“Sir, message from the Ajax, they have breaches in engineering, they are advising us to leave the area,” said the Lieutenant.
Captain Matthias swore, angry that he was about to lose his only other vessel and her huge compliment of crew. “Double charge the guns and bring us in close, I want to hit her close and hard!” he barked.
As the warship moved in closer to the battle the three ships disappeared in a cloud of projectiles and plasma gas.
***
“We need to move faster!” argued Admiral Jarvis as she watched the tactical display as her group of ships moved in towards the Titan Naval Station. The Fleet had almost completed the trip from where they had been assembled at Kerberos and would reach Prime shortly.
“Any more news on the Achilles? Is she still in the fight?” she asked.
“Unknown, Admiral, just static and interference. Whatever is going on we’ll find out in about thirty seconds,” answered Lieutenant Andrews, the tactical officer, as the Fleet moved ever closer.
The Fleet, headed by the mighty battlecruiser was heading directly for the Station and the Admiral could only hope that the cruisers had done enough to clear their way in. As they reached within one thousand kilometres their sensors were able to burn through the perimeter and provide some tactical data.
“We’re showing the Achilles and the Victorious are still fighting. Achilles is heavily damaged and venting fuel. Ajax is evacuating, Hector is gone. Can’t get through to Titan Naval Station yet, no signs of capital ships in the area though,” said Andrews.
As the Fleet moved ever closer, the flashes of battle were now visible from most of the ships. News of the loss of the Hector had spread through the rest of the Fleet like wildfire and some were undoubtedly concerned as to the ability of the CCS Crusader to hold off such a well renowned warship. They were already slowing as they reached just fifty kilometres from the Station.
“Admiral, the Victorious is changing course, she is heading our way. Achilles is burning,” said Andrews.
“It’s time,” she said to herself as she signalled to Lieutenant Nilsson to put her on with the Fleet.
“This is Admiral Jarvis. We are at our objective. The Station is clear but we are facing a fully operational Victorious. All group leaders begin your attack, she must be stopped, no matter the cost. Marines are clear to start your landings. Stay close to your escorts, this is going to be rough. I repeat, all offensive actions are authorised. Good luck,” she said in a calm voice.
As her orders spread through the Fleet, the bulk of the vessels turned to face the damaged battleship Victorious. Only the Santa Maria and Santa Cruz, with almost two thousand marines on board, and their group of four escort gunboats continued on their trajectory towards the Titan Naval Station. The gunboats were from the deck of the CCS Wasp and carried a dozen men and massive firepower. Today these four craft were configured for point defence. Each one carried additional defensive pods to protect against incoming projectiles and missiles. They pushed out in front of the Santa Maria.
The CCS Crusader, though new, had not been tested in battle before and this was her first opportunity to prove herself against the toughest opponent she could ever expect to face, a CCS battleship.
Spartan and Teresa were sitting towards the rear of their marine landing craft. It was cramped and much smaller than they expected. It carried a full platoon of marines inside its thick armoured structure as well as extra supplies, spare weapons and some heavy equipment. Everything a commando unit could need to establish a beachhead for the rest of the marines.
It was shaped like an angry wasp, its legs stuck up below and its power plants mounted high above the fuselage. Unlike the gunboats it was lightly armed with just defensive weapon mounts fitted around the body, each one designed to be operated by the marines onboard. Spartan and Teresa had been commandeered to control the right-hand door gun though the name was somewhat of a misnomer. The weapon was a twin -barrelled machinegun, an improved version of the same weapon used generations before in the ground wars on Earth. It might be low tech but it was reliable and functioned both on the ground and in the vacuum of space. The combat landing craft were unpressurised so only those in sealed suits could either crew or travel in them. The front of the craft was rounded and massively thick, apparently in tests it could sustain a single impact from a capital ship mounted railgun and against lighter weapons could easily absorb substantial fire over the short time it took to reach ground or ship based targets.
As they moved from the safety of the CCS Santa Maria they travelled past the massive ship from the left side and moved alongside as the rest of the assault craft joined them. As they moved into position, one of the gunboats came nearer, it was easily five times the size of the landing craft and bristled with weapons. Though the craft looked huge it was miniscule in comparison to the Santa Maria which in turn was dwarfed by the size of the battlecruiser CCS Crusader.
From their position they had a clear view of the ongoing battle of the two juggernauts, the Crusader and the Victorious. The two ships were several kilometres apart and bombarding each other with volley after volley. The great bulk, as well as the thick armour of each vessel, precluded any quick victory and as they hammered away at each other the small number of other craft circled around, trying to assist but without drawing too much attention from the wounded warship. After a dozen broadsides the ships looked no further from the end of their battle than when they started.
Slightly off to the right of the two titans the bright flashes continued from the wreck of the Hector at it continued to burn and tear itself apart. Though the ship was destroyed, scores of lifeboats continued to burst out from the damaged sections as the crew desperately tried to avoid the savage inferno of the dying cruiser.
