“Engines? Maybe it’s a modified version, like a tug?” Bishop suggested.
“That isn’t really necessary though, unless she’s been altered with more substantial manoeuvring thrusters of course. Either way we’ll find out soon enough, the transport is moving into a position alongside us. They’ll be here in less than two minutes!”
The public wideband channel on the emergency communications panel flashed to show an unencrypted transmission had been picked up on the emergency transponder. Without intervention the equipment transferred the data to the screen. At first is showed a simple arrangement of coloured bars before fading away to show a man’s face. It was a one-way signal, presumably from the approaching vessels and didn’t use the normal communications system present on board the Tamarisk.
“This is Ramillies, your transport is encroaching on a private meeting. We can only assume your intentions are hostile. Open your cargo bays for inspection and prepare to be boarded, resistance will be met with accordingly.”
Commander Anderson gave the screens a quick look before turning to his small crew. His face showed concern but he was far from panicked.
“They aren’t coming to inspect us, if they knew who we were though they’d already be shooting. I’ve seen the reports on these groups in this area. You’ve seen the wreckage of the cutter as well. They seize the ship and tow it to the nearest yard where they strip the tech, move the goods and then usually kill the crew. If you’re lucky you get sent off to the slavers on the Rim or Prometheus. The carcass of the your ship will then either but towed away for scrap or if it is a military vessel they usually dump it.”
“Bullshit, they’re not taking us!”
“I never suggested otherwise, Teresa. I don’t think any of us is in the mood to just hand over such a sweet ship as ours,” he said with a wicked smile.
Barca, who until then had been silent, joined in. “Now we find out if those modifications are worth the effort the tech guys put into them.”
He was the shortest of the marines, with the exception of Teresa, but had the broad build and attitude of a man who had been bullied and harassed over the years for his size. After several years service in the Marine Corps he was as tough as they came, even if that came at the price of his less than inspiring social skills.
“Bishop, get on the weapons platform and make sure you’re ready. Barca! Teresa! Break out the weapons and then get down to the hangar bay. If any of them manage to get inside it’s your job to make sure they get no further. There are carbines and thermal shotguns on the rack, you know where they are.”
Teresa nodded and immediately started to untie herself from her position in front of the computer system. As she extricated herself Commander Anderson then turned to Kowalski.
“Can you jam their transmissions once the shooting starts? If we lose our cover we might as well have not bothered coming here.”
“Can do, Sir, when we get within one hundred metres I’ll drop a dampening net in this section. Nothing will get in or out until we power down the field. There is a problem though, the kind of power we’ll be putting out will make us stick out to any other vessels in this area. If they have friends they’ll be onto us in minutes.”
“Perhaps, but once the shooting starts that will happen anyway. The trick is to keep it short, fast and violent.”
Kowalski snorted to himself, “Fast and violent huh? That’s my speciality!”
He shouted after Bishop who was already pulling himself along the inside of the ship towards the weapon control console that was a few metres further back in the habitation section.
“Bishop, do not under any circumstances start the targeting matrix up until I give you the word. Once they know we are armed and ready they’ll know the game is up.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not my first time, Kowalski.”
He pulled himself over to the weapon control system and strapped himself into the chair. Directly in front were a dozen screens as well as the manual overrides for the mechanical weapon systems. Though the Tamarisk was a civilian transport she had been heavily modified into what was known as a ‘Q’ ship. By removing sections of the cargo areas a variety of weapon systems had been fitted. Hinged plates and shutters covered the weapons and the additional armour that had also been installed. The middle part of the vessel, and by far the largest, was the central spine onto which six large containers ran lengthwise along a hexagonal joint. From the front it looked like the ship was almost cylindrical due to the containers that were fitted to the top, bottom and sides. The containers were the parts of the ship that had been modified the most, though from the outside she just looked like an old, slightly out of date haulage vessel. In reality she had the firepower to take on a ship of the same size, possibly even larger, even more importantly she had surprise on her side. At least, that is what they hoped.
“Sixty seconds, Commander,” said Kowalski, his voice slightly higher pitched than before.
Barca and Teresa were at the main sealed bulkhead doorway that led into the cargo area. They were both wearing their work suits, much like the PDS armoured suits used by the marines but less sophisticated and lacking the communication equipment and defences of the military. The suits were equipped with mounts for a variety of tools, the exteriors of both were well worn and pockmarked with dents and scratches. They had originally been a dark red colour but over time had faded and several repair patches did nothing to enhance the looks of the gear. In reality they were extremely well maintained but to the untrained eye they were industrial and outdated compared to the more recent suits and body armour. Neither of them were wearing helmets, though Teresa was already removing one from the wall mount and Barca was busy checking the seals on his own before he pulled the helmet down onto his head. When on the ship it was fine to have the external automatic visor in the upright position. This just left the reinforced glass visor fixed in place to maintain a full sealed environment in the suit.
