Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Spartan, you idiot. What the hell are you doing!” he uttered to himself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Over the generations, there were many experiments with different calibres of ammunition. Combat statistics from every war in the last five hundred years had shown infantry combat took place at short to medium distances. More importantly, the side with greater firepower usually prevailed. In a world where the average marine could expect to be outnumbered, it was never a surprise each would carry the most powerful and adaptable weapon in the Confederate arsenal, the L48 rifle system. Available as a battle rifle, carbine and sniper rifle, it could even use a small calibre modification kit with a box magazine for suppressing fire and assault operations.

  Equipment of the Confederate Marine Corps

  The brig was one of the smaller parts of the ship and rarely contained anybody of note. In the last six months, less than two-dozen people had been locked away. In fact, for a short time the locked space had been used to store additional ammunition for the marine boarding parties. As Operation Perdition continued its inexorable progress towards clearing Proxima, the number of turncoats and traitors being found was increasing. Three days before a group of three traitors from the Santa Maria had attempted to sabotage the engines of the marine transport. After a short firefight with the marine guards, they had been apprehended and shipped to the Crusader. For now they were in the interrogations rooms leaving just two more people in the small and thoroughly depressing rooms.

  In one corner were two crewmen, and were both mortified that the Admiral of the fleet was present. It wasn’t just that she was in charge of the Navy, but that she was the supreme commander in the entire Proxima Sector. In the past, the Army, Navy and Marines had been Earth based with each branch of the military controlled by a separate person. So the Chief of the Army would have supreme authority of his troops, but not of the Navy or Marines. A committee or defence ministry usually controlled these heads. In this new world, however, things were very different. The main military forces in the Confederacy were the Navy and the Marine Corps, both of whom were under the command of Fleet Admiral Jarvis. The Army was planet bound and used as a backup to the faster and more flexible marine. This meant that the Admiral was the supreme military commander in the whole of Proxima Centauri. Only the President was placed higher, and he was away, probably on Terra Nova and impossible to reach.

  The nervous looking naval officers had committed nothing more than the usual naval crimes of being drunk and disorderly. They watched as she moved past them and along the corridor. They may have caused trouble, but that was not the reason for having a senior commander down below in the brig. As she continued along, they spotted her approaching the solitary confinement wing, an area reserved for the most dangerous or treacherous in the military. She stopped and looked through the triple-plated transparent plastic that covered the metal bars. Inside sat the traitorous brother of Tigris, the betrayer of the Confederate units on Prometheus. One of the heavily armed marine guards motioned for the Admiral to approach.

  “Sir, the prisoner has refused food or counsel.”

  The Admiral watched the man through the bars of the cell. He looked like any other Navy officer. She had seen dozens, probably hundreds, of Navy officers in her career, and by all accounts this man had a clean record. A quick glance at his file revealed a high quality officer with an almost perfect service record and excellent credentials. It was this that made her so confused and angry at the same time. How could a decorated, and experienced, officer turn on their own friends and comrades in times of war? It was a question that she applied to many serving crew and marines in this struggle. So many had already made the ultimate sacrifice, and those that casually threw away those bonds of friendship and loyalty was one of the problems that kept her up late at night.

  “Captain Leander, you know who I am?” she asked through the bars. The man looked at her, for a moment he stirred but then thought the better of it. He had been stripped of his uniform and wore prisoner overalls, something the Admiral had not seen for some time. There were marks on his hands and face, and she almost smiled for a second as she imagined the treatment he must have received from his comrades upon finding out his secrets. She quickly regretted it though. She was better than that. His face was taut, as though an electrical current was pulling at his muscles as he watched her. The expression betrayed bitterness, either towards her or his situation. She thought it must be the latter as the two of them had no issues prior to the one over his recent actions. There was nothing in his file that indicated otherwise. She moved closer to the bars and indicated for him to approach. He glared but refused to move.

