Siege of Titan sc-1

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Loading bay is clear, I’m now moving on to the passenger section.”

  As Spartan moved slowly forward, Jesus and Peterson followed. Their engineer’s armour was bulky and slow, but they provided plenty of cover for the rest of the conventionally armoured marines to enter the craft behind them. At the end of the loading bay was a large metal blast door. To the side of the door there was a panel and a series of buttons. He moved to touch it when Peterson’s hand blocked him.

  “Sorry, Sergeant, you don’t want to press that one, it’s the cargo access panel. The passenger panel is this one,” he said.

  The marine pushed a button on the much lower panel and with a shudder the large metal door started to lift upwards. The speed was slow and Spartan took a step back in case anything came out from the gap to grab at them. As he moved back, he lowered his arms, the sharp blades waiting for anything to appear.

  “Marines, hold your fire, watch for hostiles!” ordered Spartan.

  The three at the front lowered their arms and pushed the sharp digging blades in front of them. Around the three armoured suits a number of the other marines pushed though the gaps, each one holding up their L48 carbines and rifles. After a few more seconds, the door thumped into position and revealed the large passenger area. It was designed to carry hundreds of passengers though there were no signs of people yet.

  “I can see nothing. Anybody else?” asked Jesus.

  “Wait, what’s this?” asked Spartan as he took a few steps forward.

  Several metres inside the craft were a number of crates and containers. They were stacked two or three high and filled nearly half of the entire open space. They were all strapped in with a series of thick straps, ropes and chains and gave the impression they had been loaded in a hurry. Some of them were damaged and a few of the larger ones were open. A first Spartan thought they reminded him of coffins but then he spotted the symbols on the side. Moving closer he checked the details, the first one was from a medical centre on Prime.

  “Sarge!” shouted one of the marines, as several shadows flickered across the wall to the right.

  Jesus tried to track the movement but they were too fast and disappeared behind one of the crates. He checked on his helmet-mounted display and picked up two more shapes but again, by the time he had them in his sights they vanished behind the crates.

  “Did anybody see that?” asked Peterson.

  Before anyone could answer one of the larger crates ripped open and a man-shaped object tumbled out towards the marines. Spartan stared in fascination at what looked like a flailing man as he drifted weightlessly towards them. He looked at him carefully and quickly realised the man was simply drifting, there were no signs of life or movement from him.

  “What the hell?” shouted one of the marines.

  As the body drifted towards them Spartan pushed out his armoured arms and caught the body. He pulled it closer towards him, examining it in fascinated detail.

  “I don’t get it, it is a man but look at his hands and face,” he said.

  Jesus and three of the other marines moved closer. Expanded and grotesque muscles distorted his limbs but his skull appeared thicker and extended. The man’s jaw bulged to the rear and scars ran down his cheeks. Spartan looked at his hand and noticed the thick, powerful fingers and a series of serrated blades attached to the back of the arm that extended out and past the fingers. It was like some kind of bizarre experiment that had fused weapons and a mutated beast. They looked in some of the damaged crates and could see more of the bodies.

  “I’ve got movement,” said Peterson.

  He took a step to the side, making room for more of the marines to enter. The lightly armoured marines filled the gaps and scanned the area, each holding up their firearms and looking for anything remotely hostile.

  “Okay, this isn’t good, patch me through to Captain Mathews,” said Spartan as he spoke directly to the pilot of the shuttle.

  “Mathews here, what have you found?” asked the officer.

  “I don’t know, Sir. There are bodies here but they are distorted or changed in some way. The crates say they are from bio labs on Prime. One of them is from a military base on Kerberos, how the hell did they get like that?”

  “Distorted in what way?” asked a concerned Captain Mathews.

  “The muscles are thicker, the neck and jaw are enlarged and the body here has scars down the face. They are all wearing some kind of reinforced plating, it looks almost like crude armour, Sir,” he explained.

  “Armour? I don’t like it, get your people out of there, now!” he shouted.

  Spartan stared intently at the body, trying to ascertain what madness could have created such a thing. As he looked at his face he noticed the eyes, both were bloodshot and staring straight ahead. Then he remembered, the eyes were closed a moment before. As the realisation dawned on him, the grotesque man reached and grabbed at Spartan’s face.

  “Fuck!” he screamed as he staggered backwards and crashed into the wall. More of the shapes started to move and before Spartan could even try to straighten himself the creatures were all over the marines.

  Jesus pushed himself forward, trying to stem the assault but there were simply too many of them. One crawled over his armour and then repeatedly stabbed at his helmet with a piece of twisted metal. The first strike jarred his head and the subsequent strikes forced him to lose his footing and drift inside the craft. He waved his left arm, desperately trying to knock the crazy man from his armour.

  The regular marines opened fire where they could, each burst of fire ripping into the rough armour of the enemy. The metal absorbed much of the impact, but the marines’ fire was accurate and continuous. Four of the creatures were killed outright, but their wounded kept coming. One spun off the ceiling and swung both of its arms as it tried to hack at the marines. One of its blades took a chunk out of a marine’s face as the second became stuck in another’s chest.

