Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  Sliding her finger over the message she spelled out a set of revised orders as well as a full copy of the intelligence data to be sent to the Tamarisk. Hopefully the information would prove useful in their attempts to locate the General. As she pressed the button to send the encrypted and classified message back to the ship she noticed movement at the far end of the plaza. Placing the datapad back into its pouch she made her way to the observation windows where a small number of workmen had already moved to. As she approached a few of the men spotted her and quickly moved back, one of them coughed to get the attention of the rest before she arrived. Upon reaching the toughened and recently replaced glass she looked out at the moving shape.

  “It’s the Resolution, Sir,” said one of the workers.

  “The Resolution? I thought she was a hulk.”

  Admiral Jarvis watched the massive grey ship move slowly away from its mooring and towards one of the cleared dock areas.

  “I don’t think she’s functional,” she said pointing out to the bow of the ship. “If you look carefully, Colonel, you can see the tugs pulling her away from the station. According to the damage report though it seems that with a repaired core and a new fire control system installed she might actually be usable.”

  “I don’t understand, I thought she was already crippled beyond use in the battle for the station? When our marines took the station she was out of action already. If her guns had been active it would have been a suicide mission.”

  “True. It looks like the crew were able to sabotage the ship before it was overrun. They damaged the power corps and destroyed all of the fire control system making her dead in the water and impotent.”

  As they watched the vessel move away Admiral Jarvis rechecked the battle damage again on her datapad. By her calculations, if there were any chance of getting the heavy cruiser patched up it would help boost her meagre forces to something a little respectable. Though the numbers were not all in yet she had a confirmed list of six capital ships, three marine assault transport ships and up to eighteen frigates plus an unknown numbers of cutters, corvettes and destroyers. It was hardly a fleet worth of the Great War where dozens of capital ships gathered for apocalyptical battles. It might be enough though to conduct significant operations in this System. At present she was down on heavy warships with both the Crusader and Vengeance undergoing substantial repairs.

  “I think I’ve seen enough. If you’ll excuse me, Colonel, I need to return to the CiC. Please continue as you were, you are running an excellent operation and I have no doubt that both the station and the Fleet will be fully operational and ready to conduct combat operations in a matter of days.”

  The two officers saluted before turning to their previous duties. As the Admiral marched off the Colonel turned and watched just for a moment as she disappeared into one of the many corridors, closely escorted by her bodyguards. He turned back to the work crews and shouted out to a small group of men working on a power coupling.

  “Chief, where are we on the Point Defence System?”

  The short, slightly overweight man in the orange jacket of the deck chief lowered his tools and spoke a few words before getting up and walking towards the approaching officer.

  “Sorry, Sir, what was that?”

  “I need an update on the PDS?”

  “We’re hitting a few problems. The power lines to the core were fried in the attack and we have to reroute them through the old copper lines. The output is a lot lower but I reckon we can have about half the system up and providing basic defensive screening in about twenty hours.”

  “Good, good. Any chance of getting the full system up after that?”

  “The full system? No way, we’ll have to rebuild the entire power network for that. I’d need about fifty men and two months minimum to do that, Sir.”

  “What if I could get you two hundred men and all the power lines and hardware I can salvage from the carcass of the Victorious?” asked the Colonel with a slightly raised eye.

  “Well, if you can pull that off I reckon we can get it done in about a quarter of the time. If you can scrounge the power lines from the ship we could even get some of the primary anti-ship railguns running again, Sir.”

  “Alright, consider it done. I’ll see you again tomorrow and I’ll bring you news on the hardware you need.”

  The Chief smiled before realising quite how much extra work he had just volunteered for. He opened his mouth to respond but the Colonel was well gone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cases of cell mutation were first recorded on the manned missions to Mars back in the old Solar System. Direct exposure to radiation with little shielding resulted in abnormalities and many children were born with deficiencies and long-term problems. Screening of newborns was the only option until the development in the late 21stcentury of adequate radiation shielding equipment. Even then some of the more crude ships and bases lacked decent protection until the mid 22nd century. By this point, tens of thousands had been affected and the scourge of mutation became a known and terrifying problem.

  Lessons on Mutation

  Spartan stood in line along with what must have been about another hundred prisoners. They’d been granted just a few hours sleep before being forced to meet in the main hall of their wing in the compound. The internal structure was crude and certainly not a military or research laboratory site. Though there was much space, this part of the facility had been built by simply blasting through the hard rock on the planet to create living space. There was no heating, not that it was needed, as all the stonework was warm to the touch but not too hot that it burned. The side effect was that the overall temperature was hot and it made breathing and sleeping difficult. As he stood there Spartan could see the sweat dripping from the prisoners, each one of them losing substantial amounts of water.

