A marine stepped out from the side and handed Spartan a datapad. The information displayed was about the position of the rest of the ships and their ETA with the Yorkdale. He nodded to the man and turned back to the assembled crowd.
“We have received new orders from General Rivers and Admiral Jarvis for a special mission. This isn’t just another boarding action or planetary assault. This mission is critical to the war and has a strict time limit. The Admiral suggests this one action could win or lose the war for all of us.”
Spartan waited for a moment to let the news settle in with the marines and Jötnar.
“We will be joining a small taskforce of warships and set course for the Anomaly. As I speak, the Furious Battlegroup is fighting a desperate last stand in the clouds and storms. They are massively outnumbered and need our help.”
He pointed to a two-dimensional projection on one of the walls. Unlike the warships, they lacked the conference and tactical mapping hardware common on warships from frigates upwards. The image showed the Anomaly as well as scores of dotted lines heading towards it.
“These lines are the projected paths of nearly seventy Union ships making their way to the Anomaly. There’s a mixture of transports, supply ships and warships, and each of them is heading to this point at maximum speed.”
There was an audible gasp from the marines and human crew present, but the Jötnar appeared to be less than impressed at the news.
“Our taskforce is due to arrive at the location just hours before the vanguard of their forces. We will strike hard and assist the Furious and her surviving ships in destroying the enemy presence and then create a defensive position around the entrance of the tunnel. We are already carrying heavy engineering equipment and have a lot of partially installed weapons and gear. There are sections from an abandoned station at the target. Upon completion of the operation, we will board this station and establish a supply base and a series of weapons platforms.”
The hall was silent and Spartan turned to Gun, for he had no idea why the group appeared so muted.
“Tell them about the enemy,” said Gun, trying his best to help.
Spartan nodded, instantly understanding what he was saying.
“The clouds and storms around the Spacebridge make visibility almost nil. The only reason we have any intelligence at all, is due to a fighter taking a massive risk and leaving the safety of the clouds to bounce the signal to us back here. The good news is that this will also interfere with missile systems and computers. We will be conducting close ranged gunfights with the enemy ships. Fighting up close and dirty is what we do best.”
There was still a stony silence. Spartan looked at the group and could sense the hunger in the eyes of the Jötnar. They were like a crowd of children waiting to be told about an exciting day out, or that they would be seeing something new or unusual. Though more mature than children, they lacked the experiences a normal adult would expect to have found at their age. He nodded, now knowing what they wanted to know.
“This won’t be a day for fancy ship battles. The gas clouds cut the range of combat down to just a few hundred metres. We’ve all seen what our assault troops can do in battle. The Vanguards have fought in space, on the ground and under it. The Jötnar have done the same. Your troops have even managed to successfully board a major warship and taken control of it. This is where you will all come in. Our advantage comes in close quarter combat. We will need to board and take the enemy vessels by force. I expect our combined assault units to cripple or capture as many enemy warships as possible. Forget about us losing ships in this battle. I expect at the end of it we will control more ships than we started with! This will be your toughest and most violent battle yet!”
A great howl of excitement erupted through the hall as scores of Jötnar started waving their arms and shouting with excitement. Spartan looked to Gun who was waving his right arm in the air as well.
“Better,” he said quietly.
“We are due to rendezvous with the rest of the taskforce in twelve hours. Once we have met, we will make final course changes and then move on full burn to the target. Check your gear and continue with your training. This may very well be the most important battle of the war, one that will help restore the Confederacy and destroy the Zealots and their masters, once and for all. Move to your lockdown position and listen to the countdown.”
A final roar of excitement rumbled through the halls as the pleasure of the Jötnar spread. After a few seconds of shouting and banging of fists, the warriors moved to their various positions on the ship where they could strap in. Spartan stepped back and Gun grabbed his arm.
“Good speech, Spartan. You ready for battle?”
“Always, my friend.”
“Teresa, and child?”
“They are fine, she is in the gymnasium right now.”
“Good.”
The hall was now over half empty. Just a few marines and crew were fitting into straps in the small number of alcoves and bulkhead seating in that part of the ship. Spartan looked at Gun who as usual appeared nonplussed about the entire affair.
“Come on you fool, unless you want to be blasted through the ship, we need to get strapped in. You know what this thing is like when she fires up the engines, don’t you?”
Gun shrugged and followed behind Spartan as he made his way to the far side of the hall. As they approached the nearest bulkhead, Spartan glanced back over his shoulder to the previously packed hall. He thought of the hundreds of warriors that had been stood there, and for a brief moment he had a vision of them all dead. With a shake, he threw off the thought. They’d been through worse. At least, that is what he consoled himself with.
* * *
The room lit up with the dark red glow of the emergency light. Misaki was a light sleeper, and just this one change woke her as though she had been experiencing the most terrifying of nightmares. She lay there, completely still and gazed at the nearest glow. She almost started to doze before a series of massive vibrations shook her hard. Several fittings on the wall rattled, and a picture fell down and shattered.