Taking some effort they unlocked the sealed section and then pulled their weightless bodies inside the internal spine of the ship. It was several metres wide, easily large enough for the two of them, and ran the entire length of the ship. As they moved down it they they passed the first entry section where a doorway led into each of the containers. The doors formed a hexagonal ring and they were all sealed with traditional wheeled seals. These ships could carry all manner of containers and equipment, so it was imperative that the connections between the ship and the cargo were both strong and sealed. The worst fear on any of these vessels was that of opening a hatch to find nothing but the void and a painful death on the other side.
Teresa called to Barca, “Get weapons. We’ll cover the corridors from behind those storage lockers.”
Just inside the shaft was a locked cabinet which she quickly opened to reveal a weapon rack containing a dozen weapons. Most were ultra low calibre pistols for use on ships, but there was also a modified thermal shotgun and an unusual riot carbine with built in shotgun slung under the main barrel. It had been important from the start that they carried only weapons ever used on the civilian market or likely to have been purchased on the black market. Having a ship full of L48 rifles or carbines would be an easy giveaway that they were a marine party.
Barca leaned forward and grabbed the shotgun and then one of the pistols that he then stuffed into his belt. As Teresa took her own set of weapons a series of clunks rattled through the hardened metal of the ship. Barca looked to Teresa who was busy checking the carbine.
“What the hell is that?”
“Sounds like the container motors starting up, they’ll be needed to open the flaps to the weapon systems.”
A low whine came from the wall as the internal speaker system activated.
“They are approaching on the port side. I’m opening the clear containers for them to inspect. The armed units will stay closed for the next thirty seconds,” came the familiar voice of Bishop who was still manning the weapon controls.
“Ander
son here. Remember the plan. When I give the order we hit the dampening field. With their signals jammed we will have a small window. Kowalski estimates we will have about thirty seconds, forty top, before they can power up and get far enough away to burn through our blocks with their transmissions. If they can get away from us the mission will be exposed and we’ll be back to square one. Bishop will eliminate the engines on both craft with the first volleys of fire. Assuming we succeed we’ll proceed with the capture of their ships. Minimise casualties, we need prisoners and intel. Don’t kill them and don’t destroy the ships. That goes for you especially, Barca. Capture, don’t destroy!”
Barca looked over to Teresa and grinned before pulling down the darkened visor on his helmet. Much like a welding mask the helmet visor could adjust to all levels of light, making them perfect for welding work or accidental exposure to the full burning glare of the sun. They were now both fully equipped, ready for battle and potentially for extra vehicular activity (EVA), movement outside the ship in the vacuum of space. With a final check on the internal doors they moved back and took up positions behind cover, planting their feet inside the railing to anchor themselves down. From this position they had a full arc of fire that covered the entire length of the spine. If anybody managed to board through the cargo or engine areas they would have to pass through this corridor.
Teresa tapped a button on the wall to activate the ship’s internal communications system.
“We’re in position, the spine is secured and the doors are locked down. We’re ready!”
Bishop and Kowalski both turned and looked towards Commander Anderson for the final word on the operation. He in turn looked back and double-checked the range to the approaching craft.
“Okay, Kowalski, you have the numbers, as soon as they hit the marker you release the field and then help Bishop with the weapons. Ready?”
Both marines nodded before turning back to their view screens.
“Okay, both vessels are coming into range in 5...4...3...2...1,” he said as calmly as possible.
On the screen the tug had changed course slightly and was moving above the crew area at a slow crawl. The transport craft however was in place directly parallel with the Tamarisk and her cargo doors were already starting to open.
“Here goes nothing!” cried Kowalski as he hit the release button.
A low buzz travelled through the ship as the modified dampening field fitted by the Naval engineers powered up and then released its electronic screen. There was nothing to actually see but Tamarisk’s own sensors and diagnostic screen indicated a block to all data transmission and reception, as well as communication on anything other than hard wired data lines. Kowalski did a quick wide band check and immediately found attempts to transmit from the enemy craft.
“Okay, they’re blocked, do your work!”
Bishop triggered the unlock mechanism, clunks and shudders travelled through the great hulk of the ship. From the outside it looked simply like more of the cargo doors were opening. There was a good chance that the hostile vessels’ own crews would be more confused than anything else. With their systems jammed it could easily be solar disruption or equipment failure. It wouldn’t matter anyway. As soon as the weapons opened fire it would be clear what was happening.
“Dragging out the guns!” Bishop shouted as he hit the ready button.
In four of the containers sat pairs of 40mm flak guns. These ancient relics from the early Navy warships were the least advanced weaponry in the Fleet. In fact they would have been equally at home on board ocean-based shipping in the twentieth century. The only concession to later designs was that they were all equipped with auto-loading hardware and gyroscopic motorised mounts. Once the doors were fully open the pairs of guns moved forward two metres so that the barrels protruded from the containers like a series of radio masts. The barrels of each weapon were over a metre long and the ammunition boxes were packed with both armour-piercing and high explosive rounds, each selectable via the weapon control systems inside the ship.
On the tactical display Bishop had two targeting patterns already loaded in. The guns in three of the four containers had a direct line of sight to the targets and in less than two seconds had pivoted into position and loaded armour-piercing rounds. The high explosives might do better against these kinds of lighter armed vessels but they wanted prisoners, not destruction.
