”
Spartan swallowed, expecting the worst.
“What?”
“It’s the power levels. They are off the charts. There’s no way they need this level of energy to power up their tracking or weapon systems. There’s something else down there, Sir.”
“Yes, I don’t doubt it. Just get us near the signal source as quickly and quietly as you can.”
The man nodded and carried on with the low-level flight procedures. From the small windows, Spartan could see very little except the thick haze and water droplets covering the toughened glass. He turned and looked back to his team.
“Don’t forget the air. Initial assessments show a higher than normal level of nitrogen. It’s breathable, but only just. Use the rebreather on your suits as much as possible.”
Khan laughed.
“What?” Spartan asked.
“Where’s my rebreather?” he asked.
Spartan looked at his friend and realised he’d completely forgotten to ensure the Jötnar were equipped for the atmospheric conditions below.
Damn it! He thought angrily.
“Don’t worry, we’ll manage,” he said without a second’s doubt.
The craft bumped and jostled as they settled into a low-level course over the treetops. Both the craft and the pilots were the best the Alliance had to offer, and even Khan seemed impressed at their skill. It didn’t take long for them to cover the distance to the landing zone. Spartan spotted the dark grey shapes of the two craft following behind them.
“Twenty seconds, we’re coming in over the river. I’ll put her down in that clearing.” said the pilot.
No sooner had they started the landing procedure than the starboard side windows lit up bright yellow. A light patter like rain ran along the body, and then they were within a hundred metres.
“Sensors picking up signs of movement, heat signature...what the!”
The shuttle shook as the pilot tried to manoeuvre, but it was much too late. Something heavy struck one of the movable engine pods, and the shuttle was heading down. It was a testament to the skill of the pilots that they managed to bring it down in one piece. They struck the riverbank hard a
nd came to a stop in the mud. The doors hissed open, and as per usual, Spartan was up and out. Instead of stepping into a crash site, he found himself in the middle of a battle.
What have they gotten themselves into?
Directly in front of him was a very basic wooden fortification that must have been about the size of a sports field. Three of its sides faced the thick jungle while a much lower palisade protected the water edge. Inside were stacks of boxes, tents, shelters and the stripped remains of what looked like an escape shuttle or lifeboat. Scores of people were positioned on or near the high wooden walls and were blasting away with Alliance issue firearms. Khan stepped beside him, and the other five spread out into a firing line, scanning for signs of hostiles. Sergeant Kowalski moved to the cockpit to check on the status of the pilots. Khan looked briefly at the sounds of battle then back to Spartan.
“Looks like we came to the right place!” said a happy sounding Khan.
“Yeah, come on, we need to find out what the hell is going on here.”
They sprinted further into the compound and skirted off to the left where a group of Navy crew were carrying a box of ammunition to the fence. One of them spotted him and stopped.
“Sir? Lieutenant Spartan?” he asked incredulously.
Spartan had no idea who he was, but they were obviously friendly. The uniform was of the old Confederate Navy pattern but that meant little. He was only too familiar with the problems of units, uniforms and logistics since the end of the War and the forming of the Alliance. He reached out and grabbed the shaken looking man by the shoulder.
“Who is in charge here?” he asked.
The man looked up to the barricade and the silhouetted shapes above them. Flashes of orange and yellow light lit them from behind. As Spartan watched, a stream of bullets rip through the wood and cut down a marine who tumbled back and to the floor.
“The General...General Rivers,” he stuttered.
Rivers!
“To me!” he shouted and ran to a pile of crates and boxes that gave access to the fighting platform. He couldn’t make it all the way to the top, as his bulk in the Vanguard armour and the weak construction of the platform and the barrier, would have easily tossed him back to the ground. He reached a high enough vantage point so that he could see out and towards the commotion outside the compound. Hordes of people were rushing to the defences but being cut to ribbons by accurate rifle fire. It was the sight of the mechanical beasts that shook him.
“What the hell is that?” he shouted while simultaneously lifting his right arm. Built into his suit was a pair of linked L48 rifles, the standard weapon used by most marines. It fired a standard 12.7mm round equipped with an integral proximity mode on the bullets. The rifle normally carried a magazine of twenty rounds of variable operation ammunition. These state of the art bullets could be set to explode at a certain distance or when they reached the proximity of their target. He aimed at the nearest of the machines and opened fire. Both barrel flashes away and the gyrostalisied mount gave him near perfect sustained fire accuracy. The rounds embedded into the metal frame and then exploded. Each of the rounds tore chunks of metal and wiring away, yet still the machines pushed onwards.
“Spartan?” shouted a familiar voice.
He fired a few more shots before spotting a dark shape rushing along the parapet towards him. His gut reaction was self-defence, and he swung out his left arm and activated the dual weapons. Luckily Khan grabbed the metal of his arm and pushed it up, so the rounds fired away harmlessly and avoided cutting the now visible shape of Teresa into a bloodied corpse.
“Watch your aim!” he growled and then joined the others on the firing line.