  “I understand your brother was involved in an incident at an illegal camp and facility on Prometheus. He attempted to betray a Confederate General and many serving personnel to improve his own position. He died for his acts of sedition.”

  Captain Leander still said nothing although she was convinced there was just a hint of satisfaction, perhaps pride in what his brother had attempted. That was something she would not tolerate. As far as Admiral Jarvis was concerned, Tigris was a coward and a traitor to his own side.

  “Still, his violence actually helped the Confederacy. Just one wrong decision and he could have been a decorated hero, instead of just another Zealot sympathiser. You should know he died a pointless death, cut down by a loyalist Biomech. If there is any part of you left that loves the Confederacy, you should be proud that some of his actions were responsible for the safety and escape of thousands of prisoners. Without him, the General and hundreds of officers would have perished.”

  For a moment he almost spoke, his mouth opened, but with great effort he managed to stop. It was clear to Admiral Jarvis that he would not have to be pushed much harder to get information from him.

  “Thanks to Tigris, we now have thousands of loyal Biomechs who want nothing more than the chance to gain their revenge upon those who created them. In some ways, I wish I could thank your brother.”

  The young officer looked at her carefully. Deep down the Admiral knew she had crossed a line, but it looked like it may have worked as the young officer opened his mouth to say something.

  “My brother fought for Echidna. He died a hero.”

  He stopped, and perhaps realising he had just spoken when there had been no reason to say a word. Admiral Jarvis did her best to look dispassionate.

  “Really? That is not what the reports from the people he saved had to say. It is a tragedy he changed his allegiance when it counted. You do understand the penalty for treason in the Confederate Navy? Your brother saved us the time, but you on the other hand….”

  Captain Leander glared at her. He started to clench his fists and then tried to hide them when he noticed her watching his movement. The man was finding it hard to control himself, yet he desperately wanted to lash out.

  “Admiral, you don’t know what you’ve started. You think you’re winning? Do you really believe a handful of Biomechs you think are loyal will change anything? The Confederacy is weak, and it always was. It is time for the errors of the past to be rectified. Echidna and her children will rise, and Proxima will burn.”

  Admiral Jarvis shook her head before turning to the marine guards stationed a short distance away. His words confused her. The language he’d used reminded her of the historic speeches made during the Great War. It was well known back then that some of the fundamentalists from Carthago wanted to see Terra Nova burn. Still, that was a bit of a leap from an off the cuff comment.

  “Very well. As expected, the prisoner is refusing to co-operate. He will undergo interrogation by our intelligence personnel, so please secure him for transport to the interrogation rooms.”

  She then turned to face the Captain.

  “Your refusal to assist in our investigation has been noted in your record. Know now that our people are excellent at extracting information. When they have finished, we will speak again on what they have uncovered.”

 
She turned from the cell and walked away, accompanied by her guard unit. When she reached the corridor outside another party of four that included Sergeant Bishop met her. He was one of the marines Commander Anderson had sent from Prometheus. The group stood to attention and she responded appropriately.

  “Sergeant, you have something for me?”

  Bishop nodded but said no more.

  “Good, walk with me.”

  They moved off along the corridor, and the small group of marine guards walked behind them. Although they stayed close, they tried to be as discreet as possible. There had been multiple attempts to overrun civilian and military vessels, and all it took was a dedicated team to penetrate the engineering rooms or CiC. The kidnap of a senior officer could be just as useful to the enemy. As they walked, the Admiral thought back to the file on Captain Leander. He was obviously trying to hide details of the battle on the perimeter of the Prometheus waypoint. He had secrets, perhaps about people or ships, but they were secrets nonetheless. The threat of the children of Echidna concerned her slightly. It may have just been rhetoric, but it could be more. Did he mean they were creating something new, perhaps even worse than the Biomechs? Or were the Biomechs the children of Echidna? She shook her head and looked at Bishop.

  “Tell me about Prometheus, Sergeant. How is work progressing there?”