“What the hell?” she cried.
The room’s built-in tannoy loudspeaker system activated.
“Action stations! This is not a drill. Union frigates approaching, all hands to your stations.”
Misaki lifted herself from her bunk at the shrill voice blasting through the hull of the military transport. More vibrations shook the room, and a dull thumping sound started to spread down the hall.
“What’s going on now?” she grumbled.
Next to her, the shape of a half-clothed crewman rolled over and nearly fell from the bunk. It was only the young man’s waking reactions that made him grab the rail before he fell the two metres to the ground. He lowered himself to the floor and looked up at her. Before he could speak, the internal speakers blasted again.
“This is the XO. Storage sections one through seven have been boarded. I repeat. Biomechs have breached the habitation level. All crew prepare to repel boarders!”
“Boarders? Are they kidding?” asked the crewman.
Misaki jumped down from the bunk in just her white underwear and pulled on a pair of loose fitting green overalls. He watched her as if mesmerised. The sight of her almost naked body proving to be more of a distraction than whatever else was happening on the ship. She reached out and grabbed a Navy issue thermal shotgun from the weapons locker and slammed in a full magazine.
“Uh, what are you doing?” he asked.
She looked over to him and noticed he was watching her. More specifically, he seemed to be looking at her chest. He stood there, undressed and doing nothing at all other than gawping.
“Grow a pair, Davis, we’re being boarded! I appreciate you like what you see, and if we’re alive in the next hour, you can have another look. Got that?”
He nodded and then her words must have finally sunk in.
“I...I thought we were avoiding the front lines. We’re only carrying supp
lies for the war effort. There shouldn’t be any Biomechs around here.”
Misaki shook her head in annoyance.
“What front line? The war is everywhere. What does it matter anyway? Whatever the reason is, they are here, and they’re on our ship. Now get some pants on and come with me. We have work to do!”
The young man grabbed his clothes, but before he could reach for his shoes, she thrust a pistol into his hands. It was a standard issue military sidearm. He took it from her as though it was a firecracker waiting to blow off his hand.
“I...I don’t...” he started.
“No time, Davis. Talk to the Biomechs if you like, but in my experience they prefer pulling off your head to talking. Cock the pistol, let’s go!”
She pushed open the door to reveal the dimly lit access corridor that ran the length of that part of the transport ship. There were seven similar parts to the ship, and they provided access to all the main compartments and storage areas. If it had been a military vessel, it would have been split up into secure areas. This ship was just a commercial transport, so the only change was a lick of paint and a few weapons and targeting equipment. She looked back to Davis, and glad to see he was at least holding the pistol correctly and waiting for her words. She lifted her hand to her mouth, indicating for him to stay quiet, and then pushed the door.
“Come on,” she whispered.
As the door creaked open, she could hear the dull crack of weapons fire as well as shouting. She looked back at Davis.
“We need to get to the engine room. That’s where they will hit first.”
“Huh,” came the dulled response, “how do you know that?”
Misaki looked at him in pity. Davis may have the body of a marine, but his intellect was less than some of the Biomechs she had met. She sighed. He would do for now.
“Because that is where I would go. Take out the powerplant and you cut artificial gravity, weapons and engines. We’d be easy to take over then and would have no way of escaping any pursuing vessels.”
She looked along the corridor before stepping out into the cold, empty space. She shook her head as she walked, evidently angry about something.
“This isn’t good. I told Anderson I didn’t need to come with the gear. Kowalski can use it all just fine. Now I’m stuck on this barge with nothing but a thermal shotgun.”
Davis appeared behind her in his combat pants, but his chest and feet were bare. Misaki glanced at him and said nothing, simply indicating with her hand for him to follow her. They moved down the corridor, both with weapons drawn and looking for signs of trouble. Two thirds of the way down the section the lights were out, and a series of sparks flew from the wall to the right.
“What’s that?” asked Davis.
“No idea, just stay close.”
A loud crashing sound came from behind. Misako spun around to see a piece of metal, roughly two metres in diameter, blast away from the wall and crash into the other side. A subtle change in air pressure instantly let her know something was coming from another part of the ship. A cloud of steam blasted through the breach and was followed by a man in robes. Misaki watched in surprise as he jumped into the corridor. Another two followed him. Their robes covered them well, but she could just make out some kind of armour beneath them.
“Look!” cried Davis.
The men heard his voice and lifted their rifles towards him. There were no questions, and no attempt at a dialogue. In less than a second, all three were firing and sending dozens of rounds down the corridor. Misaki threw herself to the side and behind the narrow bulkhead that barely covered her diminutive frame. Davis, on the other hand, stood no chance. Round after round smashed into his torso and head, sending blood back metres. He staggered and collapsed to the ground. She lifted her shotgun and leaned around the corner.
