“No, Sir, I only have control of the main systems, security and propulsion. Parts of the ship have been disconnected.”
“Very well, stand your ground. I will have a platoon of our finest with you in ten minutes.”
“Sir, more feeds are coming online.”
The image of the bridge was replaced by a view of a darkened room with the partially naked body of Sergeant Morato splayed out for all to see. Next to her was Captain Hobbs shouting into a radio unit. A man lay in a puddle of blood in the corner of the room. Another woman stood nearby, but unlike Hobbs she was busy looking about the room, trying to find something.
“What the hell was going on over there?” said Captain Schaffer to his XO. “Organise a rapid reaction boarding party. I need that ship ready for the fight.”
The woman on the screen pointed into the camera lens and lifted a handgun. Captain Schaffer watched her carefully and was enthralled by both her obvious beauty, and the savage glare she gave to the camera. There were two flashes, and the feed went dark.
Another of the command officers called his attention to a database file for her.
“Sir, that is Misaki SatM. She is supposed to be assisting with technical duties on board the Yorkdale. She transferred with Sergeant Bishop to work on the ship’s systems.”
He nodded as he read the details.
“Interesting. So she knew Spartan, so there is a story there, but not for now. Move the fleet a safe distance from Oceania until this is resolved. Everybody else concentrate on the enemy forces. We have a battle to fight, and it’s going to be tough enough without a rogue passenger liner running through the middle of us. Let Sergeant Lovett and his people know about that room. I suspect they are already searching for Hobbs and her friends.”
* * *
Khan led the rush, with Spartan and Gun close behind. Another dozen marines and Jötnar were following them. Once into the corridor, the booming voice of Captain Schaffer blasted thorough the hull. Where marines and crewmen had seemed openly hostile, they now moved aside or joined them as the group moved towards the secure compartments deep inside the hull. As the crimes of Hobbs became known, Spartan became more and more angry.
“How much further?” shouted Gun.
Spartan didn’t slow but threw a quick glance back at the warrior.
“Two more turns and we hit the secure wing.”
Khan rounded the next bend and narrowly avoided a burst of rifle fire. He moved to the side of the corridor and took cover behind a mound of cases. Spartan moved up alongside him.
“Who is it?” Spartan asked him.
“Get back or Morato takes a bullet in the head!” cried out a woman.
“Misaki?” shouted Spartan, instantly recognising her voice.
Khan started to stand, but Spartan pulled him back.
“No, she’s insane.”
Spartan stepped out and into the line of fire. The corridor was about two metres wide, and a number of trolleys were strapped in at certain points. Misaki hid behind one, but he could just make out her face and firearm.
“Misaki, it’s me, Spartan.”
At the sound of his voice, she blasted away. Several of the rounds cut past him, almost striking him in the process. He pulled himself closer to the wall.
From the left, Captain Hobbs emerged with the drugged shape of a woman draped into her shoulder. As she stepped out, she turned and looked towards Spartan. The look she gave him was one of pure hatred.
“You Confederate lackey. You and your monsters will all burn.”
He took one step forward, but she placed a blade so close to the woman’s skin, it drew a tiny trickle of blood.
“Any closer, pig, and your woman dies. Right here, and in front of you!”
Spartan lifted his hand, to show he had lowered his weapon, and took a step back.
“That’s good. Now, stay back and leave me a clear route to the landing bay. Get in my way and she dies!”
* * *
“Tactical, what is your assessment?” asked Captain Schaffer.
The command staff of CCS Santa Cruz stood around the tactical display that showed a map of the vessels present, as well as the Captains of each ship.
“The Furious battlegroup is outnumbered and trapped. The latest Union ships have arrived through the Spacebridge. Either we move directly to our ships and help as best we can, or we block the bridge and then turn back and hit them from the rear.”
The XO scratched his chin, evidently unhappy at the options.
“If we leave them for much longer, we might lose the entire battlegroup.”
“True,” replied Captain Schaffer, “but what if they have more ships waiting? They could bring in a continuous stream of vessels and simply overpower us with superior numbers.”
Almost on cue, the Spacebridge to Alpha Centauri flickered and flashed.
“Sir, four more frigates have arrived. Enemy fleet will be in range in six minutes.”
“That’s it, we hit them in the heart. I want all ships to strike their force in the centre. Boarding parties to the largest ships, and let the Jötnar take the cruisers. Once we’ve struck the first blow, we’ll split up. One group will keep their ships busy, the second will assist the Furious Battlegroup, and the third and final group will take up positions at the mouth of the Spacebridge. We’ll mine it, so nothing else can come through. Understood?”
The officers nodded and moved to their stations. Captain Schaffer returned to his command chair. He pulled on the strap and buckled himself in. The intercom to his right patched him through to his crew.
“Action stations, this is it. Keep your guns firing, and do not stop until every single Union vessel burns!”
“Sir!” cried the tactical officer.
“What?”
“More signals, five more ships have just arrived from somewhere in this System. Four are unidentified, but the fifth is the Leviathan.”
