Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  Commander Anderson checked the log as he examined the route taken by the beamed transmission. He was all too familiar with the Rim and the complexity of finding even a base or ship, let alone an individual person. It was known through the Proxima System that if you wanted to disappear or renege on a deal you would hide out in the Rim, as you would never be found. The downside was that it was crawling with unsavoury characters that were usually best avoided. Until he had more information it would be useless trying to investigate this further.

  “Okay, good work, Lieutenant. Let me know when you have more data on the decryption. Keep this between us.”

  As Lieutenant Nilsson continued her work on the encrypted data packet the damaged vessel continued its plodding course to the shipyards over Kerberos.

  * * *

  The light flashed on Johnson’s communicator, it was the signal that the target was in position. He took a deep breath and then gave the hand signal to move in. At first nothing happened, it was as if none of the men were ready, but in fact it was the adrenalin kicking in and slowing the burst of activity. His unit fanned out as the spotters and their snipers took out the guards in the street with tranquiliser slugs. The shots were accurate and in less than two seconds the street was clear and the entry team rushed across the street. Johnson was second at the door waiting to the side as two armoured ATU men moved into assault positions. With a flicker the fanned-out metal shields extended from their armour to provide additional protection. They stepped a small distance apart to give the third man space to wield his ram. It was a heavy tool and contained a built in pneumatic pump that could smash through almost any door. With a low thump it smashed the exterior door from its hinges and the way was clear.

  “Go, go, go!” shouted Johnson.

  The two at the front went in quickly, each carrying a thermal shotgun at the ready. The orders were to avoid hostilities if possible, but in these situations it could easily turn violent. These weapons were deadly at close range but wouldn’t break through the outer walls and possibly injure innocent bystanders. Johnson followed closely behind them with his pistol drawn and at the ready. The hallway was dark, the only lighting from red strip lights running along the ceiling. A loud throbbing beat from the sound system made normal discussion almost impossible. As they reached the end of the hallway they came to the door that led to the staircase. It went up to the second floor and into the main dance floor and club. Sat in a kiosk to the right was a scantily clad woman, presumably there to take cash from the patrons. She grabbed something from the wooden unit to her side and swung it around at the ATU officers. The first managed to dodge out of the way but the second took a direct blast from the firearm. Johnson jumped to grab her arm. With a hard pull he smashed her hand on the unit and the pistol dropped to the floor. More ATU officers arrived and one of them secured her with manacles escorting her out of the building.

  Johnson checked his map on his small datapad. According to the data sent by his contact the suspect was thirty metres across the dance floor, sat at a round table and flanked by two guards. He nodded to his men and without waiting they went up the staircase and towards the wide glass entrance leading into the dance hall. As they reached the last few steps Johnson pulled out his pistol.

  “Non-lethal,” he whispered over the radio system.

  The two armoured officers checked their weapons were set to the low power settings before indicating they were ready.

  From the glass doorways they could see the lights moving about but it was impossible to see what else was happening.

  “Go!” said Johnson.

  The first officer pushed the door slightly open and then tossed a stun grenade inside. As soon as it reached the centre of the room it flashed. The pulse was strong and would incapacitate anybody in the room. Without waiting the three were inside the dance hall, but it was quickly obvious something was very wrong. There were no dancers and the only people in the room were already on the floor, face down as though they had been told to get down. Johnson ran to the table to find his contact slumped across the table with his datapad smashed on the ground.

  “Shit!”

  The rest of the team moved in and secured the area, each checking for signs of the suspect.

  “Sir, blood!” called one of the officers as he pointed out a dark trail running out to the side of the room and stopped at a wall.

  “Get that music off!” shouted Johnson as he examined the wall. He tapped his pistol and could easily tell it wasn’t thick. Pulling it back he struck the wall and the pistol smashed through the thin layers. Pushing his hand into the hole he found he could slide the section of wall to the side. It revealed a messy room full of smashed computer terminals and papers. He was about to enter when a man in a suit appeared from behind a stack of machines and opened fire with an old fashioned shotgun.

  Johnson’s reactions were only just quick enough to save him but the ATU officer behind took the full brunt in the chest, flying back two metres before crashing down hard. Johnson leaned around the gap and fired three rounds at the man but he had already vanished. From his position Johnson could see the window was open and outside were the rusty metal railings of the fire escape.

  “Fire escape!” he shouted and ran into the room to give chase.

  As he reached the ledge the man was already down the first part of the metal staircase. He fired a shot to try and make him stop. There was no way the man was going to wait though and he kept moving. Johnson squeezed himself out of the window and onto the iron gantry that led to the staircase. As he rushed down the steps he could make out the shape of the man below.

  “In pursuit of suspect, I need the fire escape cut off, block the street. He is armed and prepared to use force!”

  The suspect was crouching near the ledge and as Johnson emerged he fired a blast of lead shot that managed to catch his right leg. It was a near miss but a few of the tiny pieces of lead managed to take chunks from the close fitting armour he wore under his suit and made him lose his balance. With a flailing action he tried to grab the railing but it was too little too late. He crashed down and rolled down three steps. Johnson looked up to see then man, he was dark skinned and had serpent like tattoos on his cheeks. The man lifted the shotgun and pointed it at Johnson.