“Bastards!” she screamed and let off four rounds from the shotgun. Two missed, but the second two managed to strike the nearest. He roared, but whether in anger or pain, she couldn’t tell. It stayed upright and lifted its arm and pointed at her. She tried to see what it was before something snapped her arm back and pinned her to the bulkhead. She looked to her right to see a long metal barb embedded in her flesh. It looked like a crossbow bolt or spear. Her shotgun lay on the ground out of reach and leaving her hanging there impotently.
More noise came from the other end of the corridor, and she turned just in time to see another chunk of metal blast apart, but this time it was almost double the size of the previous one. As the metal dropped down, a large, dark shape emerged through the hole. It hit the ground and straightened itself, almost completely filling the space with its three metre tall frame.
“Biomechs!” she muttered to herself.
The heavy clunk of the creatures walking along the corridor brought back memories of the terrible violence back on Prometheus. She had been a prisoner like thousands of others there, and the Biomechs had been used for security. She had even seen the harvesting areas where human organs and body parts were harvested to create some of the monsters. Anderson told her the most recent models were synthetic, but she knew full well that the smaller and more primitive ones still used human parts.
“You!” snarled one of the men in robes.
She stared at him, wanting to lift her shotgun, but she knew if she did so it would mean her death. The man pulled on his robe to reveal his face. He was young, probably in his thirties but with a scar down one side.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The man looked at her for a few more seconds and then reached out and grabbed the metal bolt. He grasped it firmly and ripped it from her flesh. She stumbled forward in front of him but managed to steady herself, even though the shock of the injury had almost caused her to faint. He then turned to the Biomech next to him. He nodded, and in a flash of speed and power, the creature struck her in the side of the head. She dropped to the ground as if dead.
“You know her?” asked another of the robed warriors.
“No, but she’s on our list. Look,” he said as he lifted a battered and only partially functioning military datapad.
“She is one of their data experts. Typhon will be pleased.”
“Yes, he will be,” replied the man.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The mechanical mules of the Confederate Marine Corps are one of many robotic warriors used since the Great War. Four legged and equipped with autonomous reasoning, independent power system and advanced weapons, they were the first capable military robots. Though used as a fire support unit, there were many that feared the day they might be used as an alternative to the living.
History of Slave Labour
The space battle along the trade route to Prometheus had begun. The small fleet of Confederate transports and their escorts circled amongst the enemy ships like a swarm of World War 1 fighters. Each vessel manoeuvred to fire its guns at the optimum position, and streaks of gunfire ripped through the cold vacuum of space to tear chunks of metal from each craft. The larger craft attempted to concentrate on the capital ships, and the smaller ships and fighters did their best to avoid the big guns. Tracking speed and optimum firing distance were serious issues for the primary weapons, and each pilot did their best to avoid damage.
“Look,” said the pilot as he pointed over to the group of transports. “The heavy transports must be their main target.”
“Makes sense, there are at least three assault landing craft attached to the hull of each ship. If it were me, I would eliminate the crew and take control of the ship,” said the co-pilot.
Spartan stood behind them and leaned inside the small cockpit. He watched the view through the projected windscreen.
“Why bother to secure the ships? The longer they wait, the more time they give us to bring in reinforcements. This looks like a hit and run attack to me. We need to be fast,” he said seriously.
“I think you’re right. The last mayday we received indicated the force was led by a single heavily armed capital ship. The detail
s matched the vessel used by Typhon during the battle of Euryale, well, apart from one thing.”
“Which is?” asked Spartan.
“This ship has a dark red paint scheme. It is all over the ship, and we’ve seen nothing like it before. Our sensors cannot penetrate the surface, so it could be a reflective material or maybe an energy absorbent device.”
“Like a stealth covering of some kind?”
“We’ve used similar technology on vessels before. The trouble is, in space it is very, very hard to mask a thermal signature. Against the coldness of space, even a slightly warm object is easy to detect.”
“What about electronic jamming? Could this be to stop our sensors penetrating their hulls?” he continued.
“I doubt it. I’m already picking up a number of readings from them.”
A streak of projectiles blasted past just metres away from the shuttle, and something crashed against the hull.
“Incoming fire! Brace for impact!” shouted the pilot.
Inside his thickly armoured Vanguard suit, Spartan could still feel the impact as the vessel fired its retro-boosters to blast away from incoming fire. He breathed hard, instantly noticing the change in g-forces. It was as if he was inside an accelerating rocket blasting up through the atmosphere. Thankfully, the built-in pressure suit system was able to take most of the strain out of his body, but it was still violent.
“Hey, look at that!” said one of his marines pointing to the left of the shuttle.
Spartan twisted his head but still couldn’t see from where he waited. He tapped a button that brought up the video feeds on the outside of the shuttle. Inside his suit, a number of small images popped up from each camera unit. A glance from his retina was all it took to select one and to enlarge it on the display unit. He could barely make out the dark hulk of the Confederate transport they approached, but that was not what the marine had been pointing at. He moved his eye over to another image, and it quickly changed to the new feed.
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 38