  In front of the group was a nasty looking man. He was short and squat, stripped to the waist and carrying a coiled whip on his side. Dotted throughout the area were a number of armed guards, some watching the group the rest just relaxing, obviously used to the day-to-day grind at the compound.

  “My name is Vespis and this place is your new home, it is also your last home!” shouted the little man as he paced along the group.

  “Some of you are here because you owe money, others because of your crimes and the rest for just being assholes! I don’t care though because now you belong to me!” He then stopped in front of them.

  “Remember what the Governor told each of you, the entire site is protected by automated sentry units as well as over a hundred armed guards. There are only two ways out of this compound. One is by visiting the surface. That is a one-way ticket by the way and the punishment for repeatedly breaking our rules or refusing orders. The second is a lottery for those who do as they are told. Each day a random selection of you will be given the only opportunity you will ever have to leave here alive. This is a trip to the re-education and social rehabilitation centre.”

  Spartan wasn’t interested in the options right now, all he could think about were the numbers of guards in the facility. Over one hundred was a massive amount. A hundred guards must mean there were thousands of prisoners, maybe more. This was a much bigger operation than he had ever expected.

  “If you obey the rules you will receive privileges.” He raised both hands up and as if by magic it seemed, a loud buzz echoed through the chamber before settling to a low hum. At first it wasn’t clear what was actually happening until a blast of cool air moved into the open space. It felt as if they were standing outdoors in a light breeze before it eased and started to reduce the overall temperature.

  “The entire compound has its air scrubbed and cooled, that goes for this area too. Every section can be cut off and experience shows you will sweat out every last drop of water in hours. Any breaking of the rules will result in a six-hour penalty with the scrubbers switched off. Anybody breaks the rules twice and you pay a visit to the surface. That is the one-way trip!” he snarled and then waited
for the information to sink in.

  “Now, there are plenty more people coming from where you came from. You’re cheap and we can afford to lose some of you working here, so don’t fuck around!”

  There was a stunned silence in the hall as the prisoners stood in a mixture of fear and relief at the switching on of the scrubbers and coolers. Cool air or not, it was obvious to them all that this was a one-way assignment and some were already showing signs of they would probably give up early.

  “Each of you will be assigned a coloured band which you will wear at all times. The colour will indicate your group for work, rest and training. Failure to wear your band will constitute a breaking of the rules. Failure to comply with the orders of our officials or guards will constitute breaking of the rules.”

  He turned and continued walking, looking at the odd prisoner and then moving along. As he came closer Spartan did his best to avoid eye contact but it didn’t work. The short man stopped directly in front of him and looked carefully at his face.

  “You...you have military or combat training don’t you? Which unit?”

  Spartan was torn between telling the arrogant toad the truth revealing a secret that might be dangerous, or lying and being caught out. Both options could be as severe as each other. He decided to take the middle road and use an earlier truth, answering in a slow, monotone voice.

  “I used to be a pit fighter.”

  “Fighter, huh? We have fighters at the pits here on Prometheus. Ever fight on the station circuit here?”

  “Yes.”

  The little man stepped back with a smile on his face.

  “Good, then you must be the first volunteer for the red group. Take this and stand over there!” He handed Spartan a red elasticated band. He slid it on and looked over to where he was supposed to stand.

  “Don’t make me tell you twice!”

  Spartan didn’t wait, he moved forward and towards the space a short distance from the rest of the prisoners.

  “The red group is what I like to call the special group. It will get the toughest assignments but it will receive benefits and the chance to win your freedom. Anybody who works in the red group for one continuous week will be sent to our education programme. From there you will be,” he coughed quietly to himself, “reintegrated into society.”

  Spartan was hardly an intellectual but he could see the man was lying. Whatever this re-education thing was it wouldn’t be for any kind of freedom. The question was though, did he want to stay in the prison forever or did he want to try for the re-education and see if it would improve his chances of escape? As he stood there thinking, the man had stopped and was talking to more of the prisoners. It didn’t take long before the red group had expanded to twelve men and two women. There was one thing they all had in common. They were the fittest and strongest. That one fact scared Spartan more than anything else he had seen or heard in the last hour. They hadn’t selected General Rivers or Marcus as he could see they were still with the rest of the prisoners. Their lack of strength and injuries may have put the man off from selecting them, assuming there wasn’t another reason.

  “What the hell are they planning?” he muttered quietly to himself.

  Two more men in suits arrived and started handing out more of the bands but this time they appeared to be passing them out indiscriminately. As this continued the short man moved to the red group and checked each of them before stopping in the middle.

  “Come with me.” He then turned about and walked away.