“Typhon’s ship? From Euryale?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Captain’s throat went dry. He’d already met this vessel once before, and even the heavy ships of the line had been unable to harm her. But what really worried him was that the ship carried the dreaded particle weapon. An invisible killer that could explode ships using its high-energy.
“This changes nothing. Send the signal, all ships, open fire!”
The Santa Cruz rumbled as its many railgun batteries opened fire. The plasma discharges from the gunports were the only indication that something was happening. CCS Santa Cruz pushed ahead with five light cruisers gathered around her like a protective flock. A second line of ships based around CCS Yorkdale followed. The smaller frigates buzzed about the group, looking for missiles or enemy fighters. Streams of projectiles approached the disorganized but more numerous enemy fleet.
“Sir, they reforming and turning to face us. I count twenty-two ships plus the nine reinforcements.”
“Thirty-one ships,” he said under his breath. The fifteen ships under his command were mainly light cruisers, perhaps a match for the older, archaic vessels dating back to the Great War, but not at this range. His ships were designed for a new kind of war, one with more heavily armoured ships equipped with close ranged railguns. The days of long distance missile battles and torpedo bombers was supposed to have died with the Great War. The reinforcements, including the particle weapon armed Leviathan, changed things considerably.
“Battle speed, all ships close to attack. Boarding parties launch landing craft. It is time!”
Dozens of assault shuttles and landing craft moved from the protective armour of CCS Santa Cruz and powered up their engines. He checked the vessels in the fleet and noticed nothing was launching from the Yorkdale. He tapped the ship and connected to her commander, completely bypassing the communications officer. An image of Major Daniels appeared.
“Sir.”
“Why aren’t you launching landing craft? The fleet is moving into battle, and your ship is lingering in the rear with the ge
ar.”
“Captain, the Jötnar will not fight until they know what is going on. Commander Gun, Lieutenant Spartan and many Jötnar warriors and officers are missing, and some dead. They feel betrayed, and your orders are telling them to launch suicide attacks on the enemy capital ships.”
“Major, this isn’t a request. Get them into the landing craft.”
“No, Sir, they are right. Why should they fight?”
The communications officer lifted his hand and called over to the Captain.
“Sir, I am in radio contact with Sergeant Lovett and also Captain Khan. I can repeat the signal and resend it to the Major.”
For a second the Captain looked confused at what the officer was suggesting, and then it dawned on his why it might help. He shook his head in annoyance, mainly at himself.
“Do it and fast. I need the Yorkdale and her troops in action. Without them, the battle will be over before it starts.”
The XO pointed to the shape of the enemy cruiser that was manoeuvring to the front of the fleet.
* * *
Hobbs and Misaki moved along the shaft as quickly as they could, but the weight of Teresa’s lifeless body slowed them down. Spartan followed as closely as he dared, but every few seconds one of them turned back to check they were safe.
“Stay back!” roared Misaki in her insolent tone. She fired another two shots, but she must have been tiring as this time the bullets were nowhere near her pursuers. She took some of the weight from Hobbs and dragged Teresa out into the open space in the landing bay. Inside, a number of personnel were carrying crates of ammunition and weapons towards a waiting assault shuttle.
“Watch out!” cried Spartan, but it was too late. The officer aimed her pistol and shot two of them in the head. The bullets passed cleanly through the men, and they fell to the ground. The third heard Spartan and managed to jump behind a crate of rifles. He still took a round to the shoulder and cried out in pain. Hobbs spun around and aimed at Spartan.
“Stay back, Spartan, unless you want the two of you to die right now?”
Misaki stepped away, leaving Hobbs with Teresa draped against her shoulder. She ran over to the shuttle, climbed inside and headed to the cramped cockpit. Hobbs stayed still with her pistol aimed directly at Spartan’s face. Khan and Gun appeared and moved around the flanks of the women. Hobbs spotted them and turned the gun to her prisoner.
“I warned you, all of you, back on Euryale. You are all turncoat animals. Why do you fight for him? We made you and you serve us. You are ours to command.”
Khan lifted up his hands as if he didn’t understand. He turned to Spartan.
“Hey, don’t look at me, she doesn’t make any sense to me either.”
Misaki appeared at the doorway to help Hobbs drag their hostage into the craft. Spartan took another step, but Misaki glared at him.
“Spartan, you asshole. You could have had everything. Instead you threw it away on this pathetic little empire. Hobbs and her friends have offered me more than you ever could.”
She dragged Teresa a few more metres and stopped, leaning over and whispering to Hobbs. Spartan took his chance and ran forward towards the three. He covered half the distance before Misaki saw him. She lifted her gun and blasted away at him. Spartan was fast and managed drop behind a drifting container at the last minute. He was only a few metres away, but Hobbs managed to bring out the trump card. From her jacket, she brought out a thermal shock grenade.
“One more step, Spartan, and I’ll blow us all out into space, understood?”
He stopped, immediately recognizing the threat of the weapon. He lifted his hands so that the rest of his unit could see him.
“Now, we’re leaving, and Sergeant Morato is going to come with us. She will be a useful addition to our brothers.”
