“Why did you run, marine?”
The young man looked to one of his comrades but said nothing.
“Marine?” demanded Spartan.
“I...uh...I just ran, Sir.”
“You are a marine, aren’t you? Marines don’t run. We stand and fight.”
He turned to the rest of the marines.
“Don’t we?”
A few at the front muttered in agreement, but most said nothing.
“Now, answer the Captain’s question.”
“We were talking about the best close quarter weapons we have access to.”
“I see, and what was the conclusion?”
“We didn’t get that far, Sir. Most think the bayonet, but some of the reports from the Vanguards showed other weapons being used.”
“This is true. We did use a great variety of equipment before we were shipped out to the Yorkdale. In the end though, it is the marine, not the weapon. You should know this.”
A chorus of agreement met him as the tension started to fade.
“Captain?” asked a young marine, barely in his twenties.
Khan swivelled to look at him. He stepped forward, his vast bulk making him look like a child.
“What weapons do you prefer?”
Khan looked to Spartan and then back at the marine, his smile obvious to all.
“Anything with edge. I like this one...”
He reached down to the bandolier slung across his body and pulled out what looked like a one-metre long rod. He held it in front of him and twisted the base. From the top, two large blades sprung out. Each was the size of a man’s fist and razor sharp.
“Wow, an axe?” asked the marine.
Khan nodded with enjoyment.
“Fast and powerful...just like me!” he growled.
The marines started laughing, partially in amusement, and also in relief. As the group continued talking, Spartan turned around and moved through the doorway.
He stepped inside the marine canteen to find Teresa, Bishop, Misaki and Kowalski sat at a table in a heated debate. The table was halfway along the left wall and near a large colour painting of some twentieth century battle. Spartan hadn’t noticed it before, and he was intrigued by the imagery of hundreds of soldiers charging a hill with bayoneted rifles. They looked surprisingly similar to the L48 rifles they now used. The only real difference was that these warriors made use no of armour, other than simple metal helmets on their heads. It was an image of a war hundreds of years ago, yet it could easily have been Prime or Kerberos. It reminded him of something one of the instructors had told him about combat. ‘Nothing changes. We just find new ways to do the same jobs.’ At the time he wasn’t sure what the man had meant, but looking at this painting it was becoming all too familiar. He turned and continued on to the table and his group of friends. The rest of the canteen area was surprisingly full, and it was clear a good number were recovering from their ordeals. Spartan counted at least a dozen personnel with bandages or casts on their limbs.
At his side were Sergeant Lovett, Khan and Gun. He moved to the table and almost reached it before Kowalski spotted him. He gave a nod and Teresa twisted around to find them walking towards her. Spartan was a big man but compared to the two Jötnar he looked like a teenager. He stepped closer, and Teresa stood up and almost threw herself at him.
“Whoa!” he cried, nearly falling back from the impact. She placed her lips firmly on his before pulling away. She lifted her hand and struck him across the face.
“Hey, save that for later!” he replied with a painful grin.
“You crazy bastard, Spartan. Kowalski has just been explaining what happened on the cruiser. You do realize you’re issued with armour and firearms for a reason?”
“Funny.”
He turned to the two Jötnar who waited patiently as his side.
“You’ve all met Gun before. You’ll be pleased to know he is now the Commander of the 1st Assault Battalion, and my CO.”
“CO?” asked Kowalski in surprise. “Nice going there, Gun. I hope you’re kicking his ass? You need to keep him in order.”
“Sergeant Lovett has been one of my most experiences and trusted NCOs since the formation of the Engineer unit, and he is now in charge of one of the squads in our 1st Company.”
He then turned to Khan.
“This here is Captain Khan, he is in charge of the 1st Company, and you’d be hard pressed to find a more aggressive or overly violent Jötnar anywhere on Yorkdale.”
Khan stated to laugh in his guttural and almost angry sounding tone.
“Got enough space for us?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Teresa as she shifted over. They had only made use of half the seating around the table, but the Jötnar were big and needed even more space. Gun lowered himself next to Teresa. Khan dropped down with a thump between Bishop and Misaki, much to her annoyance.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Ah, my apologies. Sergeant Bishop and Kowalski are some of the best marines in the Corps. They assisted in the rescue of the Jötnar and myself on Prometheus. If it wasn’t for them, and Teresa here, none of us would have made it out alive, and the Jötnar would have joined the rest of the brainwashed Biomechs. Hell, you would probably be on Prime right now fighting for the Union.”
“Really?” asked Khan in surprise.
Gun nodded in agreement. Khan turned to Bishop and grabbed him in one arm. He lowered his head to the marine.
“Thank you.”
Spartan was surprised at the words from the grizzled and somewhat vulgar warrior towards the marine. Their behaviour often flummoxed him, and on this occasion he was more confused than usual. Teresa left them talking and turned to Misaki, a woman she had heard about but not met before.
“Misaki, Spartan told me you met on Prometheus. How did you meet?”
The young women looked at her and did her best to hide her discomfort.
