Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Crap!” he muttered as he grasped his harness to ensure he didn’t drift out of his seat. The woman next to him laughed.

  “So much for the mighty Spartan, I thought your scars meant you had seen action. Maybe you’ve just seen the wrong kind of action?” she laughed again.

  “Nice.” Spartan closed his eyes for a moment. With them shut he could concentrate on calming himself down and getting used to the feeling. It didn’t take long and from what he had heard it was pretty common to feel a little nauseous in this situation. They had been in space for several minutes now and he didn’t expect the journey would be that much longer. He gave it a few more seconds before opening his eyes. The Hispanic woman was staring right at him.

  “You okay?”

  “No problem,” Spartan answered with a forced smile.

  “Now, what did you want to know?”

  “What happened to you, Spartan?”

  “I got screwed over just like you and they gave me a choice. No way was I going to prison, so here I am.”

  They sat in silence watching through the small windows as they approached the Santa Maria. It was clear how massive and old the ship was. The outer hull was marked with age and there were signs of damage and wear on many sections. They moved past the bow of the large ship and then alongside the habitation sections. These parts of the ship rotated but it wasn’t where they were heading. Their speed reduced even further as they reached the loading area. A great hangar door was already open waiting for them. With great precision the pilot moved the shuttle in sideways and towards a platform. It took almost two minutes for them to be in the exact position before he lowered the craft. With a gentle clunk the magnetic seals locked it in place. From the wall a number of tubes like great tentacles pushed and headed towards the entry points on the shuttle. They slowly reached the body of the craft they linking with another clunk. Outside the main hangar door started to shut. Spartan gave one last look at the life he was leaving behind and then it was gone, the only light came from inside the shuttle.

  “Welcome to the CCS Santa Maria. Please make sure you hold the rails as you leave. There is no gravity until you enter the first level of the habitation ring. Hope you enjoyed your short ride,” said the pilot over the intercom system.

  Almost as soon as the intercom switched off there was a loud gulping sound as the pressure normalised, then the door opened. Through the gaps the flexible access tubes led to the habitation section. The tube was wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Not that this was going to happen as they were all struggling to use the lowered hand rails in the zero gravity section of the ship. Spartan, now feeling comfortable in this environment let his legs drift and pulled himself along with his upper body. Looking back he noticed Teresa doing the same. As he expected she was much stronger than she looked. It took almost a full minute to reach the end of the tunnel and the bright light of the arrivals area.

  Spartan paused as he reached the end, for a moment confused by what he saw ahead. As he entered the habitation ring he could see it rotating around him, people were all around the perimeter, though he was in the centre and still experiencing weightlessness. Ahead of him was a marine sergeant who was moving people down a series of ladders to the surface. He moved up to the marine who raised his hand to stop him.

  “Wait. The ladder will take you down to the grav zone. You’re gonna feel weird when you get hit by full on gravity again, so take it slow and wait if you feel nauseous.”

  Where he was waiting were four ladders, each rotating very slowly so that he could easily grab onto any of them. He chose the one to his left and noted that he was already moving up slowly. Reaching out he grabbed the metal rung and swung his feet up onto the frame. At this point he was barely moving. Lowering himself down Spartan nodded and then started to work his way down the ladder. Although the section only rotated at about three complete revolutions a minute it was still moving at a considerable speed. Looking up he noticed Teresa was following close behind. He concentrated on the ladder and kept moving down until he finally reached the other section. He jumped down and was glad to feel the force of gravity pulling him to the outside of the vessel. He looked up to see the centre section where he had started seemed to be rotating though he knew it was actually him moving around it. He thought about it a little more, especially the idea that maybe he wasn’t moving and maybe it was the centre section, then he gave up. Physics wasn’t his forte and thinking about it for any longer he thought his head would explode.

  There were over a hundred recruits now in this area and they were all busy looking around their new home. Though they were standing in what was essentially a big wheel, as they looked along the ship they could see the habitation section was just the other twenty metres or so that rotated around the main hull of the ship. It made sense, as the space in the centre would be a total waste if used as a zero gravity area to float around in. Teresa jumped down next to Spartan.

  “That wasn’t so bad now was it?”

  “Yeah, bloody great!”

  “Okay recruits, this is your last day as a civilian!”

  Spartan turned to see a tall black man stood in his Marine Corps dress uniform. You have your berth numbers on this board and I suggest you get your gear unloaded. The time is set to Proxima Standard Time. That makes it fourteen hundred hours. We will re-assemble here in one hour for your introduction!”

  Spartan approached the board and searched for his name. He noted he was in a section with three other men, none of them sounded familiar. Lifting his small backpack onto his shoulder he turned back to Teresa who was also reading the board.

  “See you around, look after yourself.”

  Teresa smiled back, “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.” She turned back to the screen.

