Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy
Page 53
“It’s Teresa. Sounds like something’s happening.”
* * *
Teresa lay on the table with thick ropes binding her to the surface. Marcus, Misaki and five other guards stood nearby. She watched the people in the room, and for a second couldn’t find Marcus. Then she spotted the Sergeant. He was stood next to Misaki who was busy checking a computer display. Captain Hobbs was speaking with her and becoming agitated.
“What do you mean?” she asked loudly.
“Two hearts, she’s pregnant.”
Hobbs turned away and approached the bed. She walked around it with a slow, steady pace until she was just a short distance from her face. She lowered her hand and traced it along Teresa’s cheek.
“Spartan’s?” she asked.
Teresa said nothing and did her best to turn her head away from the hated officer. Marcus watched on, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“Sir, what about the tribunal? We’ll be at the Anomaly shortly, and the comms are still down.”
Hobbs was enthused by Teresa and acted as though she hadn’t even heard the Sergeant.
“Sergeant Teresa Morato. Another traitor, like your lover. You thought you could rescue him?”
She twisted her head to look at the Captain.
“Spartan doesn’t need to be rescued. He knows who you are, and he’ll find you.”
Captain Hobbs started laughing.
“Who cares? Soon it won’t matter.”
Marcus stepped towards the two. He sensed she was occupied and her guard lowered. As she moved, one of the guards stepped ahead and blocked his movement. He easily knocked the carbine aside and continued on to the Captain.
“Captain? We need to resolve this issue as quickly as possible. The ship and the taskforce are vulnerable.”
“Spartan will be dealt with soon enough. You saw what happened to the others, and the same fate awaits him. Only those that remain loyal to me will make it out of the coming battle alive.”
Teresa started struggling and wriggling hard against the ropes holding her down.
“You killed Bishop, didn’t you? He was my friend.”
“I’m sure he was. Bishop died like a coward, just like the Captain and the rest of his lackeys. If you want Spartan to live for longer than the next ten minutes, you’ll give me information on the Yorkdale and the Biomech battalion.”
“What?” she exclaimed.
Captain Hobbs struck Teresa hard in the face, opening up a small cut on the side of her face. She almost laughed at the impact.
The ship’s alarms started blasting through the hull. It was the automated signal that announced the vessel was about to initiate a major manoeuvre. After the short series of blasts, a pre-recording repeated a short message. The ship would be firing retro-engines in sixty seconds as they arrived in the warzone. Captain Hobbs seemed disinterested in the announcement and turned back to Teresa.
“Spartan and his friends have stood in the way of my plans for long enough.”
“Like Bishop?”
“Of course. Unless you want to suffer his fate, you’ll give me what I want.”
She looked around at the rest of the personnel in the room.
“I suggest you strap in, this is going to be rough.”
The marines moved to the many bars and straps dotted throughout the hull for this kind of situation. The gravity would be deactivated just before the engines fired, and if they weren’t in position, the thrust would push them back into all manner of objects. Teresa flashed her eyes towards Marcus and saw a look of grim determination with a hint of elation. It wasn’t much, but it was an acknowledgement of his involvement. Marcus made for the door, but Hobbs spotted him.
“Where are you going, Sergeant? You need to strap yourself down.”
“Getting a medic for her wound,” he answered nervously.
The Captain lifted herself up from her position alongside Teresa.
“What do you care?” she asked.
Marcus froze, either from confusion or simply the realisation he had been found out. Misaki stepped up to him, almost smelling the fear.
The alert sounded again through the hull, and the engines were just seconds away from being powered up.
“He’s lying,” she said vindictively.
Marcus knew the game was up, and instead of trying to talk his way out, he swung at the woman. His fist struck her hard in the head, and she staggered back into the wall. Incredibly, the impact didn’t knock her out. Hobbs pulled the straps around her body, and then bent over to pull out her pistol. As she grabbed it, a dull roar thundered through the ship. It was the sound of the powerplants building up to fire a massive blast of energy to slow the ship for the final part of its journey. The engines would burn for almost a minute at this power level, and the force would be the equivalent of multiple gees. The engines started, but her arm became heavier and heavier as she tried to take aim. Marcus flew across the room and crashed into one of the walls, and a spray of blood blasted from his mouth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The capture of Prometheus and the discovery of the Biomech facility created a multitude of moral problems. Though mass production of the hellish creatures still required the use of donor humans, the final and definitive Biomech was the dreaded synthetic warrior. These larger, factory produced creatures were the most powerful of the entire race. The only weakness of these monsters was the time it took to construct them and the size of the facilities. The rescue of the final batch of unaltered Biomechs became the first Jötnar, and the birth of a new and powerful race.
Evolution of the Biomechs
The ships of the Anomaly taskforce sped towards the outer levels of the Anomaly. In an awe-inspiring demonstration of skill and planning, the group of fifteen vessels reached a position of just under an hour from the target location. Each ship fired a final powerful blast from their engines, and then performed a full one hundred and eighty degree rotation. In less than a minute, the taskforce were in formation and proceeded at combat speed towards the enemy. At this speed, the acceleration was negligible and those craft fitted with artificial gravity activated it. CCS Santa Cruz, the lead ship in the formation, pushed ahead.
