Star Crusades Nexus: Book 06 - Call to Arms

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Star Crusades Nexus: Book 06 - Call to Arms Page 11

by Michael G. Thomas

“This is a museum ship. It must be related to that.”

  Khan spent even less time than Spartan looking at the device and handed it back. Spartan placed it inside a velvet-lined case sitting on the floor at the side of the room.

  “For such a famous ship, I thought there would be more here.”

  Spartan agreed with him and walked about the room, examining trinkets and small artifacts as he moved about. One cabinet was filled with nearly a dozen small models, each one the size of a man’s hand. Spartan opened the door at the bottom and took out one. Khan watched him as he placed the object in his hand.

  “Fascinating,” said Spartan.

  Khan walked over and looked at the object. It was rectangular in shape but with a narrow, slightly lifted front. The rear was raised, and three tall poles jutted out from the top. Thin wires ran down to join with the rest of the structure. It was only then that Spartan spotted the name inscribed on its side.

  “HMS Dauntless, 1804,” he said quietly.

  Khan was intrigued and opened another door and pulled out a similar model. It was painted gray, and much of it had chipped off to expose the metal underneath. This one was much sleeker and lacked the wires and details of the other. There was a small, slightly rounded turret, with what looked like a gun pushing out of it.

  “Dauntless, 2010,” he said to himself but loud enough that Spartan could hear him.

  “I see. These are old Earth warships with the same name. That one is from 2010, and the other one is nearly two hundred years older. This is from a time when warships traveled across water and fought each other.”

  “Have you ever seen one?” Khan asked.

  Spartan looked for somewhere to sit, but there was nothing other than old relics and boxes. He’d already caused enough damage so decided to stay upright instead.

  “What, a ship?”

  Khan nodded.

  “Well, there was a replica of a wooden ship on Terra Nova. I’ve not seen it, but there are video streams of the thing. It is very similar to that model, the one with the wires.”

  Satisfied that they had now explored this small part of the ship, Spartan had Khan moved back into the main passageway. They had examined the entirety of Dauntless almost four times now. If either of them had an interest in old ships, they hid it well during the long walks. Even the ship’s Captain, a curt, slightly angry looking man called Thomas Cobb, had grown bored of their investigations. He was a sprightly old man with a thin layer of white hair, as well as a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Spartan had found it best to avoid him when he could.

  “Well, what do you think of him then?” Khan asked.

  As Spartan moved through the ship, he had been looking at more than just the shape, design, and condition. He’d been using the long days of travel to loosen up his limbs and to assess the rest of those on board. Captain Cobb was something of a mystery to him. He was old enough for senior command, yet had been put in charge of an ancient museum craft. They had just left the Captain to deal with a routine thruster problem with his crew and were busy making their way to the appropriately named mission bay.

  “Cobb?”

  Spartan tried not to laugh when his friend knocked his head on the low level bulkheads for what must have been the tenth time that day.

  Khan nodded.

  “Well, for a man in his mid sixties, he is in surprisingly good shape.”

  It was true; the man had looked after himself, either through personal effort or substantial amounts of money. He was average height, but his arms and torso betrayed a level of fitness that would have impressed even a Marine Corps physical training instructor.

  “Well, he’s a tight ass for a start. I don’t think he was particularly impressed with your little speech about the merits of Jötnar infantry.”

  Khan smiled, and this time managed to avoid cracking his head on a bulkhead. He ducked down and then pushed on down the narrow passageway. The metallic wall on the left dripped with condensation, and there were marks of corrosion in places, none of which inspired much confidence in the two of them.

  “Maybe he could spend some of that energy getting this ship ready for combat. This thing is a disgrace.”

  They finally reached a wide-open access point that led into the mission bay. This section was more frequently used, and at least part of it had been cleaned up for the mission. Even so, it looked far from what either of them was used to. They both went inside and stopped to see what progress, if any, was being made by the hastily assembled troops.

  “Spartan,” Captain Cobb called out from across the bay.

  Khan bowed his head a little in the direction of the man.

  “Looks like the Captain wants to play…again.”

  Spartan did his best to hide his amusement and walked over to him, carefully avoiding the groups of men who were busy going through their drills. Unlike the Marine Corps, this unit was entirely male, and not one of them had shown even the slightest bit of interest in Spartan or Khan. Once past them, he moved to the space between two of the assault shuttles where a table had been put up and a number of weapons and pieces of equipment laid out. Spartan stopped in front and looked down at the gear.

  “Interesting selection.”

  The Captain waited behind the table and looked singularly unimpressed with his comments.

  “Interesting? These weapons are the best equipment Earthsec has to offer.”

  Khan moved alongside Spartan and scooped up one of the rifles. It looked like any other small arm, but with the magazine inserted behind the trigger and under the stock. It kept the weapon short, but it looked strange to him. He turned to Spartan and held it out to him.

  “Why?”

  Spartan coughed and did his best to hide the smile on his face.

  “It’s, uh, a Bullpup, I believe?”

  Captain Cobb nodded.

  “That’s right. Short, compact and ideally suited for close ranged firefights.”