  Peterson, seeing the terrible carnage all around, stomped forward and using his armoured digging tools on his arms managed to cut a swathe through the group. One flew from the wall and grabbed at his right arm. He took three steps and then crushed it hard against the side of the transport. It howled and released him long enough for his right fist to force his blade deep into the thing’s throat. Blood pumped out and drifted in thick blobs through the boat.

  Spartan pushed himself up, slamming his metal arm hard into his attacker.

  “Marines, back to the shuttle!” he cried.

  As they retreated the creatures continued their attack, each one biting, tearing and hacking at anything they could reach. Jesus and three marines were struggling under a mass of the creatures and Spartan tried desperately to reach him. One marine was cut clean in half right before him and another was tossed aside like a rag. He grabbed Jesus and yanked him away from the mass of blood and gore. One of them tried to grab at his face but Spartan’s left arm held its neck and neatly snapped it in two. He looked back at Jesus, noting the holes and damage across the armour. He kept moving back towards the access hatch with the surviving commandos provided covering fire. As they fell back into the shuttle one of the marines hit the large red seal button on the wall and the airlock doors slammed down.

  Spartan staggered two more paces and then stopped. His breathing was laboured and his armour was splattered in blood, though how much was theirs and how much belonged to the marines he didn’t know.

  “We’re clear!” he shouted into his intercom.

  The pilot was obviously waiting for the signal and in seconds they had broken free and were accelerating from the transport and its deadly crew.

  As Spartan pulled himself out of his armour, Teresa grabbed him.

  “Are you okay, are you hurt?” she asked in a desperate tone.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry,” he said as he looked at the pitiful remnants of the mission.

  “A lot of us didn’t come back,” he said in a grim tone.

  Teresa searched the faces o
f the marines who had made it back.

  “Where is Jesus?” she cried. Spartan simply turned his head.

  ***

  In the medical bay of the Santa Maria scores of marines were undergoing emergency medical aid. Teresa was on one of the examination beds while a medic examined her shoulder.

  “You were very lucky, the aid pack stopped the bleeding and the bone is only partially damaged. I’ve applied a temporary seal and the pins will need to stay in until the tissue sealant kicks in. You’ll need to return in thirty-six hours for me to remove the pins,” she said before turning to wave another injured marine forward.

  Teresa stood up and Spartan helped her put her jacket back on.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better, it could be a lot worse though,” she replied.

  The two walked along the main corridor and into the mess hall to find mass celebrations going on. News of the final victories had spread through the ships and it was clearly going down well. Two more cruisers had just arrived and the rumour was that army transports wouldn’t be far behind. After hours of bloody combat, both in space and on the stations, the battle was finally over. With the civilians rescued, the Fleet had moved into a high orbit and established a strong blockade over the planet.

  Spartan was moving ahead and towards the marines when he spotted Captain Mathews and a few of the commands chatting near a computer terminal. The officer quickly spotted Spartan and waved him over. The two walked over as the din from the rest of the marines continued in the background.

  “How is the shoulder, Private?” Captain Mathews asked Teresa.

  “It is pretty stiff. They will be looking at it tomorrow, right now they’ve got many more serious injuries to deal with. It’s not life threatening, just a real bitch!” she said.

  “Glad to hear that,” he said before turning to Spartan.

  “I’m sorry about your boarding party, it was a tough call but we had to know who was on board. How many of you got back?” he asked with a concerned look.

  “I lost seven marines back there plus the rest have got a variety of wicked injuries. I don’t know what those things were but they came from somewhere and nothing would stop them, Sir,” he said quietly.

  Captain Mathews was watching the marine’s camera feeds on his tablet as Spartan continued to talk. The picture was fuzzy and showed little detail on the attackers as they moved constantly in the darkness.

  “Well, we’ve been hearing rumours from Prime about various things going on at the Bone Mill as well as other Zealot strongholds through the Confederation. It’s a shame you weren’t able to bring any of them back for study. Still, your video feeds will be better than nothing.”

  “Better than nothing? What the…” Teresa shouted, but Spartan lifted his arm, gently keeping her away from the officer.

  “That wasn’t the way I meant it, I have nothing but respect for the tremendous work and sacrifice you have all given. You have done the Corps and your unit proud. I’ve recommended you all to the General and I know he has something big planned..” he said before being interrupted.

  “Have you seen the news?” shouted a marine as he ran past.

  Teresa turned and watched him join a growing number of the crowd clustered around the large screens in the hall. Each screen was several metres wide and could be seen from halfway down the room. The sound in the room started to drop as more of the marines quietened, each of them enthralled by the video feeds.

  “Come on,” said Spartan.

  He moved off to examine the large screens and whatever news was getting all the attention. Teresa, Captain Mathews and the rest of the commandos followed him. As they reached the screens they stopped, each of them too busy watching to speak.

