Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

From inside the room, a bright yellow light filled the window as the external lights reactivated and bathed the courtyards with dull light. The sound of powerful engines announced the surprising arrival of a ground transport of some kind. The side doors of the room burst open to reveal another four armed men, each carrying Confederate military issue L48 carbines, presumably looted from murdered officers or soldiers.

  They knew we were coming. This is a set up, he thought bitterly.

  It was at that moment that Spartan knew they were in serious trouble. Chraige Attez was known for the murders of so many people, and in a matter of seconds, he and the rest of his team would share the same fate. He looked down, seaching for his weapon and spotted his rifle several metres away near the man holding the pistol to the Corporal’s head. His training told him exactly what to do, but there was a moment’s hesitation. If he surrendered, he would give up the entire team. They would certainly be ceremonially executed and their bodies dumped in the courtyard. Corporal Sovana was already dead, all he could do was try and save as many as he could.

  Do it, do it now!

  With one quick action, he slid his right hand down and grabbed at the close fitting thigh holster. His hand touched the hilt before Chraige Attez even spotted the movement. Even so, it wasn’t fast enough. A loud report from the man pointing the gun at the young Corporal announced her death. Spartan spotted the single bullet penetrating her visor and into her skull but did his best to ignore the carnage and aimed at the man. With great precision, he emptied five rounds into his torso and head before spinning around to point the weapon at Chraige Attez’s face. Sergeant Morato and two of her comrades unleashed a hail of fire at the four other men and cleared the room in seconds. It was violent and bloody work, but they were safe for now.

  “Clear!” she said simply and moved to the window to check down in the courtyard. An eight-wheeler was approaching, and she could make out the shapes of a number of men on the back.

  “Spartan, we’ve got company!”

  He nodded and stepped forward towards his prisoner, smashing the grip into his face. The impact almost certainly broke his nose and sent blood streaming over his chin. Sergeant Morato lifted her visor to reveal her face, a look of anguish showing clearly as she glanced over to their own fallen soldier. Spartan nodded in her direction.

  “Grab her, we need to get out and fast!”

  Two of the team grabbed the Corporal and Sergeant Morato lifted Chraige Attez to his knees, the blood still dripping from his face. Then they were out of the door and heading back to the staircase. Sergeant Tsuki Yobun saw them from the other end of the corridor and signalled with his left arm for them to follow him. They’d practiced dozens of scenarios, and luckily one without communications gear was one of them. It didn’t take long for the fifteen to work their way down to the ground floor, even with two of them carrying their wounded comrade. As they approached the secondary entrance, one of them spotted movement and lifted his fist. All fifteen ducked down low and waited. Spartan moved forward and leaned around the doorframe to look outside. He could make out the shapes of the other two groups of Alliance warriors, each in cover and watching the streets leading to the compound.

  Sgt Kawa Naori spotted him and indicated for Spartan and the others to stay where they were. She pulled a device from her suit and pointed it up high. Spartan watched as an object puffed out and flew up almost two hundred metres before giving a short but bright purple pulse.

  Good thinking, Sergeant. It was the emergency contact flare. A special electro-visual device that sent a digital pulse and small coloured flash to indicate they needed immediate support. A Marine Corps landing craft was already inbound for the extraction, and the signal would task the crew to come in fast to assist. That was when Spartan saw movement off to the right. It was at least a dozen armed men, and they were positioning themselves near the outer wall of the compound. Spartan stepped out from the shelter of the building.

  “Contact!” he cried and fired a long burst into the shapes near the wall. Two were killed instantly; the rest went to ground and proceeded to fire sporadically at those in the main building. Spartan looked back and gave the signal for his unit to fan out into the compound and to leave the safety of the building. It offered good protection, but they needed to evacuate and fast. Another five minutes, and the local cell members of Chraige Attez’s forces would be on them. This area was known to house a number of sympathisers, and they might manage to kill their prize before they could escape to interrogate him.

  One of the windows smashed on the upper floor, and a man blasted down indiscriminately at them. Spartan ran to the first wall where the others were taking shelter and spun round to check for enemies. On the visor HUD he picked out at least six men, all armed and firing. They must have been in hiding, waiting for their chance to strike. Several rounds struck nearby, and Spartan was acutely aware they were using the L48 carbines, a weapon easily capable of punching through even their toughed PDS body armour. He took aim, taking out two as a burst of fire forced him to shelter amongst the rubble of the partially collapsed wall.

  “Lieutenant, vehicle is here!” shouted one of the corporals, but he couldn’t quite make out who it was at this range. Spartan pulled himself from cover and hoped the return fire from his own team would be enough to occupy those in the building while he checked the new arrival. He looked through part of the damaged section from the explosives they had used and could see the eight-wheel vehicle as it disgorged at least a dozen men. They looked similar to the Zealot warriors he had fought on so many other planets and warzones.

  Where the hell have they been hiding?

