Siege of Titan (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

The rec room was packed as the recruits spent their limited free time relaxing and chatting before moving on to yet another drill or exercise. The room was about twenty metres long and contained chairs, a few tables on one side and a set of computer displays. A steady batch of recruits took turns to make use of the time to contact loved ones or simply chat to anybody other than the same faces they saw every day.

  Spartan, Jesus, Marcus and Teresa were sitting around one of the tables. Marcus and Jesus were arguing whilst the others looked on in amusement.

  “Bullshit, little man.” Marcus laughed as he spun his computer tablet in front of him. “No way can a man in this old metal armour be able to move and fight like that, no dammed way!”

  Jesus waved his hand and brought up a video sequence showing a man in a substantial metal suit of armour. He was covered from head to toe and wielded a huge sword that was almost as tall as the man himself.

  “Look, it says here the armoured knight could fight on foot or horseback and that the sword was well balanced, agile and could even be held in the middle when fighting armour,” said Jesus.

  “Look, you put that much metal on a man and all you can do is just stand there and not get hurt. I’d bet good money that most of that gear is ceremonial shit, nothing to do with combat.”

  Teresa frowned at them both before turning to Spartan.

  “You’ve used more armour than anybody else, what do you think?”

  Jesus spun the tablet around so Spartan could get a good look at the armour. He examined it in detail, moving the image around so he could see it from all sides and even zooming in to look at the thickness.

  “Yeah, it could be done,” he said dismissively.

  “Ok, genius, would you like to expand on that?” asked a dubious Marcus.

  “Not really,” said a grinning Spartan.

  “So we should just take your word for it then?”

  “You should, Jesus, but something tells me you’re not going to.”

  “Come on, man, tell us why you think this huge lump of metal is anything more than some fancy outfit for a rich dude.” Jesus said as he settled back into his chair.

  “Don’t make the assumption that just because this gear is old it wasn’t designed for a purpose. Some armour is ceremonial, other is for combat and some armour fits somewhere in the middle. Armour has been used since biblical times and we’re still using it today.”

  “Nice speech, granddad. Is that it?”

  “Alright, Marcus, if you insist.” He took in a lung full of air.

  “Look at the armour first of all. Yes, it has embellishments but not overly so. The joints are in the same places we have for our personal armour. The thickness of the metal is much less than you would expect for something designed to protect your body. Look at the fluting, the angles and the extra plating to protect the joints. See the vulnerable gaps, like the armpit, there’s extra flexible chainmail. This is the work of a man, maybe many men that are expert craftsmen and experts in their trade.” He moved away from the image and then displayed another similar suit of armour.

  “Look at this one. It is a little later and much less ornate. The description here says it’s munitions grade armour. That is basically the equivalent of the kind of stuff we have. Note all the joints and plates are in the same place. Yes, the metal isn’t as pretty and it doesn’t have the fancy fittings, but to all intents and purposes it does exactly the same job.”

  “Yeah, so you say. But what about in practice? Can you move, duck and cut with a weapon wearing that.”

  “Why not, Marcus? When I was fighting we used all kinds of armour. Back then it was just as important to put on a good display as it was to protect parts of the body. When you are fighting for your life you will push yourself further than at any other time. Yes, armour and padding will slow you down and wear you out, but you practice as much as possible to reduce the problem. I’ve worn body armour that probably weighed a lot more than anything you’ve shown me there. As for that weapon, look at the blade and at the craftsmanship. Don’t assume for a moment that it wasn’t a deadly weapon.”

  He leaned back with a look of self-satisfaction. Teresa smiled but added nothing as she watched Marcus and Jesus for their reactions.

  “Yeah, if you say so. The weapon, come on, no fucking way!” Marcus said.

  “In my experience weapons are very much designed around the kind of enemy you expect to face. If you’re fighting unarmoured people then something that can cut will work fine. If they are wearing thicker clothing or armour you’ll need something that is better for penetration. A spear point will pierce armour more easily than the edge of a sword, also don’t forget,” he added before being interrupted.

  A loud sound came from the end of the room followed by a commotion as though somebody had just dropped something valuable. Spartan instantly stopped talking and turned to the direction of the noise.

  “Hey, have you seen this?” came a cry from the end of the rec room.

  A number of the recruits started to move to the end with just a few of them staying where they were. One woman waved her hands as she accessed visual feeds and then moved a selection to the entire section of the shorter wall. The video feeds split up into one large view plus a dozen smaller ones, all showing the latest news feeds. Spartan and Teresa joined them, Jesus stood up on his chair to look over the crowd. With the amount of noise from the recruits Spartan couldn’t make out the voice on the report. He moved closer, brushing aside the few people not listening.

