Siege of Titan (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

The guns were silent and like a swarm of locusts the assault transports and shuttles from the Santa Maria and the Santa Cruz filled the gulf between the ships and the Titan Naval Station. A total of sixteen hundred heavily equipped marines were spread in over thirty craft. The transports were the largest, each one carrying a full company of marines and their heavy weapons. The shuttles brought in small, more specialist squads as well as equipment and medical supplies. Another hundred marines were waiting onboard the Santa Cruz as a quick response team in case of emergencies. As they approached the Station they split into small groups, each one targeting key parts of the complex where survivors were likely to be. As the craft reached a kilometre from the Station a small amount of defensive fire erupted, primarily from small arms and a handful of larger calibre weapons. No craft were lost and within seconds the first wave crashed down on the surface and released the eager troops.

  At the Command Centre, Spartan and the surviving commandos had done sterling work though they had no time to enjoy it. So far, they had brought the guns down and the Station’s computer systems were being used to pinpoint the surviving population. They had already transmitted the life sign scans of the habitation and naval facilities, but there was no way to determine whether they were friendly or hostile. That was something the advancing marines would have to discover for themselves.

  There was still sporadic gunfire outside the Command Centre but with the late arrival of the third commando squad they had been able to establish a strong perimeter to protect the site. The engineers were also still moving chunks of masonry to reinforce their position until they were able to leave. With the arrival of the missing squad was also Lieutenant Daniels, a young but aggressive officer whom Spartan had never seen before. He had immediately taken charge of the situation and had shown a degree of deference to Spartan and the work of his group.

  “Captain Mathews here, we have evacuated Colonel West and most of your wounded by shuttlecraft,” came a transmission to the Lieutenant.

  “Thank you, Sir, we are well entrenched but are still under sporadic attack,” he explained.

  “I have four companies of marines making their way to you. You can’t leave yet though, I have orders from General Rivers. From the data sent over by Private Spartan it would appear the closest habitation section to you is housing approximately two hundred people. Can you put him on, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  “Sir, I have the data right here,” replied the officer as he lowered his voice, obviously trying to keep the conversation to himself.

  “No, I need it from the source and as I understand it, Spartan and his unit have been working through the data for the last twenty minutes!” he said and his tone was becoming strained.

  “Uh, yes, Sir, one moment,” said the officer as he was walking back along the corridor and into the large computer suite.

  “Spartan, Captain Mathews for you,” he said.

  Spartan was slumped in a large chair as he worked through the screen of data. Jesus was in his element and had already patched in the security feeds and climate control monitors to help gauge the level of people and resistance at key points in the Station. He was currently tracing a series of energy spikes in the Station power plant and so far none of them could work out why they were happening or where large segments of the power was being sent. Spartan hit the button on his built-in intercom, instantly patching him into the radio conversation.

  “Spartan here, how can I help you, Sir?”

  “Spartan, we’ve secured the first survivors and are moving into the zones you’ve provided the data for. I’ve received word from the General that suggests the energy surges you’ve identified are coming from the fusion plants in the naval yard,” he explained.

  Spartan turned to Jesus.

  “Jesus, can you bring up the power schematics of the naval yard and forward them to the General?” he asked.

  “Doing it!” Jesus replied as he skimmed through the screen on his terminal.

  As Spartan turned around, he wondered to himself where the man’s computing skills had come from and why he was in the Marine Corps. Of course, it was pretty simple though, a man who could work these systems could earn a fortune both legitimately or otherwise. He had no doubts on the direction Jesus would have taken. He allowed himself a small grin as he called back to the Captain.

  “Captain, we’re sending the data to the General, I think you might be right, though. It seems there is a lot of energy building up. You think they have something down there?” he asked.

  “One moment, Spartan, we’ll be with you shortly, please let the Lieutenant have your men hold your fire, we’re approaching your compound,” said the Captain.

  Spartan lifted himself up from the chair and bounded towards the damaged doorway.

  “Lieutenant, the marines are here, Captain Mathews has asked you ensure our men watch their fire.”

  The two men went outside and to the improvised firing line where the commandos had established a strong outer perimeter. Spartan dropped down behind the rubble and scanned the distant debris. He could see the odd movement as the insurgents redeployed in their attempts to work their way around them. As he watched a smoke trail rush towards them and crashed into the side of the Command Centre. The blast tore a hole several metres wide and brought a pile of dust and debris down into the outer compound.