Hobbs moved back, reaching the main door of the shuttle. Spartan glanced at the hull, making a mental note of the registration code. It was minor, but it might be of use. The three were then inside the craft and the door clamped down behind them. He turned and shouted over to Gun.
“We have to stop them leaving!”
Gun lifted his weapon and aimed it at the engines of the craft.
“No!” shouted Spartan. “You might hit the fuel cells!”
A high pitch whine came from the middle of the shuttle and with no warning the engines fired up. Usually the craft waited until outside before that happened. The alarms for the exterior doors started.
“Everybody back inside, the landing bay doors are opening!” he cried. He rushed back and through one of the three main shield doors. Once inside, he hit the seal button. With a thud the heavy door dropped down and sealed the room from the hangar area.
“What is that?” called out one of the marines.
Spartan couldn’t hear anything, but he could feel a series of vibrations though the floor. They were rapid and becoming more powerful.
“Its automatic canon fire. A frigate must be strafing the hull.”
In answer to his suggestion, a loud thud shook the corridors and ripped several plating sections from the ceiling. Steam poured in from a broken pipe, and the lights cut off.
“Bloody hell!” yelled Spartan, now becoming frustrated at their predicament. Seconds later, the emergency power cells activated and lit the low level red lights. They cast a dull glow to the corridor, but it was better than pitch darkness. Spartan pulled himself along the rails as more blasts shook the vessel and threw them about. Khan spun around so he was upside down and moved towards Spartan.
“Ship is lost, we need to get out,” he growled.
“The crew, we have to warn them,” countered Spartan, still unwilling to leave.
“Spartan!” shouted Gun from further ahead. “They already know. They aren’t stupid.”
* * *
“Multiple targets, eighty-four missiles, even pattern throughout the fleet.”
“How long until impact?” asked a nervous Captain Schaffer.
“Ninety seconds, Sir. They are tempest class anti-ship missiles, high-speed and invulnerable to countermeasures. Starting defensive pattern now.”
A high pitched rumble indicated the ship’s dozens of point defence turrets had switched to small, high velocity projectiles and were all hurling them out in the hundreds towards the target.
“Three destroyed…and another,” said the officer excitedly.
The Captain shook his head. It was a bewildering assault of powerful missiles that could destroy his smaller fleet. Back in the days of the Great War, these kinds of weapons were common. Many ships in the opposing fleets would have access to missile defence cruisers. These powerful defensive ships carried hundreds of high-speed guided missiles that were specially designed to track and eliminate torpedoes and missiles. With the improvements in high-energy weapons, especially railguns, they had fallen out of use. They were complicated and reliant upon a long supply chain, and therefore vulnerable to defensive measures. None of Schaffer’s ships were designed to stand this kind of attack.
“Sir, they are all targeting us.”
“What?” demanded the Captain.
“All of the missiles are moving towards us in a wide dispersal pattern. I’m picking up an additional wave of thirty-two missiles, and all of them are heading this way.”
“Gods!” he muttered back. He knew that the Santa Cruz, while a powerful marine transport and a well-armed ship, would have next to no chance against that kind of onslaught.
“Co-ordinate all local defensive fire, and hit them with a wide debris pattern. We cannot let those missiles inside our cone of defence. We have over a thousand marines still on board!”
The tactical officer pressed a button, but then quickly turned back in surprise.
“Sir! More targets incoming. I’m detecting approximately six ships, including one large target, possibly a battleship.”
Captain Schaffer lowered his hand into his face.
“This is it,” he whispered to himself.
He looke
d up and watched the shapes of the approaching vessels rush past his own ships and into a position immediately between his line of ships and the Union forces. The sensors on board Santa Cruz went wild as IFF signals and data traffic surged towards them. The internal sound system was overridden, something that could only be done by the command or flagships of the fleet.
“This is Admiral Jarvis of CCS Crusader. I am taking command of this fleet. All ships continue your attacks, and drive them back!”
On the main screen the line of small shapes were replaced by the massive hull of the Confederate Battlecruiser. As soon as she slowed into position, a number of powerful blasts from her manoeuvring thrusters spun her around to present her flank to the enemy line of warships. Streaks of shot from the scores of railguns along her hull pounded the approaching ships.
“Sir, Crusader is engaging the missiles!” cried the tactical officer.
Captain Schaffer watched with a mixture of pride and awe as hundreds of streams of light cannon fire ripped through space like lines of string. Each reached out to the myriad of approaching missiles, tracking the paths of the devices and blasting them apart. Only two made it through the fire and exploded impotently against the thick, hardened armour of the mighty ship.
Captain Schaffer felt as though a surge of electricity had been pumped through his body. He grabbed his intercom.
“All remaining assault units are to launch immediately. I want those ships under our control and fast!”
He then turned to the helmsman.
“Full power to the engines, I want us right in the middle of them!”
“Aye, Sir.”
The rumble of the engines could be felt through the vessel. The additional force of acceleration, mixed with the rotating crew sections, put an unusual series of strains on the crew. But it was something they had all trained for, and the straps and harnesses at every station proved their worth.
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 54