The blazing hulk of Ajax drifted slowly towards the battle but with the damage it must have sustained it was going nowhere fast.
Seated ahead of Teresa and Spartan was the rest of their improvised squad of commandos, waiting for their landing. Each was fully equipped with their sealed suits, weapons and additional equipment. Marcus and Jesus were part of the next squad on the other side of the landing craft and like them, they had been assigned a door gun. Half of the marines were new recruits from the Santa Maria and though they were all keen to get stuck into action, they also looked nervous, really nervous.
The craft shook and the passengers would have rolled to the rear if it weren’t for the sturdy straps that kept each of them firmly in their positions. Another reason for the heavy-duty harnesses was that they kept the marines secure when travelling in gravity free space. Contrary to what a few of the recruits had thought, modern science had not solved the problem of artificial gravity other than some basic improvements, such as the rotating habitation sections on the capital ships.
Colonel West, in his own distinctive armour, moved along the loading section checking on each of the marines. He certainly looked the part, with his scarred but well cared for armour and a customised L48 rifle on his back.
“We are doing one pass of the docking area. It looks like they have units guarding all the main approaches and have set up anti-aircraft emplacements near the habitation domes. So we’re going to have to go in hot and stabilise the situation. First, the gunboats will move in and clear a path through the anti-aircraft mounts, we’ll follow and take the docking hub. The rest of the commando units will land at the key points along the hub and loading area. We have four landing craft bringing in our commando company. One landing craft will also bring in an engineering platoon to help with any problems we might face. Once we’re inside, our job is to head to the Command Centre so we can shut down the Station’s weapon system. Once captured, we need to hold the area and wait for reinforcements. With these down the blockade on Prime will be lifted. Even more importantly, it will allow us to land transports and shuttles to take off survivors. We are expecting anything up to four hundred thousand people here and who knows how many casualties. Until the rest arrive we can expec
t to be outnumbered by at least ten to one, so we must move fast and hard. Until the weapon systems are offline we can only get a small number of landing craft in. We can’t take the entire Station on our own, not even with five hundred could we do it in the time that we have. We have to get the guns offline so General Rivers can bring in the cavalry. Understood?” he asked.
“Now don’t try and bring civilians to the landing craft, we cannot take anybody without a sealed suit and that will probably just be us. Leave the rescue to the jarheads following us in. We do the fighting, the rest of the marines clear up, no exception!” he ordered.
The marines all nodded, some of them hitting their helmets with their ammunition clips. The Colonel then moved further to the front so he could check on their progress. The first wave of the assault consisting of four shuttles and two gunboats went ahead and were just a few kilometres from the Station. Inside their craft a red light started to flash, from their training Spartan knew it meant they were expecting hostile fire.
“Incoming!” shouted one of the commandos at the front over his headset.
A number of fist-sized holes appeared in the outer skin of the landing craft as a long burst of heavy weapons fire raked the craft. Streaks of projectiles blasted past the craft as they moved ever closer. Spartan ducked back, flinching from the incoming fire. The landing craft was heavily armoured as they were designed to get troops to the ground when under fire but these projectiles were substantial. They were obviously expecting trouble.
The nearest gunboat travelled a little further ahead and its weapon pods activated, each one sending clouds of tiny flechette rounds into space that tore the incoming fire to dust. If they had been in atmospheric flight the sounds of weapons fire would have been deafening. But in the silent vacuum of space though there was nothing, just the vibration of the weapons fitted to the ships and the continuous sparks and flashing of them blasting away.
More holes and sparks tore down the left side of the gunboat and then a massive blast tore away one of the thrusters and sent it drifting away from the shuttles.
“Did you see that?” Teresa shouted but her voice was wasted as the intercom system lowered the volume through the built in headsets.
Spartan nodded but he was feeling less confident about this assault by the minute. The small group of craft were less than a kilometre from the Station and as they turned a little to the left Spartan was granted the perfect view of their target. At first it looked like any other moon. It was large and every part of its surface covered in structures, buildings, gantries and shipyards. It served as a colony, naval base, military barracks and transportation hub. Large parts of the colony were burning, presumably from the initial uprising and suicide attacks he had heard about on the news channels. As he watched, he noticed a streak of yellow from several sections of the surface. He squinted, trying to work out what they were before realising they were moving and heading towards them. He turned to warn Teresa but it all happened too fast. As the cloud of incoming fire bounced off the shuttle, the gunboat swung back to rejoin the formation. More fire clattered around both craft and then with a mighty orange flash the gunboat disappeared in a fireball that showered the shuttle with debris and sparks. Spartan was torn from his harness and thrown across the deck against the wall. As soon as his helmet hit the wall he was knocked out cold and slid down to the floor.
Teresa unbuckled herself and crawled along the floor to the unconscious Spartan, the buffeting shuttle shaking her about. More projectiles struck the craft and as she reached out to him three bullets tore through the hull and ripped through her right arm. The velocity of the rounds spun her around and she reached out, grabbing the harness with her left arm.