  Spartan picked up his reloaded L48 rifle and fired a series of short bursts, each cluster of rounds striking at any point where the muzzle flashes appeared. A group of four Zealots broke cover, attempting to close the distance, but the impact from the large calibre shells slammed the first to the floor. As he dropped the first man to the ground two more bullets exploded at the preset distance sending shards of metal into the torsos of the other three.

  More groups appeared from their hiding places as if a number of beaters were moving prey to the waiting hunters. Then a series of yellow flashes and a great cloud of dust signalled the arrival of the rest of the marines. As they came from out of the rubble Spartan could see scores of the men bounding forward towards the Command Centre. In the centre of the group a man carried a small flexible regimental standard. It was a bizarre look of modern personal protection suits and archaic symbols of a medieval battlefield. The horde of marines easily cut their way through the disorganised Zealots and moved up and around the Command Centre. A small group led by the Captain approached Lieutenant Daniels who immediately stood to attention and saluted. He looked to his side, looking at the perimeter and the dirt and blood-splattered commandos.

  “Sterling work, people, outstanding!” he said beaming.

  Teresa appeared at the entrance of the building, shouting over to Spartan.

  “We’ve got a problem!” she shouted and then ducked back inside.

  Spartan turned from the firing line and rushed in through the doorway, closely followed by the two officers. As they moved towards the computer room, the first thing that was evident was that half the displays and computer systems were offline. As they watched a number of the screens shutdown.

  “We’re losing them, one by one,” Jesus said as he frantically tried to isolate several of the systems before the lot went down.

  Crackling in their headsets signalled a message from General Rivers.

  “All company commanders, this is an urgent message. We are detecting explosions in the main reactor cores. According to our calculations, the insurgents are triggering a station-wide series of explosions that will destroy it. You have no more than forty minutes to get your people and as many survivors off as possible. I repeat, you have forty minutes to evacuate. We’re sending every shuttle we can find to you. Get out of there!” he barked.

  Captain Mathews rubbed his jaw as he considered the situation.

  “General, what is the status on the civilian population?” he asked.

  “So far we have taken off sixty-two percent of those we are aware of. There are still three habitation zones, including yours, left to clear. We have spotted insurgents all a
round your position, expect heavy resistance if you try to reach them, just don’t be late!” said the General.

  “Can we do it?” asked the Captain.

  “We can’t clear the habitation area and get back to the landing craft in forty minutes, we have to choose one or the other,” answered Spartan.

  “How about we wait at the habitation zone for reinforcements to pick us up?” Lieutenant Daniels asked.

  “You’re assuming there is anybody that can reach us in time,” replied the Captain before calling to the Santa Maria.

  “General, how long till those reinforcements get here?”

  “We have a final shuttle group on its way, it will be landing in approximately thirty minutes.”

  “Can you redirect everybody to the Central Habitation Zone Plaza? There is enough space to land shuttles and we can evacuate the entire section from there,” asked the Captain.

  “Interesting, yes, it should be possible. I’ll see if I can get a few transports to redirect to you, good luck, Captain.”

  “There won’t be enough transports to take off all the marines and the civilians,” said Lieutenant Daniels.

  “There is another option,” said Spartan.

  “All squad commanders prepare to move out,” said the Captain before turning to Spartan. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “Give the Lieutenant one of your companies to clear the route back and get the landing craft. If they can do it in less than thirty minutes, they can get the rest of the landing craft and meet us at the central plaza. That should give us enough capacity to load the civilians and get out of here.”

  “Can you get back with one company?” asked the Captain.

  “Yes, Sir, no problem,” replied Lieutenant Daniels.

  The Captain thought about the plan but only for a few seconds, decisive action was needed.

  “Okay, Lieutenant, make your way back and get the boats to the plaza.”

  Daniels turned and ran outside, though he was a lower rank than would be expected, he was a commando junior officer and the marines instantly recognised him as such. It was just seconds before the company were moving away and back towards the landing craft.

  “Ok, Spartan, the rest of us will split into three groups, I’ll take the two main groups directly to the habitation zone, it’s two, three minutes tops from here. I want you to take two squads plus the rest of your commandos and take the right sector. You’ll be entering through the ruined bar and then hit them from the side. Get in there hard and fast, we don’t have much time,” he said.

  “They aren’t my men,” Spartan said as he prepared his gear.

  “They are now, Spartan, I’m giving you a temporary field promotion to Sergeant, now get going!” he said with a grin.

  “Sir!” shouted Spartan before turning to see a grinning Jesus staring at him.