  He took a short breath before speaking and appeared slightly nervous. It wasn’t that unusual. The Admiral often had that effect on junior officers and NCOs.

  “The place has been transformed, Sir. Commander Anderson has brought large numbers of contractors to the compound and turned it into a research site and factory. Probably the best and most advanced in the whole of Proxima.”

  “Yes, I have seen the reports, very impressive. Three completed vessels already, and two are in service escorting the fleet. At this rate, we will be able to replace escort losses in three to four months. If only we could replace our marine casualties, this war would be over in weeks. What about the Biomechs? Have you come across any issues? Any indications they might not be what we think they are?”

  Bishop looked at her as he walked, slightly confused at the terminology.

  “You mean the Jötnar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the last of the cylinders have been used and all of them are now free. Most have been sent to the Yorkdale, but the Commander has retained a number on the base.”

  “Interesting. What for exactly?” she asked.

  “Security. Commander Gun left us a handful of his captains behind, and they have been working with Commander Anderson to beef up the security around the place. With most of the marines now gone, we have to use what we have. It is a valuable target for mercenaries, pirates and Union raiders.”

  “Of course. What is your assessment of the Jötnar?”

  “They are perfect, Sir, tough, strong, loyal and completely dependable. There have been several security situations on Prometheus, and every time they have proven their worth. I would happily go into combat with a platoon of them on my side. Hell, I doubt there isn’t an objective they couldn’t take, Sir.”

  He quickly realised he had dropped into informal speak and tried to retrace his steps before she could say anything else.

  “They are practicing with firearms and unit tactics under the supervision of our marines and are getting better everyday.”

  Admiral Jarvis looked surprised.

  “Really? I’ve not heard of any situations on Prometheus. What exactly has been happening?”

  “Well, here’s an example. Last week, there was a raid on one of the research labs by an armed gang from the space station. They landed in a stolen military shuttle and killed two guards in a violent attack. We thought it was a Union attack, but in the end it was nothing more than computer theft. They were removing the computer equipment when three of the Jötnar found them.”

  “What happened?”

  “They were given a warning which they broke. Five minutes later all of the gang were in the brig. A few had light injuries, but no deaths, and the equipment was returned.”

  “Fascinating. So they are learning discipline and control. I’m sure our political friends will be pleased to hear that.”

  They approached her private quarters. One of the guards opened the door and the two entered. Before either of them could move further, the door clunked behind them. It was made of thick, durable metal and capable of withstanding multiple projectile impacts or even a full loss of pressure. The Admiral beckoned for Sergeant Bishop to sit down in front of her small oak desk. As he lowered himself, she moved to the side of the room and poured two small glasses of port. She returned and placed them on the table. Bishop looked a little uncomfortable being entertained by the leader of all Confed military forces.

  “Sergeant. I understand you have important information for me from Commander Anderson. He has told me about your work together, and that you are a trusted go-between. How is he?” she asked before taking a sip from the glass.

  “He is very busy, Sir. The number of vessels visiting the base each day means we have hundreds of people coming and going, so security is very tight. He checks the logs of each himself. It isn’t an easy assignment.”

  Admiral Jarvis nodded to herself.

  “I can quite imagine. Still, of all the senior officers I know, he is the most trustworthy and studious in his role of commander. He has already told me about your work together prior to Prometheus. In fact, the Commander has sent me nothing but praise for the work of you, Kowalski and Sergeant Morato. It seems that since leaving the Crusader, you have all be gallivanting around Proxima having all sorts of adventures.”

  Bishop felt nervous and also a little apprehensive at what was to follow. For a moment, he thought there might be some kind of reprimand in order.

  “I must therefore assume that the information you have brought to me personally is of the utmost importance. Am I correct?”

  Bishop nodded in agreement.

  “Good. Tell me then. What has he found?”