  “Put fire on them, and do not let them get away from the vehicle!” he ordered. His team were all excellent shots and in seconds had stalled the Zealot reinforcements, pushing them back into the cover of the lightly armoured vehicle. Spartan could make out the head of one of the men on the other side of the vehicle. He selected the high-power mode and grinned to himself as the three projectiles smashed through the vehicle, slamming the man to the ground. Muzzle flashes lit up from multiple directions, and the walled compound was starting to look less like their escape route and more like a prison.

  “Sir, watch out!” called out Sergeant Morato who was busy trying to suppress those on the highest floor of the building. Chunks of masonry blasted from the walls as both sides exchanged fire. Corporal Jenkins was hit in the leg. Soon after, another burst of L48 carbine fire shattered Sergeant Tsuki Yobun’s rifle, but incredibly the shredded round managed to avoid penetrating his armoured suit.

  “Keep them busy. Help is on the way!”

  Spartan flicked the weapon back to normal firing mode and held down the trigger. With all three barrels active and firing in sequence, the rate of fire was astounding. He had read the gun could almost hit fifteen hundred rounds a minute, so far the weapon almost sounded like a chainsaw. He was tempted to order a retreat back inside, but once there they might never get back out. A familiar screaming caught his attention. It was a Marine Corps landing craft; one of the heavily armoured assault vessels used to land troops and light vehicles directly into battle. A series of loud crumps hammered around the eight-wheeled troop carrier as almost thirty magnetic projectiles slammed around the vehicle, each fired from the door-gunners on the flanks of the vessel.

  Good timing, people, he said happily to himself.

  The large craft came down so fast it almost looked like a crash landing. As soon as it hit the ground, the four side doors slid open ready for access. The door-gunners continued their suppressing fire against the enemy in the open and also in the building. Spartan lifted his hand, indicating for them to board the landing craft. It took less than a minute for them all to make it inside without taking further casualties. Spartan counted them in. Once satisfied the entire team, along with their prisoner, was inside, he climbed in. The door slid shut just in time to deflect two projectiles that would have struck him.

  “Hold on, we’re getting out of here
!” said the pilot over the sound system.

  With a roar, the craft lifted up, and Spartan felt twice his weight as it accelerated into the sky. He looked over to Teresa and two of the other men who were busy checking the body of their fallen comrade.

  “How is she?” he asked painfully, but he was aware she had little to no chance of surviving. Teresa looked back at him with a bloodied face and shook her head.

  “Not good. She’s alive, but barely.”

  Spartan lowered his eyes and looked back to the small side window and the compound that was already quickly disappearing into the distance. He held onto one of the many grab handles and squeezed it tightly.

  Somebody screwed us over. Somebody that knew we were going in. I’ll find them, and damn help them when I do!

  CHAPTER TWO

  The early years of the Alliance saw the retirement for many of the most famous ships of the War. While some ships were simply too badly damaged to be economically repaired, others such as those that fought for the Echidna Union were best scrapped to remove their shame from the annals. The Santa Cruz was one of the few ships to emerge from the war with her honour intact and useful role remaining. She was changed from a heavy marine transport into a mobile base for Alliance Special Operations Groups, more commonly known as SOGs.

  Ships of the Alliance

  Spartan, Teresa and Sergeant Tsuki Yobun waited patiently outside the medical bay on board ANS Santa Cruz. They’d been there for almost an hour now as the surgeons did their work. It wasn’t the waiting that was frustrating Spartan thought, not even the fact that he might have lost a good and dedicated warrior. No, it was the fact that somebody had let Chraige Attez and his Zealot friends know they were coming that hurt the most. Kerberos had suffered greatly at the hands of the Zealots and their Church of Echidna friends. By the time the rebels had fought the Union forces to a standstill, a large portion of the population had already been shipped away. It was one of the many problems still remaining for the fledgling Alliance, to find those hundreds of thousands of missing citizens. Some were known to have been used as slave labour, and in the early months of the War, a large percentage had been used to create the most savage and violent of biomechanical creatures.

  “Spartan, are you okay?” asked Teresa.

  He looked to her and nodded calmly.

  “I’m good. I’d like to know which bastard turned us in though. They nearly blew the raid.”

  Sergeant Tsuki Yobun rubbed his chin as he thought. He looked as if he had experienced an epiphany as he waited.

  “Lieutenant. If they knew we were coming, why did Chraige Attez stay there? Surely he could have just left the place, maybe even desert it and leave traps or charges for us.”

  Spartan said nothing at first, but he had to admit the Sergeant had a point. A sound from further along the hall marked the approach of a small group of marines. They wore the same uniforms they always had, but Spartan recognised the patches as being from the newly created Alliance. As the two men approached, the figure of Major Daniels followed them. He walked up to Spartan who saluted smartly along with his two comrades.

  “At ease,” were the first words Daniels spoke before he turned slightly and pointed at the door.

  “Is there any news on your Corporal?”

  Spartan shook his head.

  “A nasty business, but you did what had to be done. The rest of your team made it out alive though. As I said in the briefing, he had friends in the local militia. We weren’t sure whom, if any, we could trust. For your peace of mind, recon drones show four trucks of local militia arrived sixty seconds after you got out of there. If you’d surrendered your forces, you and your team would be strapped down and being interrogated as we speak.”

