* * *
With a mighty flash all four entrances to the habitation zone lit up. The flash bangs were commonly used before an assault but not usually in this quantity. The Captain was taking no chances and as the dust settled, his unit charged through the gaps. The defending Zealots were momentarily taken by surprise and the marines were able to fight through the first line and work their way into the open area. Shots from above picked off a handful but their fire was not enough to hold back the tide. With the flash bangs being the signal, Spartan and his commandos rushed in from the rubble of the bar and moved into flanking positions. The expert marksmanship of the commandos quickly stopped the snipers and with their flanks protected, the rest moved in and targeted the Zealots guarding the civilians. A number of them turned on them, gunning down as many as they could before the marines were able to stop them. It was bloody work but luckily the commandos were fast and efficient and they were able to cut down the guards before too many of the civilians paid the price.
As the first groups were led to the safety of the landing shuttles and transports, Spartan and his squad kept pushing forward. A room at the end of the open space was showing on his scanner as holding a large number of people and he could hear screams coming from inside. Jesus made it first but as he ran inside a great shotgun blast blew him right back out of the door. His armoured suit protected him from the worst effects of the shot but it was still enough to put him out of the fight for a few seconds. Spartan pulled up next to the doorway and Teresa took the other side. He popped his head around the corner briefly and back again.
“Looks like three guys behind the table and about twenty to thirty hostages,” he said over his radio.
“Drop your weapons, soldier, and come in!” came a voice from inside.
“Fuck you!” Spartan shouted.
“Do it, or we start shooting!” the man shouted back.
Spartan placed his weapon on the ground and slipped into the open, walking slowly into the room. As he entered he could see the three masked men, each wearing the armour and garb of the Zealots. They carried bladed weapons and one wore an explosive vest. In his hand he held a trigger device of some kind.
“Show us your hands!” shouted the man with the vest.
Spartan lifted his hands, pushing them forward so they could see them. In his right hand he held a flash grenade and in his left he held a detached pin. He tilted his left hand and the pin dropped to the floor. As the three men spotted the weapon, a look of fear spread over their eyes. The man stood to the right took a step back, pointing at the pin.
“Pick it up, do it now!”
Spartan leaned forward a little, looking for a moment as though he was complying. As he moved, the grenade dropped from his hand and started to roll towards the men. The man with the vest looked to his two comrades. Just as the grenade reached their feet it ignited, the bright flash filling the room and instantly blinding those without protection. As the men lifted their hands to protect their eyes, Spartan lowered his hand and pulled out his combat knife. With lightning fast reaction, he threw it ahead and struck the suicide bomber directly in the forehead. He slumped backwards, dead before he hit the ground. Spartan didn’t wait though and leapt ahead, smashing his elbow into the second man. As his arm connected, Teresa entered the room with her L48 rifle raised to her shoulder. She fired two rounds into the third man’s chest and then another to his head as he was blown backwards. She turned to her left in time to see Spartan snap the neck of the man. It was over as soon as it had started. He looked up at the group of crying civilians, they had been there weeks and looked terrified. Holding out his arm, he beckoned them to him. More commandos entered through the door and helped lead them out and to the waiting shuttles and transports.
“Captain, area secure, we’re coming out,” said Spartan with a feeling of satisfaction.
The fires were already spreading and as the last of the shuttles left a series of explosions ripped through the naval yard. By the time Spartan’s shuttle reached a safe distance over half of the craft were already onboard the two marine transports. As usual, there was no sound as they moved away but it was clear from the smoke, fires and flashes that the surface of the Station was slowly being ripped apart from the inside. It was a selfish and cruel way to deny the Naval Station to the Confederation but at least they had eliminated the blockade and rescued most of the civilians. When the fires cleared, they would return and Titan would be rebuilt.
Siege of Titan (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 1) Page 36