“Teresa?” replied Spartan in surprise. He’d hoped, even prayed she had been there, but it had never occurred to him he would find her so fast and in such a violent and dangerous situation. She leapt forward and landed just a metre away. They were both in armoured suits, and all she could do was open her visor and smile at him.
“I knew you’d come.”
Spartan nodded grimly.
“Yeah, our timing is always great, isn’t it? What’s happening?”
Teresa looked back to where she had been stood. The armoured shape of General Rivers and a handful of marines fired away into the enemy forces. Alongside them was the bullet-ridden form of an improvised Alliance flag. The General looked over and saw Khan and then Spartan below him. He turned and lifted his visor.
“About damned time you got here! Tell me you brought friends?”
As if in answer to his question, the two additional shuttles flew overhead. Each performed a quick circle while the now extended pintle mounted coilguns blazed away at the enemy machines. The nearest came in to land while the final shuttle performed a final strafing run before setting down in a space being hastily cleared by Navy crewmen.
“We have a ten-ship taskforce in orbit. Once the guns are down, we can have five companies on the ground. Gun is up there, and he’s itching to land.”
General Rivers clenched his fist with pleasure and jumped down from his fighting position to grasp the armoured fist of Spartan’s Vanguard armour. In his battered PDS armour, he looked half the size of Spartan.
“Dammed glad to see you again. Tell me everything.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The great battle for the Titan Naval Station has been considered one of the most audacious battles in the Corps’ history. Outnumbered and attacked on all sides, the men and women of the Marine Corps recaptured the heavily defended base in the middle of a bloody and costly space battle. It was the first great victory in the War but also provided a much-needed base from which to coordinate the war effort. The victories of the Proxima system, and the eventual fall of Terra Nova, could never have happened without this first heroic success.
Great Battles of the Confederate Marine Corps
Spartan and Teresa stood opposite General Rivers who was busy pulling up the detailed maps the scouts had formed in the last week. It had been weeks they’d been apart, prior to Spartan heading for Terra Nova. Even so, their personal lives came second right now with the sound of battle ever present on the hostile world of Hyperion. Since the arrival of the last two shuttles, the fighting had died down, but there were still sporadic bursts of gunfire. Captain Carlos emerged from the entrance. He stopped in front of the General and saluted.
“Sir, the enemy forces are withdrawing.”
General Rivers nodded grimly.
“Good, what about those machines?”
Captain Carlos shook his head.
“One is still in action. We damaged it. By all accounts it should be on the ground in pieces. It is leading the retreat. We calculate they must have around a hundred troops still left, and most of those must be injured.”
He turned to Spartan and reached out to shake his hand.
“So glad you arrived when you did. Your Jötnar Khan led a counter-assault at the breached wall. I’ve never seen one in action before. Sure changed my opinion of them, just wish we had a few more.”
Spartan nodded ever so slightly.
“Yeah, that’s usually the way. We have five companies up there, including Gun and a small force of Jötnar.”
“We need them down here, so what’s the plan General?”
General Rivers looked at the three of them and back to his maps for a few more seconds. He lifted his right hand and scratched his eyebrow as he thought. Spartan could see he was conflicted, and the frailty of their position was clear for all of them to see. Even when he had landed, the enemy were pressing the walls and had forced a number of breaches with heavy weapons. Another similar sized assault might succeed. If they attacked in greater numbers, it would be over...and fast. General Rivers understood this, and Spartan suspected this was where his reticence rested.
“You haven’t seen the intelligence Sergeant Morato and her team recovered. You don’t have time to study it, so I’ll give you the short version. From what we can ascertain, there is a structu
re here that has been in position for up to the last two hundred years. Apart from a large number of ruins, there are a series of power sources, each connected to a central hub that is heavily guarded.”
He handed Spartan a datapad containing a series of images of the site. It had been annotated by the engineers in the compound; along with estimated power signatures and enemy strength.
“Who are these people?” asked Spartan, pointing at the dark shapes around the structures.
“Workers, prisoners...maybe slaves. We don’t know, other than they are subservient to both the Zealots we can see and those machines. The central dome appears to be protected by magnetic shielding. At least that’s what the readings suggest.”
Spartan looked less than impressed with the information.
“Okay. But what is this site being used for? Apart from the danger of them attacking here, what is the time critical problem here?”
General Rivers brought up the images from the ruins that Teresa had returned.
“Recognise this?” he asked.
Spartan looked carefully at the images, each one showed an object or series of objects, some of which appeared very familiar. He stopped at the fourth one.
“The Spacebridge?”
General Rivers shrugged and showed him a shattered stone with what looked like a diagram; lines connected a number of circles. It meant nothing to him. He looked back to General Rivers and lifted his eyebrows.
“It’s a map, Captain. The Navy techs picked it up right away. It is partially damaged, but according to them, it marks a number of the planets in this star system, including Terra Nova, Proxima Prime and here.”
Spartan straightened up a little before speaking.
“I still don’t get it. We have a site full of Zealots and a number of machines that could easily be Biomech variants. Images and maps from the last few hundred years of our star systems, and a lot of people being forced to work on this dome location.”
Slaves of Hyperion (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 6) Page 21