“I, uh, I was in one of the prisoner groups. We were selected to use in combat against the Biomechs for their training. Spartan and I fought against one of them.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it was pretty nasty, but we prevailed, didn’t we?” replied an uncomfortable Spartan.
Teresa watched them both but couldn’t work out what was going on. Neither seemed keen to discuss it further, so she could only assume it was the memories of the place they would both rather avoid.
“How did you get there?” asked Sergeant Lovett.
“Me?”
“Yes, how did you get on Prometheus?”
“Right, I was a dancer on one of the stations,” she started but was quickly stopped by the Sergeant.
“Dancer? I thought you were a tech specialist?”
“I am...a girl has to earn her keep though. Prometheus is full of specialists of all kinds. Ask Spartan, he got screwed over just like me.”
“You know about Spartan and his past on Prometheus?” asked Teresa. Misaki looked at her, and a twitch flickered across her brow as she detected a hint of suspicion in her voice.
“Of course. We were there quite some time, and we got to know each other very well, didn’t we?” she replied as she looked at Spartan.
An uncomfortable silence settled around the table, but Gun or Khan could not understand what was happening.
“How you get in with Spartan?” asked Khan. It was an honest question, but the implication in his wording did little to help things.
“I was performing a show with my troupe when the police arrived. It was a licensed venue, so there shouldn’t have been any problems.”
“Licensed? What kind of dancing are we talking about?” asked an intrigued Sergeant Lovett.
Misaki smiled at him coyly, enjoying the attention she was receiving.
“The police unit wore no insignia and said we had breached the peace. They cuffed us and took all the dancers away. Next thing I knew I was on the ship, in chains and drowsy. Then we were in the compound on Prometheus.”
&nbs
p; “That’s where you met Spartan?” asked Teresa.
“Yeah.”
Again, there was an uncomfortable silence. Bishop looked to Misaki and tried to encourage her to move closer to him. She threw him an angry glance and looked back to Spartan.
“Bishop and I have been given our new orders. We’re going to be transferred to the civilian passenger liner Oceania.”
“Oceania, the old civilian cruise ship? Isn’t she coming with us to the Anomaly?”
Bishop nodded.
“Yeah, she’s been outfitted to carry work crews, engineers and some troops. Looks like Confed have big ideas for the area. I’m part of the security detail, and Misaki here is getting back at doing what she does best.”
Sergeant Lovett and Kowalski both tried not to laugh at the obvious double entendre.
“Her tech skills and software knowledge are highly regarded by the computer specialists on the ship.”
“Yes, they need help reconfiguring the firmware for the new site. Looks like interesting work.”
“What about you, Kowalski?” asked Spartan.
“Well, I’m supposed to be getting a shuttle back to the returning transports. Commander Anderson still needs help back on Prometheus.”
“If you can spare a bit of time, I could really do with your tech knowledge on the Yorkdale. We’re a bit of a mess right now, and our gear and systems are all over the place.”
“Really?”
He looked at Teresa and then back at him.
“If you’re sure?”
Spartan nodded in agreement.
“Okay, I’ll get in touch with the Commander and see if I can arrange a temporary assignment to the Yorkdale.”
“Excellent. How is Anderson these days?” asked Teresa.
“Tired, mainly. The site has turned from a ruined warzone to a factory and research site. I don’t like to admit it, but the Union forces set up one hell of a secure site to work from. We’ve been getting the factories and shipyards fully operational.”
“How about the Biomech facilities?”
Kowalski looked to Gun and Khan before turning back to her.
“As agreed, the entire system has been deactivated, and most of the important control units have been taken away for study. The good news is, the tech we recovered will help us with tissue regeneration and maybe even organ and limb replacement.”
“Interesting. Are you any closer to understanding how the synthetic process works?”
“Kind of. Best we can tell the harvesting of organs was being used to create the less capable Biomechs. The main thing is the system is fast. Our estimates reckon a fully operational and combat ready unit in less than a week.”
“A week?” said Spartan in surprise.
“Yes. It is no wonder they had so many on Prime and Kerberos in a matter of months.”
“What about us?” asked Gun in a gruff tone.
“Well, as you might expect, you are something very different. Completely synthetic, your base components were being mined directly from the surface of Prometheus. A complete artificial life form, with no dependency on donor organs. The big problem though, is time. It takes months to develop a fully capable Biomech, such as yourself, and that is with the resources and technology already at Prometheus.”
“We are not Biomech!” growled Khan.
“No, of course not,” said Kowalski as quickly as he could.
“Any idea on when the fleet briefing is?” asked Bishop.
“Just over an hour in the main hall. All the captains will be present, as well as a large number of the marine commanders. Based on the number of people being collected here, I think we are going to get the full story on the Anomaly operation.”
Bishop nodded.
“You don’t think this will be another part of Operation Perdition? We’ve got the ships and manpower to cause a lot of trouble here.”
“You’re right. You’ve seen what the 1st Assault can do now. We’re not far from almost two thousand Vanguards and Jötnar. I doubt there is a ship, colony or base we couldn’t take from the enemy right now,” Spartan answered.