  As he left two of the guards went alongside him and another four behind. A few of the red group started to move, then as if one they all walked away in a short, snaking column. They went towards the far side of the cavernous area to a locked bulkhead door about five metres wide. As they approached, the domed security units activated and scanned the group. The short man spoke quietly to the units that immediately turned around, their glowing red eyes watching the prisoners closely. As they were walking past the security system Spartan felt a horrible chill through his body when he noticed one of the red eyes turning to follow him. It was strange but he was convinced it adjusted and altered its focus as it watched him. Nothing happened though and just a short while later they were going uphill along a much more modern corridor. Unlike where they were sleeping, the walls were ribbed with metal and a series of low level lights guided them on their way. Continuing on, they were led up to a point where a bright dot of a light could be seen. As they continued moving Vespis, the man with the whip, called out to them.

  “When you reach your destination, just remember one thing, anyone who tries to leave or refuses to co-operate will be returned to the general population. Do it again and you will be sent to the surface for a little sun bathing.”

  Spartan tried to work out what was ahead but the low light in the corridor, coupled with the bright light in the distance, made it impossible to make out any kind of detail other than that the light was becoming bigger.

  “Where are we going?” asked one of the prisoners, a tall, strong looking man with a series of scars across his chest.

  Spartan looked back, assuming he was talking to the man behind him but when his gaze returned he noticed the man looking at him. Spartan shrugged.

  “Look, man, I’m not stupid. They took the strongest and put us together. From what the guy at the front said we aren’t going to like it.”

  “You’re probably right,” answered Spartan laconically.

  They were now only a short distance away and could see that the light was coming from a large open space that led out from the corridor. As they moved to within twenty metres Spartan spotted the first two guards, both in very heavy armour and equipped full modern rifles. They carried on and he was unsurprised to notice the markings on the armour, the same kind of snake symbol he had seen on the other armoured men. The doors were already open in front of them and in seconds they were all out of the corridor and in a large expanse of probably fifty metres radius. The perimeter and ceiling were masked in blackness, the only light coming from a wide skylight that lit up the centre of the place with a bright white light.

  “Stop!” shouted their leader who then moved back to face them.

  “This room is used as a test area for various subjects. We are looking for the strongest and those with the greatest survival instincts for a special project. It means better living conditions and movement to the re-education centre where you will eventually be placed back into society.”

  “Who put you in charge? Why are we here?” shouted a wide and powerful looking Asian man at the back of the group.

  “It doesn’t matter who we are. You are the prisoners and we are all that stands between life and death for you all. You may leave at any time, just ask for it and you will be taken out and released onto the planet’s surface,” he said as he leered at them.

  “Bastard!” shouted one of the men though he kept down low enough to not be seen.

  “You are all flawed, but you can take this as your opportunity to make amends. Remember...you can leave whenever you want.” With an evil smile he turned to a box that had just risen out of the floor.

  “Inside this box is a random selection of items. In ten minutes you will face a dangerous and deadly challenge. Those of you that survive will stay in the red group and return to your sleeping quarters at the end of the test.”

  There was a deafening silence as they stood in disbelief. Spartan looked about the group and then to their tormentor. “What if we chose to not participate in your test?”

  Vespis simply stood and stared at them for almost half a minute before speaking.

  “It is very, very simple. If you refuse to participate you will rejoin the rest of the prisoners and force a group punishment for breaking the rules.”

  “Screw this, I’m leaving!” shouted a scrawny looking man with long blond hair and thick, muscular arms.

  “Two breaks of the rules and you will be sent to the surface where you will be in the fire of Prometheus!”
He lifted his head and hand up high with an odd cackle in his voice.

  “What the hell is this guy’s problem?” muttered Spartan, a few of the others grumbled in agreement.

  “The only other option available to you is to follow through with the test and to fail it. Failure is an option but one I think you might want to avoid!” he laughed and then started to move away.

  “What’s going on here? Hey, you!” shouted an oriental woman who pushed to the front and reached out. She tried to touch the man but two of the armoured guards stepped in to block her path. Spartan grabbed her and pulled her close until her head was pushed up to his chest.

  “Don’t do that,” he whispered, “do you want to burn?”

  The woman pushed away and wiped her brow as she stared at Spartan. Of all them in the open area he was the only one that looked unfazed by what was happening. The man and his guards left quickly, leaving them all stood in the bright light of the high ceiling mounted light burning down to the box in the middle of the room.

  “What is this place?” asked the woman.

  “Looks like a yard to me,” answered one.

  “No way, man, it’s another prison area,” said another.

  “I know what this place is!” said Spartan with a firm tone in his voice.

  As the rest of the group started to move about, Spartan stood his ground and looked down at the floor and the scratches and markings. He knelt down and rubbed his hand on the floor, feeling the deep cuts and imperfections. As he concentrated on the floor the oriental woman approached him. Spartan sensed somebody moving and looked up to see her getting closer. Though her clothes were dirty and ragged he was surprised to see the poise and strength in her figure. He looked up at her pale face. Her ruffled hair ran down to just below the neck where it ended in rough curls. It must have been dyed as it contained streaks of blonde that were not her natural colour.