  Khan wasn’t particularly inspired by its diminutive size, placed it back down, and picked up one of the magazines. He was amazed upon seeing the column of projectiles fitted inside, all of them pushed up by a kind of spring, presumably at the base of the magazine.

  “What is this?”

  Spartan took it and withdrew one of the bullets from the magazine. The shape was odd, nothing more than a rectangular block that felt like a kind of resin or wax in his hand.

  “Uh, I have no idea, old friend.”

  “This, Gentlemen, is one of Earth’s most advanced exports, the TEK-40 tactical weapon. The small size hides an electronic firing system with state-of-the-art 6mm caseless ammunition and a rate of fire in excess of fourteen hundred rounds a minute.”

  Khan lifted just one eyebrow at the figures, but Spartan said nothing.

  “The TEK-40 has been exported to the security forces on Mars, Lunar, and a dozen stations throughout Sol.”

  Spartan lifted the weapon to his shoulder and aimed it at the wall of the mission bay. He intentionally kept the magazine well away from the weapon, and as soon as he spotted an operative moving into his line of sight, he lowered the gun and examined it even more carefully.

  “It looks well made, Captain Cobb. I’m not sure it will be enough to deal with the enemy though.”

  The commander of the Earthsec operatives looked unimpressed at his words.

  “Spartan, your account of these machines and their capabilities has been examined in detail, and we are confident our training and equipment will be more than adequate to deal with them.”

  Khan lifted the weapon once more and then cast it down on the table.

  “No, this will not work. Small caliber, conventional weaponry is not the solution.”

  Spartan noticed a vein on the Captain’s neck started to pulse.

  Good work, Khan.

  “Enough!” grumbled the man. “We will be at Mars in less than forty-eight hours. I suggest you check your own equipment and review the layout for the base.”

  Spartan loo
ked to Khan and again at the Captain.

  “What? You want us to leave? We only just got here.”

  The room fell silent, and Spartan glanced quickly into the centre of the mission bay. All of the soldiers had stopped whatever they were doing and had turned their attention to the noisy disagreement.

  Here it comes.

  Spartan knew only too well that the Captain would now have to do something or risk looking impotent in front of his men.

  “I don’t care what you two did in a previous life. Out here you’re just a pair of old men with a knack for getting into trouble. My boys are more than capable of doing this job.”

  Khan began to move, but Spartan placed his hand on his friend’s arm.

  “No, not today,” he said in a whisper.

  The Captain looked back to his men.

  “Let’s run over the landing and dispersal drill again. On your markers!”

  As the men ran about to the pre-arranged positions, the Captain turned his head sharply toward them.

  “I need your experience on the operation, but I don’t need you. That’s why both of you will be staying in orbit during this mission.”

  Spartan looked at him and grinned, much to the man’s annoyance.

  “That’s no problem, Captain. When your boys get whipped, just remember to give us a call.”

  * * *

  The barrack structure on Prometheus was one of a dozen similar locations spread throughout the base. Multiple rooms were attached to the central area, with sleeping quarters and weapons lockers fitted at regular intervals. In the center of the main room was a line of PDS Alpha armor suits, each one fitted around a metal frame for quick access. Only a handful remained in the barracks as Teresa moved out through the door and into the wide passageway.

  “Watch your feet!” shouted a worker from his position on top of a tracked vehicle.

  Teresa stepped to the side as the yellow vehicle trundled past her. It was a similar size to the military Bulldog vehicles but was fitted with hardened rubber tracks and a digger blade to the front. Red lights on the front and back flashed as it moved quickly and then twisted about, making its way along one of the many long passageways. Behind it ran a group of six Jötnar, all of them in their dark red armor. They carried massive rifles the size of the gun fitted to an armored personnel carrier. Teresa checked the status indicators inside her PDS armor and then activated the communication network to the rest of the Alliance forces. The digital network expanded out to nearby combat units and permeated throughout the entire base in less than fifteen seconds.

  Good, we’re ready.

  She passed small squads of marines as they grabbed their gear and then headed for their pre-selected zones, all without any intervention by her. That was the simplicity and what she hoped could be the strength of the defense, its ability to operate fluidly and independently of central command. One thing Teresa had learned over the years was that a rigid chain of command led to inaction, especially in the heat of combat. For this fight, the junior officers would command the battle, not her. Teresa reached the wide-open central plaza at the heart of the underground facility at the same time as Olik. Marines and crew ran to and fro, but she was pleased to see they all moved with a purpose. There was no sense of panic, just of urgency and professionalism. Two squads of marines waited in two rows; all standing to attention and with their carbines at their shoulders.

  So it begins.

  Captain Rivers appeared from one of the massive doorways to the right that led down into one of the many tendrils extending out to hangars and barrack buildings. Teresa had often likened the place to something reminiscent of an octopus.

  “Colonel,” he called out as he moved at a fast jog. A single fireteam of marines ran with him, and they and stopped when making it as far as Olik.

  “All units are in position, Captain. It’s just our reserve that remains here.”

