Fall of Terra Nova

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Good first mission, Spartan.”

  The Jötnar lifted their weapons and howled in delight at their bloody victory. Spartan watched them and found against his better instincts that he wanted to do just the same. He lifted his arms and joined in with the celebration.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Proxima Emergency proved finally that the battleship class was far from obsolete. The speed of CCS Crusader allowed her to get into and out of trouble quickly. The single inarguable issue, however, was that only a modern battleship could stand its ground over a long period. Thick armour, redundant systems and heavy weapons were of more value long term than high speed. Luckily, for the single ship in the battlecruiser class, its armour and weapons was easily a match for the previous and much older generation of battleship. The real question remaining is, what will the battleships of the future look like?

  Origins of the Battlecruiser

  Spartan was feeling good for a change. He had just left a meeting with the senior commanders on CCS Santa Cruz and been commended for a change. Even the damning report from Captain Hobbs hadn’t been able to diminish the bloody victory he had won. Casualties had been lighter than expected, but there had still been a number of deaths. Most of the Jötnar wounded were already recovering. The Vanguards had sustained substantial equipment losses and four dead. It was a costly endeavour, but the rewards had been great. It was the capture of over twenty Zealots that had given the Assault Battalion its first battle honour and commendation by the Colonel. As he walked down the corridor, he noticed almost every marine stepped back. It might have been out of respect, but more likely it was the fact that two heavily scarred Jötnar warriors flanked him and Sergeant Lovett.

  “Spartan, why a commendation?” asked Gun.

  Spartan was surprised. He hadn’t realised the concept would appear alien to him. Going back to school, the idea of awards or commendations was the thing that pushed them all to excel in contests and sports.

  “It is a sign of respect by the commander of our ground forces. Every unit here knows the Assault Battalion has been recognised for its skill and bravery in battle.”

  “We are Jötnar. Do they not already know this?”

  “True. It isn’t the warriors though, it is the battalion.”

  They walked for a little longer.

  “Vanguards and Jötnar?” he asked, his voice giving the impression he was still a little unsure.

  “Yes.”

  Khan nodded, finally looking as though he understood, even if Gun wasn’t completely convinced.

  “So now Vanguards and Jötnar are one?”

  Spartan nodded.

  “Yes, well, I hope so.”

  They reached the entrance to the canteen to find it blocked by a throng of marines who were busy arguing over some minor issue. As they approached the group, none of them moved to give way. One finally spotted Spartan, or more specifically spotted his uniform, and whispered something to the others. In seconds, the group had split either side of the doorway to give them space. Spartan walked on and proceeded to the doorway, but Khan stopped in the middle of the throng.

  “What you argue about?” he asked in his dull, emotionless tone.

  “Why do you want to know?” asked a young looking marine with a skull tattoo on his cheek. Spartan turned back and looked at the man.

  “He wants to know because he is a Captain from the Assault Battalion, and you will show him respect.”

  Three other marines started muttering behind the cover of their friends. Spartan pushed through and grabbed two by their collars. He grasped them firmly and dragged them out in front of the group. Gun grabbed for the third, but he managed to evade him and struggled to escape. The marine ran quickly, and it looked like he might make it, but Khan had other ideas. He pushed out his leg and caught him around the ankle. The young man staggered, desperately trying to regain his balance before collapsing to the floor. He reached out to pull himself up only to find Gun lifting him up and pushing him to Spartan and the other two marines. Spartan stepped closely to the one that had run and stared into his eyes. He waited for a few moments, letting the tension rise.

  “Why did you run, marine?”

  The young man looked to one of his comrades but said nothing.

  “Marine?” demanded Spartan.

  “I...uh...I just ran, Sir.”

  “You are a marine, aren’t you? Marines don’t run. We stand and fight.”

  He turned to the rest of the marines.

  “Don’t we?”

  A few at the front muttered in agreement, but most said nothing.

  “Now, answer the Captain’s question.”

  “We were talking about the best close quarter weapons we have access to.”

  “I see, and what was the conclusion?”

  “We didn’t get that far, Sir. Most think the bayonet, but some of the reports from the Vanguards showed other weapons being used.”

  “This is true. We did use a great variety of equipment before we were shipped out to the Yorkdale. In the end though, it is the marine, not the weapon. You should know this.”

  A chorus of agreement met him as the tension started to fade.

  “Captain?” asked a young marine, barely in his twenties.

  Khan swivelled to look at him. He stepped forward, his vast bulk making him look like a child.

  “What weapons do you prefer?”

  Khan looked to Spartan and then back at the marine, his smile obvious to all.

  “Anything with edge. I like this one...”

  He reached down to the bandolier slung across his body and pulled out what looked like a one-metre long rod. He held it in front of him and twisted the base. From the top, two large blades sprung out. Each was the size of a man’s fist and razor sharp.

  “Wow, an axe?” asked the marine.

  Khan nodded with enjoyment.

  “Fast and powerful...just like me!” he growled.

  The marines started laughing, partially in amusement, and also in relief. As the group continued talking, Spartan turned around and moved through the doorway.