Marcus spotted the trouble and with great difficulty managed to drag himself over to Teresa. He pulled a sealant pack from the wall and carefully managed to clamp it over the wounded area and the shattered armour. It automatically sealed the gaps and re-pressurised her suit.
“Medic!” he shouted before Teresa really started to feel the pain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The most famous incident that involved the IMC was the defence of the Confederation Council during the uprising on a desert platform on the planet of Kerberos. The situation was initiated following a trade dispute between a mining company and a transportation guild. During negotiations representatives from the guild brought over four hundred mercenaries from the Rim to capture the Council’s delegation. A single platoon from the warship Spiteful defended the council members until radio contact was lost. When reinforcements arrived, it took them over an hour to work through the bodies of two hundred and twelve mercenaries until they found the bodies of the marines in the main chambers, surrounding the dead council members. It was a terrible loss for the Corps but a day that the Sixth Marine Company has honoured every year since the action. It was from this battle that the elite Guards unit was created with the very role of protecting Confederation officials.
Great Battles of the Confederate Marine Corps
At a distance from the Titan Naval Station, the bloodiest space battle in generations had been continuing for almost half an hour. The massive hulks of the old battleship CCS Victorious and the battlecruiser CCS Crusader had slowed down and were engaged in an epic duel of broadsides. Standing at a distance of several kilometres apart there was almost no chance of their weapons missing and each deadly volley killed scores of crew and smashed great chunks out of the flanks of the vessels. Both ships were trailing debris and fire could be seen at various points in their superstructures but that wasn’t anywhere near enough to stop them fighting. The CCS Crusader had placed herself carefully between the enemy vessel and the Titan Naval Station. Her powerful engines and improved mobility over the heavier, slower battleship allowed her to maintain this position, effectively blocking much of the marine assault group that was making its way to the moon.
In the Combat Information Centre, Admiral Jarvis examined the engineering displays as the battle continued around her. Every few moments she lifted her eyes to examine her deadly foe on the projection display on the main wall. By a simple piece of engineering the external camera feeds could recreate the bridge windows from within the armoured safety of the centre deep inside the ship, and it gave the impression she was actually on the bridge of the ship. The damage reports and casualty figures were astounding but so far the newest capital ship in the fleet was doing her job. General Rivers had already left the ship and transferred to the Santa Maria to help conduct the action against Titan Naval Station. Stood next to her was Commander Anderson, her executive officer.
“Admiral, we’ve taken heavy damage but all our systems are still operational. We are matched in armour and weaponry but we’re still not using our trump card, our speed,” he said.
“I know, Commander. But we have to keep all of her attention away from the Station though. As soon as General Rivers confirms the commandos’ mission, we can reconsider our options here.”
“What if we could damage her engines or at the very least reduce her ability to manoeuvre?”
“Like the Bismarck? Yes, I see what you are thinking. She was one of the German Navy’s key battleships in the Second World War. Antiquated aircraft damaged her steering, and that made her vulnerable to attack by other warships who then sank her. See what you can do, Commander, in the meantime I want every gun turned to her decks. Smash her!” she ordered.
“Admiral,” The officer replied before returning to the tactical display.
“Lieutenant Nilsson, put me through to General Rivers.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The connection was almost instant and a pang of pride made her pause for a moment as she considered the speed and quality of her crew. Under no circumstances would she simply throw away this ship and her crew.
“General Rivers, I need an update on your operation, are we on schedule?” she asked.
There was a short delay before the crackling reply came back.
“Admiral, we have star
ted the commando operation. The first landing craft have arrived at the Station and is under very heavy fire,” explained the General.
***
The loading ring on the Station was littered with debris as the first two platoons of commandos exited their damaged and scarred landing craft. Marcus and another of the commandos helped pulled Spartan and Teresa into cover next to the landing craft before fanning out with the rest of the unit to secure the landing zone. Only two craft had landed so far, the amount of defensive fire having forced the next wave of two craft to redirect to a landing zone almost a kilometre away from where they had landed. The skill of the pilots was exceptional though and the fact they had managed to land at such high speed, and in once piece, was a testament to their training. The moon had a low level of gravity and a thin atmosphere that required the use of respirators at the very minimum. Not that any of this was a problem for the marines who had training in a variety of gravity scenarios.
The landing area looked much like a waiting lounge in an airport with large open areas and lines of counters for checking in supplies or people. There was also considerable damage within the structure and obvious signs of battle from when the station was seized by the Zealot insurgents. Several heavy haulers, large wheeled vehicles, had crashed into a far wall and some improvised barricades were all that remained of the last ditch attempt to hold onto the place. The marines had fanned out as they pushed their perimeter fifty metres away from the landing craft. Almost as soon as they landed, they had seen fighters rushing out to stop them. The door gunners had held them off spectacularly but a small number of survivors were dug in at the far end of the building and pouring a withering hail of projectiles at the exposed marines. Colonel West and his squad pushed forward and took cover behind a burnt out loading truck, meanwhile the rest of the commandos kept their heads down behind any cover they could find.
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