Khan slammed his right fist onto the table and nearly broke a chunk of metal framing off in the process. His fist was easily double the size of any of theirs, and the great bulk was like a hammer coming down.
“Yes! We cannot be stopped!” he growled, and at the same time gave them all the strangest of grins. Spartan shook his head in amusement.
“We only have so many warriors, Khan. We can’t fight everybody, all of the time!”
Khan looked at him and tilted his head to one side.
“Maybe not you, we can though!” roared Khan and with speed that surprised them all, he slammed his fist into Gun’s shoulder. The more experienced Jötnar easily evaded the strike and leaned back to grab the back of Khan’s arm. With a twist, he slammed his face down onto the table. The group went completely silent as they waited for the battered Jötnar to sit up. As he did so, a trickle of blood ran down his cheek. He looked at Gun and then to Spartan before laughing even louder.
“You’re crazy,” said Bishop, pointing at each of them, “all of you!”
Teresa started laughing, and the tone of the group returned to the calm state it had been the moment before.
“Okay then, Spartan. Let’s get to the real news. What’s all this about you knocking up the Sergeant here?” asked a coy-looking Kowalski.
Misaki’s face dropped as though she had just heard the most terrible news. Her brow tightened, and for the briefest of moments it looked as though she would vomit. The rest of the group hadn’t even noticed, much to her chagrin. They started chatting amiably about the news and ignored her. She sat back, thoughts and memories flashing through her mind. No one noticed her attention was focused completely upon Teresa. Bishop couldn’t see who she was looking at, but he finally sensed something was wrong. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she flinched at the contact.
“Are you okay?”
“I…feel a bit faint,” she said weakly.
Bishop excused himself and helped her from the table.
“You need a hand there?” asked Spartan.
“No, she’s very tired. A few hours rest should do the trick.”
* * *
Sanlav ducked back down from the railing and moved to the waiting men. It was dark, and the clouds over Yama City blotted out large parts of the city. The shadows were ink black and gave no tone or detail away. Rain fell further out into the city, giving a damp and miserable feel to the group of fighters clustered in the ruins. As he moved down, he thought back to where he had been a year before. It was incredible, but he had been transformed in a short time. On board the CCS Crusader he had been simply a lieutenant on a gun deck, but now he was the leader of a group of freedom fighters. It was something he could never have imagined, and a position he had never wanted. He jumped over a crevice in the masonry and landed near the waiting fighters. Caladus and a dozen heavily armed civilians waited off to his right. Each of his fighters were crouching down low beside a burnt out transport vehicle.
“Well?” asked Caladus from his secure position.
“The shuttles are there, but we have a problem.”
“What is it?”
He didn’t reply immediately as a sound from one of the streets far behind them caught his attention. With a quick hand signal, a number of his marines trained their rifles and carbines in the direction of the sound. He lifted his night vision glasses and examined the building. The wind blew debris, and a number of crates slid across the road. Satisfied they were safe for the time being, he turned back to Caladus.
“We have a security problem. Somebody must have tipped them off. I count over a dozen heavy Biomechs and at least fifty infantry. They aren’t just standing around either. The Biomechs are waiting near the shuttles, and the troops are split into groups patrolling the perimeter.”
Caladus considered the predicament.
“I don’t like it. Do you think they
know we’re coming? Maybe they are just taking extra precautions being as these are the last prisoners being sent away.”
“Perhaps. There are dozens of transports out on the landing bays though. They must be taking out thousands of people.”
“Between both of us, we can must nearly thirty fighters. That’s enough to take on their infantry, but not the Biomechs. Screw that. What about your friends? I thought you’d made agreements.”
Special Agent Johnson pushed ahead.
“Don’t worry about them, they’ll be here.”
Almost on cue a flight of fighters rushed overhead. It was impossible to tell what kind of aircraft they were, but the odds were that they were turncoat pilots flying Lightnings. They were the most common aircraft and perfectly suited for all kinds of operations on Kerberos. As they reached a position over the shuttles and transports, they started dropping off flares.
“They must know we are out here. Those flares are a diversion for our heat seeking missile systems.”
“They would be, if we had any!” said Captain Erdeniz with irony in his voice.
“Sir, look!” said one of his marines.
The group looked off to the other side of the escarpment to spot a snaking column of people. From their position it was almost impossible to make out details, but they were clearly armed, and there were well over thirty of them.
“Your friends?” asked Caladus.
As if to answer his question, one of the people flashed a dark green torch in their direction. The pinprick of light was difficult to pinpoint, but it did its job.
“That’s the signal. They should be the survivors of the industrial precinct.”
“I thought you said there were over two hundred of them.”
Johnson moved to the right of Caladus and whispered across to him.
“There were before the Biomechs cleared the place up last week. Last we heard was that over half had been captured. I reckon this is all that made it out.”
“Cover me,” ordered Erdeniz. Before they could reply, he dashed across the battle-scarred stonework to reach the group. It was only fifty or so metres, but as he moved, the rest of the fighters stood in silence. They each held their breath, praying he would make it. He prevailed and slid down next to the nearest of the group. As he arrived, he was met by a dozen rifles and all pointed directly at his chest.
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 43