  He stepped inside the marine canteen to find Teresa, Bishop, Misaki and Kowalski sat at a table in a heated debate. The table was halfway along the left wall and near a large colour painting of some twentieth century battle. Spartan hadn’t noticed it before, and he was intrigued by the imagery of hundreds of soldiers charging a hill with bayoneted rifles. They looked surprisingly similar to the L48 rifles they now used. The only real difference was that these warriors made use no of armour, other than simple metal helmets on their heads. It was an image of a war hundreds of years ago, yet it could easily have been Prime or Kerberos. It reminded him of something one of the instructors had told him about combat. ‘Nothing changes. We just find new ways to do the same jobs.’ At the time he wasn’t sure what the man had meant, but looking at this painting it was becoming all too familiar. He turned and continued on to the table and his group of friends. The rest of the canteen area was surprisingly full, and it was clear a good number were recovering from their ordeals. Spartan counted at least a dozen personnel with bandages or casts on their limbs.

  At his side were Sergeant Lovett, Khan and Gun. He moved to the table and almost reached it before Kowalski spotted him. He gave a nod and Teresa twisted around to find them walking towards her. Spartan was a big man but compared to the two Jötnar he looked like a teenager. He stepped closer, and Teresa stood up and almost threw herself at him.

  “Whoa!” he cried, nearly falling back from the impact. She placed her lips firmly on his before pulling away. She lifted her hand and struck him across the face.

  “Hey, save that for later!” he replied with a painful grin.

  “You crazy bastard, Spartan. Kowalski has just been explaining what happened on the cruiser. You do realize you’re issued with armour and firearms for a reason?”

  “Funny.”

  He turned to the two Jötnar who waited patiently as his side.

&nbs
p; “You’ve all met Gun before. You’ll be pleased to know he is now the Commander of the 1st Assault Battalion, and my CO.”

  “CO?” asked Kowalski in surprise. “Nice going there, Gun. I hope you’re kicking his ass? You need to keep him in order.”

  “Sergeant Lovett has been one of my most experiences and trusted NCOs since the formation of the Engineer unit, and he is now in charge of one of the squads in our 1st Company.”

  He then turned to Khan.

  “This here is Captain Khan, he is in charge of the 1st Company, and you’d be hard pressed to find a more aggressive or overly violent Jötnar anywhere on Yorkdale.”

  Khan stated to laugh in his guttural and almost angry sounding tone.

  “Got enough space for us?” he asked.

  “Sure,” said Teresa as she shifted over. They had only made use of half the seating around the table, but the Jötnar were big and needed even more space. Gun lowered himself next to Teresa. Khan dropped down with a thump between Bishop and Misaki, much to her annoyance.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Ah, my apologies. Sergeant Bishop and Kowalski are some of the best marines in the Corps. They assisted in the rescue of the Jötnar and myself on Prometheus. If it wasn’t for them, and Teresa here, none of us would have made it out alive, and the Jötnar would have joined the rest of the brainwashed Biomechs. Hell, you would probably be on Prime right now fighting for the Union.”

  “Really?” asked Khan in surprise.

  Gun nodded in agreement. Khan turned to Bishop and grabbed him in one arm. He lowered his head to the marine.

  “Thank you.”

  Spartan was surprised at the words from the grizzled and somewhat vulgar warrior towards the marine. Their behaviour often flummoxed him, and on this occasion he was more confused than usual. Teresa left them talking and turned to Misaki, a woman she had heard about but not met before.

  “Misaki, Spartan told me you met on Prometheus. How did you meet?”

  The young women looked at her and did her best to hide her discomfort.

  “I, uh, I was in one of the prisoner groups. We were selected to use in combat against the Biomechs for their training. Spartan and I fought against one of them.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it was pretty nasty, but we prevailed, didn’t we?” replied an uncomfortable Spartan.

  Teresa watched them both but couldn’t work out what was going on. Neither seemed keen to discuss it further, so she could only assume it was the memories of the place they would both rather avoid.

  “How did you get there?” asked Sergeant Lovett.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, how did you get on Prometheus?”

  “Right, I was a dancer on one of the stations,” she started but was quickly stopped by the Sergeant.

  “Dancer? I thought you were a tech specialist?”

  “I am...a girl has to earn her keep though. Prometheus is full of specialists of all kinds. Ask Spartan, he got screwed over just like me.”

  “You know about Spartan and his past on Prometheus?” asked Teresa. Misaki looked at her, and a twitch flickered across her brow as she detected a hint of suspicion in her voice.

  “Of course. We were there quite some time, and we got to know each other very well, didn’t we?” she replied as she looked at Spartan.

  An uncomfortable silence settled around the table, but Gun or Khan could not understand what was happening.

  “How you get in with Spartan?” asked Khan. It was an honest question, but the implication in his wording did little to help things.

  “I was performing a show with my troupe when the police arrived. It was a licensed venue, so there shouldn’t have been any problems.”

  “Licensed? What kind of dancing are we talking about?” asked an intrigued Sergeant Lovett.

  Misaki smiled at him coyly, enjoying the attention she was receiving.

  “The police unit wore no insignia and said we had breached the peace. They cuffed us and took all the dancers away. Next thing I knew I was on the ship, in chains and drowsy. Then we were in the compound on Prometheus.”