  The screens were showing three repeating feeds, all of them from ground units in the trenches around the Bone Mill. A voice running over the top explained the material had been received in the last hour. The first screen shook quite badly and it was evident that the camera was mounted on a soldier somewhere. From the view, a group of five soldiers stood chatting when a series of explosions blurred the view. As the feed refocused and the dust cleared the other soldiers were getting up off the ground, though the man carrying the camera must have been hurt or killed as the camera remained stationary and on its side. A series of streaks moved past the camera and one of the soldiers waved his arms before a large number of hooded figures leapt into the trench. Each of the figures carried evil looking edged weapons and proceeded to slash and hack at the soldiers. Only one of them managed to get off a shot before he was knocked down and decapitated right in front of the camera.

  An audible gasp rushed through the group of marines as they watched the Confederation soldiers being cut down in such a brutal and callous way. More Confed troops moved into the trench to try and retake it but even though they slaughtered dozens of the enemy, sheer weight of numbers pushed them back until the video feed showed nothing but crowds of the hooded, sinister figures.

  They started to chatter when the second feed showed the terrible scale of what was happening. The feed said it was from an aerial reconnaissance drone directly above the Bone Mill. All around the perimeter a series of flashes and explosions signalled the start of the assault. From all across the structure swarms of the men came out in a bloody charge. The camera zoomed in to show at least ten of them leaping past soldiers as they were firing weapons and hacking with axes and blades.

  The final feed was from a fixed camera mount on a vehicle near the battle. As the attackers moved in the camera zoomed in and paused on a group of three of them. The nearest one was biting into the shoulder of a soldier and another was in the middle of cutting down a fleeing civilian. Both were wearing a motley collection of metal plated armour that covered various parts of the body. It wasn’t pretty but certainly did the job of making them look terrible and dangerous.

  “What the fuck is that?” shouted one of the watching marines.

  “Zealot bastards!” shouted another.

  Spartan was in shock, the attackers were exactly the same as the ones he had just been fighting on the transport. He turned to the Captain who was transfixed by the screens.

  “Sir, that is what we found on the transport. They are strong, really strong and they can take a lot of punishment. Those soldiers aren’t going to stand a chance,” he said.

  Captain Mathews reached down and pulled out his tablet. He looked at it, whatever he saw drained the blood from his face and within a few seconds he was already moving away from them.

  “I need to go, Sergeant, we’ll be in touch,” he said before rushing off along with his group of commandos.

  Spartan and Teresa looked at each other, before they could speak the loudspeakers throughout the hall burst into noise.

  “This is Admiral Jarvis. Congratulations on an excellent operation. I can confirm that the stations have been neutralised and Confed forces are back in control of this sector!” she said. There was a short pause before she continued but in a much slower and more sombre tone.

  “As you have probably heard, a massive and coordinated planet-wide offensive has begun on the surface of Prime. Initial reports say over ten thousand fighters have already broken out from the Bone Mill and more are appearing from underground facilities across the surface. We do not have clear information on the attackers but they have already overrun three army barracks and one marine brigade is conducting a fighting withdrawal to the Carlos spaceport. Infantry reinforcements are due to arrive in three hours. The marine battle group is being placed in reserve whilst it is re-equipped and re-supplied at the Kerberos naval yard. The rest of the Fleet will maintain the blockade around Prime and provide humanitarian assistance where required.”

  More feeds from the planet showed the terrible carnage the horribly altered, or mutated, people were causing. They used firearms but when they were close enough they seemed to delight in using edged weapons and even worse, they were able and willing to use their hands and teeth
to literally tear people apart. It was foul and sickening and an enemy that made the Zealots pale into insignificance.

  Teresa turned to Spartan as the marines around them erupted in excited shouting and arguments. “What the hell are they?”

  Spartan said nothing. He just stood there dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe that there were more of those things still around. Based on the massive strength and capacity for absorbing damage he could already see the threat they posed. Finally he spoke.

  “They must be a new weapon the Zealots have been working on, they are stronger and more dangerous than any man I’ve had to face, we’ve got a big, big problem.”

  A marine officer pushed through the throng of people, handing out papers before reaching Spartan, he looked at Teresa and then back to Spartan.

  “Sergeant Spartan?” he asked. Spartan nodded, saying nothing.

  “I have papers from Captain Mathews. It says you are to join these marines on the Santa Cruz as part of the new Commando Company. You need to be fast, they are shipping out in twenty minutes.”

  “Commando Company, what about me?” asked Teresa.

  The officer showed her the list, she spotted her name on the paper. “That’s me,” she said.

  “Ah, yeah, it says you’re to go too, you need to report to your new commander when you get to the Cruz,” he said before turning to head back to the mass of marines.

  “Wait!” shouted Teresa as she grabbed the officer’s arm. He turned but looked flustered at being grabbed.