  He looked to the door and nodded in its direction.

  “Your Corporal in there may not live, but at least she has a chance. Better this than a few days of agony in their hands. You saw what they did to Shoutarou, not a pretty sight at all.”

  Spartan nodded in agreement, but he would much rather have not been forced to dwell on what had happened to that unfortunate soul. Luckily, the Major appeared agitated and started to move away.

  “I will see you in the briefing. You’ve got ten minutes before I start. Don’t be late,” he said firmly and marched away.

  Sergeant Yobun looked through the observation window into the medlab but could see little of note. There were two layers of smoked windows plus a fabric screen that blocked most of the light. He turned around to face Spartan who still looked angry at the way the mission had ended.

  “Lieutenant, you made a tough call, and it was the right one. We bagged the target, slotted anybody that got in our way, and completed the mission. Like the Major said, if we’d stayed or done anything differently, we would have been smoked.”

  Spartan did his best to look as though he agreed, but the issue with the Corporal wasn’t going to be resolved quite that easily. The Sergeant sighed and twisted away from the other two.

  “I’m needed down in the training hall. We’re running the ship hostage scenario again, and they need another instructor. Fill me in on the briefing afterwards.”

  Spartan nodded but said no more. The Sergeant moved off down the corridor, leaving just Spartan and Teresa alone. They were silent, happy to say nothing while they waited for news. They didn’t have long though before the Major’s briefing started. Spartan knocked on the door, and it was quickly opened by one of the four medical orderlies on duty. The man looked at Spartan and shook his head.

  “Sorry, Sir, no news. She’s stable, and her injuries are healing. She might come out of the coma today, in a week or never. As soon as there’s news, I’ll be in touch. I promise.”

  Teresa reached out and held his forearm.

  “Spartan, let’s go. There’s nothing we can do here, not yet.”

  He looked at her and back to the orderly. The man did his best to smile at Spartan, trying to reassure him she was in the best possible place.

  “Trust me, Sir. I will let you know immediately.”

  * * *

  The briefing room on board the ANS Santa Cruz hadn’t really changed much since the end of the War. The damage sustained in the final battle around Terra Nova had been patched up, and most of the crew had moved on. Some had quit the military, others were taking well deserved breaks with others just needed posting somewhere else. Like many of the survivors of the War, the old warhorse had been pressed back into surface until the new generation of ships could replace her. Only her designation and insignia had changed from the old CCS to the new style. Gone were her thousands of marines, and instead was this mixture of experts that had been tracking down the people and technology behind the War.

  Major Daniels entered the room and took up his position at the front. He had aged considerably in the months and eventually years it had taken to win back the Confederacy from the Echidna Union and its allies. Although young, his hair was already greying prematurely, and his face betrayed a tiredness that only prolonged combat and exposure to tragedy could replicate.

  “Be seated,” he stated simply.

  The hundred or so people sat down in their seats and watched patiently. Spartan glanced at them and allowed himself a small smile. This was being treated like a military briefing even though over half of the people there were actually civilians that had been seconded to the ad-hoc unit for the last six months. Service in the Confederate Marine Corps had definitely instilled an attitude into Daniels.

  “Thank you for attending this briefing. As you are no doubt aware, the conference on Terra Nova will be the first to take place since the peace accords thirteen months ago. A great deal has happened since then, the founding of the Alliance, the disbanding of colonial militia, and the resettling of many of our lost colonies. The threat of the Union has vanished since we vanquished their Core and control systems, but their supporters still exist. There are terrorist cells on every colony, and be in no doubt, they will keep on fighting as long as just
one of them remains. Typhon died on Terra Nova, and his legions surrendered, but what of his brothers, the so-called Sons of the League? No trace has been found of them, and of the ten legions of Biomechs Typhon boasted of. Only four were found.”

  He paused for a few seconds, letting that information sink in. It would, of course, be of no surprise to the men and women of this particular unit. After all, they put themselves in danger everyday to continue the fight against the enemy. Major Daniels nodded as he watched them.

  “But that isn’t why we are here. The brothers of Typhon and the missing Biomechs are just one of the many issues left for the Alliance to deal with. For the last six months, you have been involved in seven operations, each one risky, but each bringing us closer to understanding those behind the War. Now we are starting to understand how they were able to infiltrate our forces. It didn’t take place over months or years, not even decades. The rot started after the Great War itself. That is why we must show eternal vigilance and ensure this can never happen again. There are many of our enemies still out there, and work by people such as yourselves is bringing us closer to a better future.”

  He noticed Spartan in the group and nodded politely; a movement that was barely discernible to all but the most eagle-eyed of observers. He then looked to the rest of the hall and continued.

  “I have gathered you here because you are to participate in a summit of the best scientists, soldiers and politicians to plan the future of the Alliance military. You will have a complete free rein to voice your opinions on your experience with this unit and also on operations in the War. Obviously, you will not discuss the operations themselves or your roles in them, but you can use this information to help others understand what works, what doesn’t and what you think would help in the future. This short meeting may provide useful additional information prior to your arrival, especially since we have new intelligence and data from our last three operations.”