  “That’s where you met Spartan?” asked Teresa.

  “Yeah.”

  Again, there was an uncomfortable silence. Bishop looked to Misaki and tried to encourage her to move closer to him. She threw him an angry glance and looked back to Spartan.

  “Bishop and I have been given our new orders. We’re going to be transferred to the civilian passenger liner Oceania.”

  “Oceania, the old civilian cruise ship? Isn’t she coming with us to the Anomaly?”

  Bishop nodded.

  “Yeah, she’s been outfitted to carry work crews, engineers and some troops. Looks like Confed have big ideas for the area. I’m part of the security detail, and Misaki here is getting back at doing what she does best.”

  Sergeant Lovett and Kowalski both tried not to laugh at the obvious double entendre.

  “Her tech skills and software knowledge are highly regarded by the computer specialists on the ship.”

  “Yes, they need help reconfiguring the firmware for the new site. Looks like interesting work.”

  “What about you, Kowalski?” asked Spartan.

  “Well, I’m supposed to be getting a shuttle back to the returning transports. Commander Anderson still needs help back on Prometheus.”

  “If you can spare a bit of time, I could really do with your tech knowledge on the Yorkdale. We’re a bit of a mess right now, and our gear and systems are all over the place.”

  “Really?”

  He looked at Teresa and then back at him.

  “If you’re sure?”

  Spartan nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, I’ll get in touch with the Commander and see if I can arrange a temporary assignment to the Yorkdale.”

  “Excellent. How is Anderson these days?” asked Teresa.

  “Tired, mainly. The site has turned from a ruined warzone to a factory and research site. I don’t like to admit it, but the Union forces set up one hell of a secure site to work from. We’ve been getting the factories and shipyards fully operational.”

  “How about the Biomech facilities?”

  Kowalski looked to Gun and Khan before turning back to her.

  “As agreed, the entire system has been deactivated, and most of the important control units have been taken away for study. The good news is, the tech we recovered will help us with tissue regeneration and maybe even organ and limb replacement.”

  “Interesting. Are you any closer to understanding how the synthetic process works?”

  “Kind of. Best we can tell the harvesting of organs was being used to create the less capable Biomechs. The main thing is the system is fast. Our estimates reckon a fully operational and combat ready unit in less than a week.”

  “A week?” said Spartan in surprise.

  “Yes. It is no wonder they had so many on Prime and Kerberos in a matter of months.”

  “What about us?” asked Gun in a gruff tone.

  “Well, as you might expect, you are something very different. Completely synthetic, your base components were being mined directly from the surface of Prometheus. A complete artificial life form, with no dependency on donor organs. The big problem though, is time. It takes months to develop a fully capable Biomech, such as yourself, and that is with the resources and technology already at Prometheus.”

  “We are not Biomech!” growled Khan.

  “No, of course not,” said Kowalski as quickly as he could.

  “Any idea on when the fleet briefing is?” asked Bishop.

  “Just over an hour in the main hall. All the captains will be present, as well as a large number of the marine commanders. Based on the number of people being collected here, I think we are going to get the full story on the Anomaly operation.”

  Bishop nodded.

  “You don’t think this will be another part of Operation Perdition? We’ve got the ships and manpower to cause
a lot of trouble here.”

  “You’re right. You’ve seen what the 1st Assault can do now. We’re not far from almost two thousand Vanguards and Jötnar. I doubt there is a ship, colony or base we couldn’t take from the enemy right now,” Spartan answered.

  Khan slammed his right fist onto the table and nearly broke a chunk of metal framing off in the process. His fist was easily double the size of any of theirs, and the great bulk was like a hammer coming down.

  “Yes! We cannot be stopped!” he growled, and at the same time gave them all the strangest of grins. Spartan shook his head in amusement.

  “We only have so many warriors, Khan. We can’t fight everybody, all of the time!”

  Khan looked at him and tilted his head to one side.

  “Maybe not you, we can though!” roared Khan and with speed that surprised them all, he slammed his fist into Gun’s shoulder. The more experienced Jötnar easily evaded the strike and leaned back to grab the back of Khan’s arm. With a twist, he slammed his face down onto the table. The group went completely silent as they waited for the battered Jötnar to sit up. As he did so, a trickle of blood ran down his cheek. He looked at Gun and then to Spartan before laughing even louder.

  “You’re crazy,” said Bishop, pointing at each of them, “all of you!”

  Teresa started laughing, and the tone of the group returned to the calm state it had been the moment before.

  “Okay then, Spartan. Let’s get to the real news. What’s all this about you knocking up the Sergeant here?” asked a coy-looking Kowalski.

  Misaki’s face dropped as though she had just heard the most terrible news. Her brow tightened, and for the briefest of moments it looked as though she would vomit. The rest of the group hadn’t even noticed, much to her chagrin. They started chatting amiably about the news and ignored her. She sat back, thoughts and memories flashing through her mind. No one noticed her attention was focused completely upon Teresa. Bishop couldn’t see who she was looking at, but he finally sensed something was wrong. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she flinched at the contact.

  “Are you okay?”