  Bishop pulled out his datapad and placed it on the desk. He turned it over and struck the lower section of the unit. A small slither of plastic slipped off to reveal a compartment. Nothing obvious was revealed until Bishop pulled out a small tool from inside his jacket.

  “Anderson really isn’t taking chances on this is he? Have you seen the data?”

  With a click, a small metal disk extended about the size of Bishop’s small finger.

  “No, Sir. The Commander gave me this and told me I had to destroy it unless I was able to give you the data personally.”

  “Why so long? You’ve been with the fleet now for several weeks.”

  “Yes, Sir. We had to collect some additional data from the Yorkdale before coming here.”

  He leaned forward and handed the datacard to the Admiral. She turned and pulled out a spare datapad from the drawer in her desk.

  “Is that a secure unit?” asked Bishop.

  “Of course, this unit has had its data connections severed.”

  Pressing a small section on the side revealed the standard dataport for cards and secure encryption keys. Wireless technology had been the norm for centuries, but with this kind of data a hardware link was always the safest method of transfer.

  The screen flashed green and displayed a series of images, graphs and data. As Admiral Jarvis skimmed through, she spoke quietly.

  “What about the Yorkdale? Do they have a copy of this?”

  “No, Sir. I had strict instructions to speak with Commander Gun before revealing this.”

  She stopped for a moment and looked up.

  “You checked with the Jötnar before coming to me?” she demanded, her face starting to tighten with either anger or surprise. Bishop wasn’t sure which.

  “Yes, Sir. My orders were very strict, Sir. He said it was of importance to their race, and it would be disingenuous to hide it from them.”

  Admiral Jarvis looked back down and continued reading
the data. The first section was addressed specifically to her and contained the summary of Commander Anderson’s intelligence on the Biomech programming. At first it appeared dull and overly scientific until she reached the third paragraph. The words ‘program termination’ caught her eye. She read further.

  According to the data, the Biomechs had all received accelerated basic development with regards to muscle, bone and intelligence. None of this was news until she came to the part of training and re-education. The scientists reported that the computers and equipment on Prometheus were required to send a series of codes to manage and handle their Biomechs. One of the injured, but still living Biomechs, had been found with the ability to receive updates from the compounds data system each day. Admiral Jarvis looked up at Bishop.

  “You have seen none of this? What about Commander Gun or his comrades?”

  “Commander Gun has seen this same data. He said it didn’t matter to him.”

  “Really? That’s interesting. Was there anything else?”

  “No, Sir, other than Commander Anderson would like to speak with you on a secure line once you have read and checked the datacard.”

  She nodded, but her eyes remaining glued to the pages of text. The more she read, the more she was surprised at what she found.

  “Very good, Sergeant. That will be all.”

  “Sir.”

  He saluted and made for the door. As he approached, it hissed open to reveal the corridor and her ever-present marine guards. Displaying utmost professionalism, they stayed completely still, but she knew they were able to watch from inside their helmets. With a nod, they closed the door, and she returned to her desk and the datacard that was still connected. She sat down, took a short sip from her glass and continued reading. She paused for a brief moment then from her standard issue datapad, sent a signal to the Naval Intelligence unit on board the Crusader. She wanted experts to have a good look at the data. Once finished, she looked back at the screen.

  The graphs and statistics showed that the Biomechs had been programmed with additional layers of knowledge and motivation. All contained the basic level of problem solving, motor functions and the like. The second and third layers were temporary and specifically to do with combat and strategy. The first two layers were permanent and nothing could remove them once installed. The third and most superficial layer was used for direct orders, control, strategy and tactics. Though it wasn’t confirmed, it was the opinion of all but three of the senior researchers that this was how the Union forces were able to control the Biomechs. A daily update was transmitted to their forces that continued or modified the third layer of programming. It was short term, and if interrupted for more than a day the Biomechs would revert to the first two stages. Commander Anderson considered it a failsafe in case the masters lost the ability to control them. They would then cease their current operation in less than a day.