  “No, wait!” he shouted but the man didn’t hesitate, he pulled the trigger but nothing happened other than the click of the hammer.

  The man muttered and then turned to continue his run to the bottom of the fire escape. Johnson lifted himself up but the pain in his back and legs told him the fall had hurt him more than expected. He heard shouting and leaned out over the side to see the man running across the lane. Taking careful aim he pointed the weapon low and squeezed off two shots. The first missed but the second struck the man above the knee.

  “Suspect is down, where are you?” shouted Johnson into his radio gear.

  He supported his weight on the metal railings and moved the last few steps to the ground below. In the darkness it wasn’t easy to focus in the shadows. He paused for a second to take a quick gasp of oxygen, the last rush had really taken it out of him. He then went over to the slow moving body of the suspect.

  “Freeze!” He lowered his pistol and pointed it at the man’s head.

  The man stopped and rolled over to look directly into Johnson’s face, the pain from the wound was evidently becoming worse. He grabbed for a concealed blade but Johnson was ready for that and quickly kicked it away. The agent knelt down next to him and put pressure on the wound.

  “I want...” he said before noticing the frothing at the man’s mouth.

  He grabbed at the man and tried to force out whatever was there but it was too late. In just seconds the poison had done its work and the man lay dead. Johnson slumped down next to the body, the raid had failed and their suspect was dead. There was still no sign of his backup and that was starting to worry him. He looked over to the body of the man, noticing the tattoos again. They were the mark of the secretive Church o
f Echidna, an organisation that was connected to the Zealots and attacks throughout the System. He checked the man’s pockets but found nothing other than some shells for his weapon. He pulled back the jacket reaching down to the trouser pocket only to find a pouch on the man’s belt. Johnson instantly recognised the feel.

  “Datapad!” He pulled out the valuable electronic device. Holding it in front of him he ran his finger along the top to activate the unit. With a flicker of light blue text it powered up and waited with some kind of icon-based security panel. Then he heard footsteps.

  “About dammed time!” he said as he looked up from the body.

  The shape in the distance was of a man in a long coat and wearing a wide brimmed hat. The man was coming towards him, then he realised he was pointing a weapon. Jumping back he avoided the blast from the man’s pistol. Then he was gone. Johnson gave chase but his back and leg were still causing him pain.

  “Special Agent Johnson, in pursuit of shooter. He’s coming around to the side street. Where are you?” he shouted.

  The man disappeared through a dark archway in the wall that led to a courtyard at the side of the main building. He approached the arch area with care and popped his head inside then back out, it looked clear. Keeping his pistol raised he slipped through the arch to find an empty courtyard.

  “What the hell?” He angrily keyed the radio again, “Johnson here, what’s going on?”

  There was a crackle followed by one of the ATU agents. “We’re in the alley, where is the body?”

  Johnson shook his head, he simply couldn’t believe the incompetence of these men he had been assigned. He gave one last look to the courtyard and then turned back though the arch and into the alley. As he moved closer he could see three of the ATU men, all stood in their armour with their weapons ready for danger. He approached the first who stood waiting for him.

  “He was right here!”

  The man looked down then back to Johnson. “Maybe he was just wounded and got away?”

  The second officer stepped closer. “Did you find anything?” he asked.

  Johnson looked at him, something was clearly wrong with this situation. Not least, because all three of the ATU men had their hands on their shotguns and looked ready to shoot. He instantly felt nervous and decided to take no chances.

  “Nothing, this raid was a disaster! Let’s get back to Headquarters, I’ve got paperwork to file,” he said angrily.

  As the officers turned to return to the street Johnson noticed a look of satisfaction between the two of the men. He pushed his hand inside his armoured jacket, checking the recovered datapad was still there. He was right, there was definitely something suspicious going on and he was going to find out what it was, wherever the evidence took him.

  * * *

  Teresa finished her lunch and pushed the tray to one side. From where she sat she could look out through the windows to the planet below. Well, in reality she was looking at the wall as the computer systems were set to replicate the exterior view on the walls of the secure section inside the rotating section of the ship. As she looked out at the planet of Prime below she could see specks of grey as the Fleet sent more vessels to the surface. In the last hour she had counted over a hundred craft heading down from the transports and capital ships of the Navy that were scattered around the planet. One of the transit stations was already being used as a drop off point for materials and supplies for the war effort. She was ever amazed at the speed and ingenuity shown by the armed forces when facing a crisis.

  Unlike the operation on the moon of Kronus a few days before, the combat operations around Prime were now no longer just the domain of the Marine Corps. The heavy transports of the Confederate Army had now arrived. Though their numbers were much greater than those of the marines they were normally used for static garrisons, security operations or for bulking up the numbers in major combat operations. The fact they had arrived signalled a change in the campaign and not one for the good. The Army was notorious for its poor discipline and corruption in the Officer Corps, well, that was what she had heard anyway. From what she had seen on the intelligence reports being sent around the ship they were going to need every soldier and marine they could find to keep Prime under control. If that meant making use of the Army so be it. The Marine Corps could hardly be expected to do all the work, there were only so many of them.