“Sir, the Oceania is still jamming inter-ship communications,” said Commander Malone, the ship’s executive officer.
“What? Captain Hobbs was supposed to maintain communications.”
“This has gone on too far. Get a commando team aboard her immediately. I don’t care about this damned trial right now. We will be at the target zone in less than fifty minutes. I need full control and communications, or they’ll take us apart.”
Commander Malone nodded and moved off to speak with the commanders of the marines on board. Captain Schaffer moved to his chair and sat down. On the main viewscreen was the massive swirling cloud of the Anomaly. From this distance, it was impossible to make out the ships, but several dark lines marked the position of the orbital structures described in the reports.
“IFF?”
The tactical officer finished a quick scan of the vertical display and crosschecked the data with that on the ship’s main computer system.
“I’m picking up valid signals from Achilles class cruisers. I’m detecting Furious, Bellerophon and Patroclus.”
Captain Schaffer checked the display himself.
“What about Perseus? We’re missing a cruiser,” he asked.
“Wait, there is something happening in sector seven.”
The tactical officer ran a full series of short and long-range scans into the Anomaly. The sensors were capable of detecting heat, radar cross-sections as well as electronic signatures.
“I have nine Scimitar class missile cruisers, plus another dozen unidentified ships engaging a damaged cruiser. Yes, it’s the Perseus. They have sustained heavy damage. Multiple signals, they’re abandoning ship.”
“Damn!” muttered Captain Schaffer.
“Wait, there’s more. I detect six more frigates leaving the Spacebridge, and it loo
ks they are close to attacking the last three cruisers.”
“What about our taskforce, are we still in formation?”
“Sir! The jamming has stopped. I’m detecting full status and combat readiness from all vessels in our fleet.”
“About time. Get a message to the XO. I want our marines ready. Cancel the landing party for Oceania.”
The tactical officer nodded and pulled down his intercom. Captain Schaffer double-checked the status of his ships. It wasn’t the most powerful fleet, but his seven light cruisers were state of the art and equipped with a multitude of weapon systems. He hit the ship-wide communications button.
“This is the Captain. We have arrived at our destination. The enemy are already in the middle of an assault on the Furious Battlegroup. All ships are to be ready for combat operations in fifteen minutes. Assault platoons, ready your landing craft, gunners, and prepare your systems. We are outnumbered, but surprise and firepower is on our side. Good hunting.”
He turned to his communications officer.
“Get me through to the Oceania. I want to know what the hell is going on there.”
* * *
Spartan woke to find himself pushed against the straps. For a moment he thought he was being pulled or dragged away, but then he realised it was the final stages of the ship’s engines being fired. The ship must be slowing down. That meant they were either at, or very close to the Anomaly. He looked around the room and quickly spotted Gun. He was still strapped down, but it looked like he was struggling with the straps. A lurch in his stomach was the first indication that the artificial gravity had been reactivated. It took a few seconds until his entire body adjusted for the short time he must have been weightless. He tried to roll over towards Gun, but the straps were too tight.
“Gun!” he cried. “Are you awake?”
“Spartan?” came back the reply.
“Yeah, you okay?”
Gun struggled, but the sound of him trying to move was much louder than Spartan’s attempts.
“Great, apart from being stuck in here. You hear that?”
Spartan said nothing, but he kept still and listened carefully. At first he heard nothing of note, but then there was the odd crackle of what sounded like gunfire.
“Guns?” he asked.
“Yeah, Spartan, for us?”
“You’re thinking of a rescue party?”
The door burst open and a marine flew through the air at least three metres before crashing to the ground. A Jötnar warrior rushed in followed by two more. Spartan strained to see who it was, but the straps were too restrictive.
“Spartan?” came a familiar voice.
The creature stomped towards him, and with a swishing sound of sharp metal moving quickly through air, he felt his bonds break. With more effort than expected, he lifted himself up to see the full armoured shape of Khan. He was carrying what looked like a metal baseball bat. It was smooth and crudely finished.
“You crazy bastard!” he laughed, overjoyed to see a friendly face for the first time in days. “What the hell is that?”
Khan looked at the metal, and back to Spartan.
“Non-lethal weapon,” he said with a lopsided grin.
Spartan looked down at the body of the traitorous marine. A pool of blood was forming around his head.
“Yeah, good work there.”
Khan moved over to where Gun was strapped and hacked away with his knife. The weapon looked small in his oversized hands, but Spartan was aware it was more the size of a machete or German style messer. When the last strap broke, the Jötnar jumped up and off the table. He roared with pleasure and anger in equal measure.
“Khan…Spartan, it is time!” he growled.