Commander Anderson watched over the unfolding drama and spotted the manoeuvring thrusters already adjusting on the tug. So far they still had the element of surprise. He took a deep breath.
“Fire!”
Bishop, on hearing the order hit the button for the firing pattern to commence. The vibration rippled through the ship as the large weapons opened fire. On the bridge of the Tamarisk Commander Anderson had a perfect view of the approaching vessel. It was positioned about a hundred metres off the port side and a dozen 40mm shells had already struck the engines and after section. Sparks and flashes scattered along the rear of the ship and at least one round must have struck a fuel or chemical tank as a blinding flash tore out a large chunk and split it in two.
“Holy shit!” swore Bishop as he watched the screen.
The guns fell silent on the flank only for the weapons to pivot around and join in with the other four guns already blazing away at the tug. Either the craft was extremely lucky or it was equipped with additional armour as after sustaining over a hundred rounds it was still intact and its engines were starting to light up.
“Bishop!”
“I’m on it, Sir!” Bishop ran his fingers over the control systems for the weapons. He made minor modifications and set one of the guns to fire a series of high explosive rounds. With a short burst of clattering fire another thirty shells ripped through the craft on its engines all along the hull. As sparks and flashes danced about on the screen he noticed a hatch opening on the underside of the craft. As he zoomed in the colour literally drained from his face.
“That’s no tug, look!” he called as he sent the video feed to the other displays.
Before any of them had anything to add a series of blue muzzle flashes appeared from the hatch. The internal alarms responded instantly as a dozen holes appeared in the hull of the Tamarisk. Both vessels continued to rake each other with fire as they stood off at short distance.
“We’re taking damage throughout container four and the sleeping quarters have been breached,” said Kowalski as he checked the status of all sections of the ship. “I’ve lost control of half the guns, they must have cut through the control units after one of the first hatches.”
Commander Anderson poured over the schematics of their ship before spotting the point Kowalski was referring to. It was a large armoured control unit mounted in the spine of the ship, deep behind armour and the protection of the containers.
“What the hell? That’s where Teresa is.” He grabbed the intercom.
A loud crash came from inside the ship and a series of flashes and sparks raced across the computer displays.
“Commander, they are in two of the containers!” Teresa’s voice was cut off by the sound of gunfire.
Another massive volley from the Tamarisk finally cut its way through the hull armour of the tug vessel and a small explosion must have cut her power as the ship went dark, its weapons either destroyed or offline. Either way, both of the enemy ships were drifting without power and they appeared defenceless.
“Bishop, get down there and give them a hand, we can’t let them get inside, one thermal charge and we’re screwed!”
“Yes, Sir!” There wasn’t a moment’s pause as Bishop tore off his harness and pulled down his helmet from the mount next to the display. Clicking it into place he pushed off and moved back towards the hatch leading down to the spine. He didn’t bother grabbing a weapon as he was already wearing a C9 automag in his thigh holster, a common black market weapon that was available at almost every station and platform in the Confederacy. He undid the seal and pulled open the hatch that led dir
ectly into the airlock section, the final divider between the crew and passenger section and the cargo and transport part of the ship. As the door closed behind him the hatch in front opened up to a blazing firefight between Barca and Teresa and a number of armoured men. He was forced to pull himself out of the way as a series of low velocity slugs pattered away at the door.
“Get out of the way!” shouted Teresa who was busy blasting away from behind the pockmarked cover she had set up.
He pulled himself up against the wall and looked along the corridor to the sight of five men, all in military issue body armour. It was the old specification carapace system that fifty years ago was the standard gear used by marines and soldiers in the armed forces. It was much thicker and more cumbersome than the PDS now used. In many ways it was better suited to large-scale ground warfare with its greater resilience to weapon fire and fragmentation. There were still some units being equipped to reserve units in the army, though the marines had phased out using them.
Bishop pulled out his automag and flicked the catch to ready it for combat. Unlike most of the weapons now used it still used a manual bolt and firing pin system like twenty-first century weapons. Aiming carefully he pointing it at the two men who had just climbed out of the container hatch. The first looked back and quickly moved out of the way fire. Barca pushed himself up adjusting his position so that he could bring down fire onto the head of the nearest man. He pulled the trigger releasing a long burst of fire that was so fast it sounded like a zip being undone. It wasn’t as powerful as the military grade weapons they were used to, but the sheer weight of fire caught both men and knocked them back. As one struck the wall he lost his grip on his rifle and tumbled back into the open space in the corridor. The second man tried to hang on but ended up spinning around. Not wanting to miss the opportunity Teresa leaned out from her cover and took careful aim with the riot carbine. She pulled the secondary trigger and sent a blast of superheated thermal pellets. The whole group were struck by the blast though no major injuries or damage were caused. In the confusion of the blast she pulled the primary trigger and released a three round burst hitting the closest man’s hand. Additional bursts struck both men across their bodies and one in the head. In just a few seconds they were both dead. The other three made a desperate rush to the rear of the vessel to try and escape from the gunfire.
Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy Page 43