  “The fuckers have captured Titan Naval Station! They are saying it is another Pearl Harbor!” shouted one of the men excitedly.

  “No way, man, that’s bullshit!” replied another.

  “Who?” Yet another shouted.

  “The Zealots, they’ve done it this time, they’ve hit the biggest naval station in the sector! How the fuck can we get to the planet if they’ve taken control of Titan?” cried a tall man in the middle of the crowd.

  Spartan was now close enough and could see the story for himself. The video showed the massive base, along the top and bottom the scrolling ticker detailed facts and figures. The first to catch his attention was that it confirmed terrorists had captured the loading station and dock. Even more worrying was the section that explained how three transports, one of them a massive cargo vessel, had been crashed in a massive suicide attack on the naval facilities there crippling several vessels, as well as destroying much of the marine barracks.

  “That’s our biggest station in the system. Last I heard there were about two million people there,” Spartan said.

  “Not just the people, that’s the home of the local fleet, it’s our drop-off point in less than a month for fuck’s sake. They’re saying the terrorists have crippled the Resolution and taken control of Victorious, that’s a fucking battleship, man!” Someone called out.

  “That isn’t possible,” said Teresa, “no way could a ship that big be taken over by half-trained terrorists.”

  She turned her tablet around and brought up a rotating image of the warship. Along the one side were columns of data. “Come on, it says there are always at least three hundred marines on board the Victorious as well as her crew.”

  “Maybe they had help from the inside?” suggested Jesus.

  “There must be other ships in the area!” Marcus suggested.

  Spartan moved nearer to one of the secondary displays and scrolled though more stories. His heart was pounding because one thing experience had taught him was that when things went wrong, they usually ended up on his lap. On the second screen, he had the official information from Naval Intelligence that confirmed much of what was in the news. It was incredible. He took a few breaths before turning back to Marcus and Teresa. As he started to speak a number of the other recruits crowded in to listen.

  “The latest Intel confirms that the fighting on Proxima Prime has expanded to the eleven transit stations and that a full scale rebellion at the Titan Naval Station is underway. One Admiral has
either been assassinated or may be involved. The shipyard was hit first, then the garrison. A dozen ships escaped but several warships are unaccounted for and they are holding over one thousand military personnel hostage on the Station.

  “What about the civilians?” asked one of the recruits.

  “Some managed to escape on freighters and ferry vessels but most are still trapped there.”

  “No way, man, no fucking way!” Jesus was watching the burning buildings on the main screen. The volume was turned up so they could hear the story from the reporters at the scene.

  “Three hours ago over a dozen co-ordinated attacks in the capital destroyed the parliament building and the central stock exchange. Fires are still burning at the headquarters of the Council Chambers,” said the voice.

  “Fuck me, did you see the residential zone?” asked Teresa.

  Jesus stepped to one of the small feeds and moved back to the cameras pointing into the residential area. On this part of the city were scores of tower blocks, some reaching nearly two hundred metres tall and featuring beautiful spires pointing up in the sky. One of the buildings was ablaze and the top third of another had collapsed. The ticker along the bottom said over eight hundred people were trapped in the burning building.

  As the recruits watched a series of additional explosions ripped across the city as more buildings were hit until columns of smoke and bright flashes could be seen in all directions. Overhead a multitude of rescue craft rushed around, landing on buildings to evacuate people while others were trying to fight the fires.

  The door to the room opened and in walked the Drill Sergeant. The recruits all stood to attention though nobody remembered to switch off the displays. He marched in, flanked by two of his men. As he moved along the room he stopped and stared at the displays, the glow of the fires reflecting on his face before he gave a hand gesture to his two marines. They moved forward and deactivated them, throwing the area into silence.

  “You have all seen we are in a real situation here. As of one hour ago the insurgents on Proxima Prime announced their intentions to spread a holy war through every moon and colony in the Confederation. So far it has spread to most of the cities on the planet and three Titan Stations, including Titan Naval Station. This is serious shit, if Confed doesn’t respond fast we could be cut off from Proxima Prime and that leaves the civilians completely exposed.”

  One of the marines at his side passed him a tablet that was glowing with scrolling data and images. He looked at it and then at the recruits.

  “As of fifteen minutes ago Confed military forces have been put on full alert. This policing action has been officially designated a warzone and we are in the damned middle. The Zealots have been declared enemy combatants and we are authorised to use all weapons and forces at our disposal to end this emergency, once and for all! Today is the first day of the Proxima Emergency and we will see it through to the end!”

  Several of the recruits cheered but most were silent, waiting for the rest of his news, each convinced that there was something much bigger and much worse waiting for them.