Spartan slid off his own table and onto his feet, a pang of pain running up his still hurt leg. The adrenalin of the situation surged through his body, and his heart pounded. Khan held his arm.
“They still have Teresa.”
Spartan’s face almost exploded in rage.
“Where are they?” he demanded.
Khan handed him a small datapad type device that showed the thermal scans of the sensors positioned by the marines in the last twenty-four hours.
“Sergeant Lovett says they are here, about ninety metres,” he pointed off to his left, “that way.”
Spartan bent down to the dead marine and rolled him over. There was something strange about his face, and it looked like a tattoo or marking on his cheek. He didn’t have time though and grabbed the man’s carbine and ammunition clips.
“Lead the way, Khan. It’s time we explained things to that bitch!”
* * *
“Did you get all of that?” asked Sergeant Lovett.
Kowalski fiddled with one of the partially disconnected display units. He looked over his shoulder at the software he was running to collate data.
“Yep, got the lot. I’ve already switched the jamming system off, but it won’t be long before the crew realise what’s going on.”
“Okay, can you pull the AI system and give us full access to the ship?”
The monitoring system for the sensors flashed a series of colours and a low tone came from its built-in speaker.
“Yeah, I need about sixty seconds.” He pointed at the device. “How far away are they?”
Sergeant Lovett checked the unit, but the data was far from perfect. It just gave them an idea, nothing specific.
“I’d say a group, not sure of the numbers. They are three sections back from the staircase. Maybe thirty, say forty seconds away.”
“Crap!” muttered Kowalski.
“I’ll keep them busy. You keep working. We need to let the crew and fleet know what is going on here before they arrest us.”
“You mean shoot us?” replied Kowalski in a sarcastic tone. He strained himself as he pulled his body around the AI unit, and to where the main data cables ran into the primary communications unit. He couldn’t simply remove it because the damage to the onboard systems could prove fatal, especially as they were about to enter battle.
Sergeant Lovett moved to the side of the door and checked his firearm. The small device looked pitiful in his hands, and nothing like the regulation firearms they carried as marines.
“Hey, your sidearm!” he called over to Kowalski.
Still trapped in a bizarre, contorted nightmare, Kowalski managed to grab his own pistol and slide it along the floor. The sound of footsteps outside clattered on the staircase.
“Here they come.”
He held both the pistols out in the direction the enemy would have to appear. It should only take seconds, but the sound stopped. He listened carefully until the noise of voices and an argument told him they must have found the unconscious guard. A final shout, and then the noise resumed as the group came charging up the stairs. He took aim and started to squeeze the triggers.
* * *
“Sir, we’re receiving open video streams from Oceania. It’s from Sergeant Kowalski, one of our commandos. He is sending evidence concerning Captain Hobbs. He says she is an agent working for Union forces and he has been able to take full control over the ship’s systems.”
Before the Captain could respond, he pushed the video feeds up onto the main screen. The first feed was a view of the bridge of the ship. It showed a mechanical unit with pipes, tubes and cables running from it. There seemed to be a gun battle going on at the entrance of the bridge. In the corner of the screen, another marine was firing two pistols out into the corridor.
“It’s him, Sir,” said the XO.
The communications officer boosted the sound levels and did his best to mitigate the gunfire. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.
“This is Sergeant Lovett. We’ve uncovered a conspiracy by Captain Hobbs and a number of key personnel on this vessel.”
He paused for a moment, and at least a dozen rounds and a thud from a grenade echoed throughout the bridge. Kowalski dropped down from the computer equipment and took up position nearby.
He rolled to the side as something substantial flew past and exploded. Dust and debris littered the room. The crew on the Santa Cruz stood in silence, waiting for the material to move.
“Communications, connect me to every ship in the fleet, now!” roared the Captain.
“Sir, just a few seconds.”
The communications officer struggled with the computer system as he engaged multiple handshake routines to gain direct access to the other vessels. It was one of the benefits of the command ship. It had substantial access to other vessels. He nodded to the Captain.
“You’re on, Sir.”
“This is Captain Schaffer. There has been a mutiny on board Oceania. All vessels are to stay well away from her until the end of this crisis. It would appear the Jötnar had been falsely implicated in a conspiracy to kill Confederate personnel. I call on all forces aboard the Oceania to ceasefire immediately.”
He replaced his handset and looked towards the communications officer.
“Keep that message going. I need full control of this fleet, and fast.”
He looked back to the screen and the fading cloud of dust. Kowalski and Lovett were still in position, but something had changed. Two men walked in with their hands raised. They were marines, and Kowalski seemed to be shouting at them. A crackle came over the speakers and Sergeant Lovett looked around, trying to find the camera in the room.
“Captain, these marines have stopped their attack. Thank you. We have injuries, but I think we avoided any fatalities.”
Captain Schaffer smiled at the news. He leaned in to the screen and the microphone system.
“Good work, son, now keep the place secure. I will be sending a team over to help regain control. Do you have any news of Lieutenant Spartan, Commander Gun and the others?”