  Spartan moved off down the slightly curved corridor, reading the numbers on the berths as he went. Some of the doors were already open and he glimpsed a number of people putting their gear away. He reached his and noticed the door was shut. Pulling hard it swung open to reveal a small berth with two bunk beds one on each side and a small table in the middle. Against the far wall was a video terminal that had strong similarities with the screens back on the station. As he entered the room, it flickered and a three-dimensional face appeared.

  “Welcome recruit. These are your quarters for the duration of your training. In this room you have adequate storage for your clothing and personal items. Communal showers and toilet facilities are between each eight berths. Video communications are available free of charge for all Marine Corps personnel but with the usual ten second security delay. Please exercise caution when using any outside communication devices. We are at war and information must always be guarded. Your briefing will take place in fifty-one minutes,” said the voice before it went silent.

  Another man entered the room, a tall black man with dark hair and a tattoo of a knife on his neck. Spartan scanned him quickly, instantly noting the way he moved and carried himself. Behind him were the final two men, a pair of Hispanics in their late twenties. The black man spoke first with a thick German accent.

  “Marcus,” he said, shaking Spartan’s hands and then moved forward to one of the lower bunks. Spartan’s gear was already on the top bunk to the right. The next two men entered, the first ignored everyone but the shorter one looked a little more agreeable.

  “Jesus, and you?”

  “Spartan.”

  “You Greek?”

  “No,” came the reply, in his usual sardonic manner.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I guess I’m on the left.”

  With the four men now in the cabin, the artificial intelligence system reactivated and repeated the message Spartan had already listened to. He looked around, spotting the sprinklers system, fire extinguishers and fire axes. There was little that encouraged him as to the safety of the place. In fact, everything he had seen so far told him this vessel was far from the safest place he’d been in.

  With a dull rumble through the massiv
e vessel they could all feel the main engines on the ship start up. There was a slight rattle coming from one of the air vents. Jesus lifted himself up on the bunk bed and struck it with the palm of his hand, it changed nothing.

  “Oh, man, that isn’t going to annoy me is it?”

  It wasn’t clear whether Spartan was more irritated with Jesus or the vent but he quickly climbed up and smashed the bottom of his fist at the grate. It made a crunching sound and the rattle stopped instantly.

  The German nodded his head in satisfaction grinning as he looked at the dent in the metalwork. “Yeah, I like your moves.”

  Spartan turned around with the room now quiet. “Me too.”

  The other Hispanic got up from the bunk bed and moved to Spartan. He was a good deal shorter but that didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Hey, man, I know you, yeah, Spartan,” he said excitedly.

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “Yeah, you’re that gladiator guy I saw on the news. You were fighting on one of the stations around Prometheus right? They said you killed a cop.”

  The German took a step back, staring warily at him. “Is that true, you a cop killer?”

  “What does it matter, we’re all here for the same reason, we were too stupid to do something better.”

  “Maybe, but I’d still like to know if I’m sharing with a cop killer.”

  “It was an accident, if it wasn’t they’d have electrocuted my ass!”

  “Accident my ass,” said Jesus, as he jumped back onto his bunk.

  “You looking to make an issue of it?” Spartan sounded more than a little annoyed.

  “Just wondering, man, just wondering,” smiled Jesus.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Confederate Marine Corps serves as an amphibious force-in-readiness that is able to conduct operations both in and from space. As outlined in Title 32 of the Confederation Constitution and as originally introduced under the Confederation Security Act of 147b, it has three primary areas of responsibility:

  These are the seizure or defence of ports, docks, and naval bases as well as land operations to support naval campaigns by the Centauri Confederate Navy fleet.

  The development of tactics, techniques and equipment as used by amphibious landing forces.

  Such other duties as the office of Command in Chief may direct.

  History of the Marine Corps

  The CCS Crusader was the newest and most powerful warship in the entire Fleet and for Lieutenant Erdeniz it was a dream posting. Of almost one hundred warships in the Fleet the Crusader was the place every crewmember wanted to serve on. Unlike the previous ships, the Crusader was the first battlecruiser to be built. The name had been used in the twentieth century and was a series of warships that were often of similar performance to battleships but armed with even more powerful weapons. In this respect she was similar but the emphasis was on speed. She carried much the same amount of weaponry as the larger battleships but had bigger engines and less substantial armour. It was all part of the Navy’s new plans for faster ships that could respond to security incidents in the shortest time possible. With the increase in speed they would be able to protect the convoys from hijacked vessels’ suicide attacks where problems could pop up anywhere in the System with no advance notice. Recent experience had shown the heavier, slower ships were easier to avoid and no armour could protect a vessel against a determined attack. The Crusader looked liked two upturned World War II battleships with their hulls fused together. There was no obvious top or bottom and there were a dozen rotating bands along the hull providing full and half gravity. With a crew complement of over two thousand, as well as over two hundred heavily equipped marines, the vessel was the ultimate form of force projection. Against the civilian transports and tenders it was a vessel of epic proportions in every way.