  “When you joined most of you were going to end up on the front lines fighting on the northern continent of Prime. It was supposed to be the last stronghold of this bastardised radicalised movement. We’ve been treating this as a glorified policing action to keep the civilians calm and the politicians happy. Bullshit! It hasn’t worked and now it is spreading fast. We were wrong, seriously wrong,” he said ominously.

  He started to pace in front of the assembled Marines.

  “We should have learnt our lesson from the last war, religion and politics breeds problems. You all know what happened with Carthago and Terra Nova don’t you?”

  The recruits fidgeted, uncomfortable at the question and not one lifted their hands. The Drill Instructor looked as though he was about to blow a fuse when Teresa spoke.

  “My family are from Carthago, Sir.”

  He marched up and stopped directly in front of her, examining her carefully from head to toe.

  “Name?”

  “Recruit Teresa Morato, Sir!”

  “Tell me, what do you know about the last war? Who started it?”

  “I, uh, I don’t know, Sir. It was something to do with colonisation of Proxima I think.”

  The Drill Instructor appeared to relax slightly in front of the marines.

  “Exactly. The problems started when the two largest colonies, the conservative farming planet Carthago and the industrious Terra Nova, disagreed on colonising Proxima. The arguments were long and complicated but it ended with their friends and allies fighting though the System. This has happened many times in the past. The main factions sit back and let their allies do the work until one day, when the tide starts to turn, the two big players have to wade in.”

  “Tell me, Recruit Morato. How would you describe Carthago today, after all the years of war and strife?”

  “It is a poor planet. Most of the cities were levelled in the Great War and many are still in a bad way. There are frequent terrorist actions and it is the most violent colony outside of the stations around Prometheus.”

  “What about religion?”

  “Most are underground and meet in secret. The major sects were banned or abandoned the colony during the exodus after the war.”

  The Drill Instructor stood upright and looked around the group for anyone else.

  “Who has been to Terra Nova?”

  Several hands went up and like a lurcher he moved in to one of the nervous looking men at the back.

  “Name?”

  “Recruit John Jenkins, Sir.”

  “You look pretty, you a Doctor or something?” he asked sarcastically.

  “My family run a factory on Terra. I studied there before enlisting, Sir.”

  The Drill Instructor shook his head in despair.

  “Look what my beloved Corps has been forced to turn to. Tell me, Recruit Jenkins, what is Terra Nova like?”

  “It is the richest and most cosmopolitan colony in the Confederacy. There are people and money and all kinds of opportunities.”

  “Religion?”

  “It is practiced but not the same as on Carthago. It is more of a meditation circle or social club on Terra. The old religions of Carthago are thought to be barbaric and ancient, religions for the common, bestial man.”

  The Drill Instructor nodded in agreement.

  “There you have it. Even today we have different people, different values and religion is at the core. The biggest mistake we made was driving the old religions underground. Now we can see they are stronger, more numerous and violent than before. Look at Terra Nova. Peaceful, soft and rich while the angry and backward world of Carthago continues to rot. This is the world you are about to face. It is cruel and full of intolerance. You will be Marines and you will uphold the traditions and values of the Corps and the Confederacy that thousands died to create. Do you get me?”

  “We get you Sir!” came the chorus back to him.

  He walked along the recruits, looking at each of them in turn with a look of satisfaction on his face.

  “Every one of you has passed basic training and you are already three-quarters though the commando course. You have done well, damned well and I would be proud to take any of you into action with me.”

  The group were obviously surprised, this being the first praise they’d ever heard from him.

  “We have changed course and will be meeting with the Fleet assembling on the Rim. We will arrive in less than a week. After that we head for the Titan stations and the war. I can’t tell you how long this fight will go on for or how difficult it will be. What I can tell you is that in one week, whether you like it or not, you will be marines and you will be baptised in fire and finally earn your title of marines!”

  A cheer rang out through the room as the Sergeant paced back and forth. It went on for almost a minute before he ordered them to stop.

  “I don’t know the exact details yet but I do know
that Confed will aim to stop this revolt and fast. The Titan stations control all access to Prime and if we lose Prime we lose the most important planet in the entire System. I need you to work hard and get yourselves ready. Whatever you’ve been doing, do more. Only some of you will have completed the full commando training but that isn’t going to keep you from combat. I will be assigning those of you that pass the course specific duties when the time comes but for now remember, every marine is a rifleman and you will perform your duty the same as every other marine.

  “You will all assemble in the aft training hall in thirty minutes, it is time for your zero-g squad exercise and based on the news you have all just heard you are going to want to get lots of zero-g time in. This will be the up-scaled version of last week’s exercise. There is already a full company of recruits from Bravo Company getting dug in. It will be your job to clear the training course of all hostiles with minimal casualties. Full briefing in thirty minutes.”

  He walked to the door and turned back.

  “Hoorah!” he shouted, instantly followed by an enthusiastic response from the recruits.