  The canteen was much quieter than normal with the marines busy fighting down on the surface. She was still fuming at her visit an hour earlier in the medical bay. She had originally been told she would be able to report back for duty in a couple of days, but it seemed the surgeon had botched the work and most of it had been redone. The damage wasn’t life threatening but the bullet impacts could have caused long-term damage without the operations. The extra work meant she couldn’t return to her unit for combat operations for at least another forty-eight hours until the stitches had healed. The medical bay was well equipped and rather than having to wait weeks for the wounds to heal she needed a matter of hours for the process to start. It still felt too long and the thought of her comrades fighting when she was stuck in orbit was driving her stir crazy. It wasn’t that she was desperate for battle or was trying to contain some kind of bloodlust. She just hated being on her own on a new ship, with few people she knew and nothing to do. She and Spartan had spent months on the marine ship CCS Santa Maria as they completed their basic training. Her new posting was essentially the same but there were enough differences for her to feel uncomfortable.

  Two marines from the Signals Unit walked past with towels draped over their shoulders. As with all the marines on the ship they were expected to keep themselves fit, both mentally and physically. Maybe a bit of physical exercise would help.

  “Hey, you off to the gym?” she asked.

  “Yeah, time for some sparring,” said the first man.

  The second man turned to her. “You wanna join us?”

  He quickly noticed the bandages just showing along her collar. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were injured, you take a hit or something?”

  “Yeah, on the landing at Titan, took a few rounds in the arm.” She stretched the injured limb.

  The two men sat down facing her and quickly introduced themselves.

  “I’m Corporal Kowalski, this is Private Bishop, we just arrived with the new recruits from boot camp on Carthago.”

  “Teresa Morato.”

  She looked at the two men, noting they were both in their thirties and had the assuredness she’d seen on the more experienced marines on the ship. Bishop had a dark tattoo running down the side of his face and disappeared into his tunic.

  “You’re not recruits though, right?”

  “Hell no,” replied Bishop. “We’re part of the Guard Unit down on Carthago but we were transferred nine months ago to come to the Proxima System. We heard it was supposed to be the new paradise!”

  “Hell, they got that wrong!” laughed Kowalski. “We’ve been training rookies for the last nine months and were supposed to be transferring to Kerberos when our taskforce arrived here. Instead most of us were sent to Prime to help with the siege down there.”

  Teresa said nothing, her mind obviously elsewhere. She gazed at them before realising they were waiting for her to speak.

  “I, uh, my family is from Carthago,” she mumbled.

  “I thought Carthago citizens weren’t allowed to join up because of the troubles?” Kowalksi asked.

  “My family helped the Confed resistance so I was given an exemption to serve to pay my family’s debts,” she said bitterly.

  “What do you mean?” asked Bishop.

  Teresa said nothing and it was clear the subject was one she didn’t want to continue. The two marines sat uncomfortably before Bishop broke the silence.

  “Isn’t that where they reckon the Church of Echidna got started back with the early colonies?”

  Kowalski shrugged and pulled out his datapad. He brought up several pages on the Church and its early
history.

  “Says here the Church was founded by some of the early colonists from Earth. They were a kind of minority monotheistic cult that suffered a schism which turned violent. After the Great War they scattered through the Systems, with many of them going on the long voyage to the new colonies in Proxima. Apparently they tried to unify their church with the colonial governments but were forced to stop. Since then parts of the more conservative wings of the church have broken away to continue the fight with violence while the rest preach peace and tolerance.”

  “Tolerance my ass!” laughed Bishop. “Did you join up at Carthago then?”

  Teresa turned her head in disagreement as she remembered what had happened. The memories were still fresh, the long drawn out illness of her husband and her years of work trying to earn enough money in the poverty stricken world of Carthago. She looked up and Bishop and answered though her voice was slower and obviously upset.

  “No, I joined a mining operation out near Prometheus.”

  “Prometheus? That’s the new colony on the fire world. Hell, that’s the closest planet to the sun right?”

  “That’s wild. I’ve heard that place is rough. Aren’t most of the stations there full of strip bars and underground arenas?” asked Kowalski.

  “Yeah, something like that. It’s where Spartan and I were volunteered for training. It takes a long time to get to Prometheus, why do you think so much illegal activity goes on out there? If you avoid the storms and stop at Agora and Hydra like we did, it takes nearly thirty weeks journey just to get back to Prime.”

  “I’ve been thinking of spending some of my vacation leave there, but the trip is too long. Isn’t there a faster way?” Bishop asked.

  “I’ve heard a direct trip avoiding the storms can be done in about half that, but if the storms kick up you’ll have to wait for a gap. Might be days but sometimes months. You can risk running the storms but apparently half the ships that try it are destroyed, if you make it through then it can be done in less than a week.” Kowalski explained.