  Lieutenant Erdeniz had graduated from the academy only a year before but was already stationed at one of the ship’s massive weapon batteries. From his position, he commanded a ring of twenty-four weapons. They were divided into four batteries, each managed by a squad of six gunners, loaders and engineers. On this particular day, he was working with just one of the squads and their single weapon system.

  He checked his screen as he worked on the configuration of a new weapons load out for his battery. Though the ship carried a variety of ordnance, the primary weapons were railguns. These were so large they could only be mounted in vessels such as this one and required massive nuclear generators to provide for their thirst for energy. He had modified enough ammunition for the entire battery and one test. He could get permission for no more.

  The railgun weapon system was a fully electrical gun sending a conductive projectile along a pair of metal rails using the same principles as the homopolar motor. The system was first proposed in the early twentieth century but hit problems due to the massive power requirements. The railgun’s batteries used two sliding contacts that permitted a large electric current to pass through the projectile. This current then interacted with the strong magnetic fields generated by the rails accelerating the projectile to an incredibly fast speed. Anything hit by the speeding ammunition would be torn apart by the sheer kinetic energy. Lieutenant Erdeniz had proposed a variant on one normal solid shot used to provide a weapon with similar characteristics to the canister rounds used by wooden sailing ships.

  Today was a very special day, as he would test his creation in front of a panel of senior officers from the crew of the ship. He wore his dress uniform and it was a decision he was already regretting. He might be a lieutenant but in front of these officers he felt like a child. He had been proposing this new weapon system for three months and it had taken weeks of permission forms and testing before they would even consider his suggestion. If he could make it work he could expect an immediate promotion. Of course, if for any reason the system didn’t work he could be looking at all manner of problems, not least a black mark on his record that might prove impossible to remove. There was also the very tiny possibility that if the system failed it could cause expensive damage to the weapon systems. That would immediately put an end to his chances of promotion in the future.

  Lieutenant Erdeniz stood up stiffly as more of the officers entered the gunnery section. His crew stood smartly to attention, as did he. The room was cramped and although the men did a good job at keeping the place clear and smart it still looked like an old steam ship’s engine room. It was hardly a place befitting these high rankers.

  General Rivers approached and shook his hand. He was tall and had the reputation of a man with years of active service and combat to go with it. He had been busy in the last few years fighting the many pirate groups popping up and had achieved some important victories.

  “I’ve read your recommendations and I like your work. I know there are many who say the weapon is pointless and that it saps energy from the main projectile, but I’m convinced it could have a use.” He then stepped back.

  Another officer, Captain Jackson, was less than impressed and stood nearby but said nothing. He’d been arguing for the use of high explosive based weapons and if Lieutenant Erdeniz’s system didn’t work, they might well look to him.

  “Please proceed,” said the General.

  Lieutenant Erdeniz moved his hands in front of the display and a three dimensional model of the battlecruiser appeared. He moved to the side and explained the situation.

  “In this simulated engagement we see a vessel is approaching, it is actually approximately five thousand metres away but it could quite easily be five hundred. The vessel is based upon collisions we have faced recently,” he said as calmly as possible.

  The group watching seemed unexcited at the task so far, so Erdeniz turned to his crew to get it moving more quickly.

  “What is the estimated damage of impact from that vessel?”

  “Based on its current velocity we are looking at a forty percent loss of Section B with around twenty decks destroyed. This will cut the power to all batteries fo
rward of Section C,” replied Ensign Harris.

  Erdeniz returned to the screen as the model showed the ship crashing into the side of the warship and causing catastrophic damage.

  “As we know, the armour of this vessel is thinner than the battleships, especially in these zones. At this speed we are looking at the very best, a heavily damaged barely operational warship and at worse a crippled vessel.”

  “Okay, son, we appreciate the problem, can you show us your weapon now?” said the agitated Captain.

  Erdeniz nodded and proceeded to start the weapon sequence.

  “I will fire two shots from this main gun. The first is our standard heavy shot and the second my canister variant. If you will all watch this screen, I have sent out two camera drones to monitor the demonstration.”

  On cue the screen flickered and multiple views appeared on the wall that gave the impression of a large window they could all see out. The illusion also allowed him to make the approaching vessel appear much closer that it really was.

  “The first shot, our standard eight hundred millimetre armour piercing round is loaded and ready.” There was a clunk as the seals were shut.

  Erdeniz flipped a hatch open to reveal a series of buttons and a red glowing button the centre.

  “Gun ready?”

  “Aye,” replied his crew.

  “Fire!” He hit the launch button.

  There was a loud buzz through the floor of the room as the weapon system accelerated the massive man-sized round along the rails and out of the gun port fitted on the side of the hull. The external camera couldn’t capture the shell itself as it moved at such an incredibly high speed. From the gun port however a plume of superheated plasma gushed out, much like the gun port on a medieval warship.

  The second camera showed the almost immediate impact on the approaching ship. It struck the outer hull and tore a metre-wide gash before blasting through the vessel and out through the other side.