  Teresa already had her secpad out and was busy examining the spider shaped layout of the base. There were eight long legs that extended out in a star shape and ran deep into the rock of Prometheus. All of them were equipped with multiple entry points and hangar doors leading to the surface.

  “They are getting close.”

  She looked to her officers and stopped upon seeing the Jötnar.

  “Olik, your people, are they ready?”

  In the distance, she could see the shapes of an entire platoon of heavily armed and armored Jötnar coming toward them. Olik looked in their direction and then to her.

  “We are more than ready. We are itching for some action. I have my platoon here at the center and another squad positioned two hundred meters back from each entrance.”

  “Good.”

  The Jötnar wore the same armor as the Red Watch on the rest of the planet, much to Teresa’s amusement. It allowed them a full degree of movement, yet still offered their large size a fully protected and sealed environment with modest ballistic protection.

  “Very pretty,” she said with a smile.

  Olik looked at his comrades and then to her.

  “We’d rather use our own armor from Hyperion, but this equipment is smaller and better suited for combat in a cramped station. Plus, we have our new guns.”

  Teresa had wondered what exactly the Jötnar were carrying. Unlike the normal equipment, they all held large firearms, each around the size of a marine and much too big to be carried by anybody other than a Jötnar warrior. The body was short and extended into a ring of five snug barrels. A pair of thick ammunition feeds ran from the gun and around the flanks of each of them to a large backpack unit built into the rear of their armor.

  “Okay, Olik, what the hell are those things?”

  Olik feigned insult.

  “What, these things?” he asked, holding up his weapon.

  Teresa grinned.

  “Well, the reports from Helios confirmed the use of these new guns for use in the Jötnar units and heavy marine battalions. Gun himself recommended them in his after action report.”

  Of course he did.

  Teresa was hardly surprised. As she looked at the weapon, she noted the profile matched the primary weapon mount fitted on some of the Bulldog vehicles. From memory, it was an L56 Mark III weapon, one of the newest pieces of equipment being fitted to frontline vehicles. Teresa looked away but then spotted two of the Jötnar were carrying an even more ridiculous looking weapon. This time it was a single barreled device, but much longer and fitted with four pairs of thick power cables that attached somewhere on the back of the armor.

  “And that?”

  Now Olik did look a little sheepish.

  “We’re testing these; they’re the latest model 60mm railgun from the Bulldogs.”

  One of the other Jötnar pointed the weapon up in the air.

  “Perfect for materiel destruction!””

  He was evidently very pleased with his new toy, and Teresa found it almost impossible for her to disguise her amusement, so she looked around at the vast open passageways that were big enough to fly a Mauler through. Cramped was hardly the word she would have used to describe it.

  “They’re here!” called out a man in a gray pair of overalls. He was off to the right.

  Teresa glanced at him and then to her motley group of warriors.

  “You know the plan, people. We’re the reserve, now let’s get to that machine!”

  She’d only made it a few meters when Olik blocked her path.

  “Excuse me, Sir, but shouldn’t we be putting you in a secure location?”

  Teresa shook her head and nodded in the direction of their objective.

  “No, Olik. You know the Moratos. We’re not the kind of people who stay at the rear and direct the battle. The Commander of the battalion will conduct the perimeter defense. You and I will ensure that if any stragglers make it through, they will be stopped.”

  She pointed off in into the distance.

  “This central hub is the key to the station. None can make it through t
o the ship. Understood?”

  An approving chorus of acknowledgements met Teresa.

  "Good, then let's do this. I want to see a win for a change!"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The establishment of the Red Watch, the aptly named Heavy Marine Corps Battalion, was the first official Alliance unit to emphasize the strengths and benefits of the Jötnar in combat units. This elite unit combined not only the brute strength and aggression of the Jötnar, but also combined them with the best modern armor and weaponry in the Corps. By modifying existing vehicle mounted weapons, a whole new arsenal of close and long-ranged weapons would be used to equip this new force. In the Great Uprising, the Marine Corps had relied upon men and women with small arms to win wars. Now the Corps would feature the same as well as Vanguards and Jötnar in almost equal numbers.

  Equipment of the Alliance Marine Corps

  The central hub was as large as a city plaza and based around a series of colonnade structures that were primarily there to function as ceiling supports. The middle was a sunken hexagonal area that could easily have been a pool. Instead, its perimeter had been enhanced with low walls and precut positions for the heavy weapons that were now fitted throughout. When she’d been sitting there earlier, her mind had been elsewhere, but now she knew the exact configuration based on the blueprints shown to her by the Admiral and Commander Osk. The defenses were impressive, made more so but her insistence that as many heavy weapons were installed as could be found.

  “No, I will stay with you and the main reserve in this central plaza. This is the key battleground, and the Biomechs will know this. Don’t forget, it was through their planning that Prometheus was mined and developed to start with.”

  He bowed his head slightly, the classic sign of respect amongst the Jötnar.

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  His words reminded her of Gun, and she felt a pang of loss that her old friend wasn’t going to be around for this battle.

  “We have at least an hour before we can expect any kind of effective ground assault. We will use that time to reinforce our defenses further.”

 

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