Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  As he looked around open area he noticed a dark shape moving closer. He almost lifted his arms to strike when he heard Misaki speak again, this time she was almost touching his face. She must have moved around and directly blocked his line of sight.

  “Spartan...” she whispered.

  He felt her cool skin against him and then her face touched his. He tried to adjust his position as their lips met, both falling from the wooden benches to the hard and uncomfortable floor. Spartan flat on his back and Misaki draped across him. He tried to get back up but she held him down.

  “Are you going to join them?” she said quietly.

  Spartan lay there, saying nothing, just breathing quietly. Not that he didn’t like Misaki where she was, it was just the last time anything like this had been back on the Santa Cruz with Teresa. As he lay there thinking of her and what she must be doing right now he completely forgot about the half-naked Misaki still straddled across him. With a sigh of discontent she lifted herself up and back into the darkness, leaving Spartan to his thoughts.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mechanical slave labour had been experimented with several times in the history of the Colonies. The most significant flirtations with the technology took place prior to the Great War and had led to three bloody riots and strikes by workers. The Confederacy after all was designed for its citizens and in the end a simple ban on machines that took the work of citizens was put in place. Even so, machines that could do jobs that humans could not were never outlawed and they were frequently used by the military. One reminder of this decision is some of the machine smashing festivals held by some families still on Kerberos.

  History of Slave Labour

  Commander Anderson stood against the wall, holding onto the rails as he looked at his prisoner. The man was locked in the brig, the smallest room in the entire ship and protected by ten centimetres of thickened metal all around. The man was still, looking back at the crew of the Tamarisk with the same level of interest that they held of him. Contrary to what he might think the Commander was no animal and he was almost certainly waiting for something violent and terrible to happen to him. Commander Anderson had spent a long time on the Rim and had experienced all kinds of crime and brutality but that had never changed his mind on physical torture, it had always been abhorrent to him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t use more creative ways to get information out of his prisoner.

  “Crap, Bishop, are you sure this is the best way to get there?” asked Teresa who stood a metre away and held onto the side in the same manner.

  “The route Kowalski gave us means we need to change velocity and heading at specific intervals. The normal accelerate, turn and slow down model ain’t gonna cut it today. Just listen out for the warning buzzer and hold on. The next change is due in seven minutes.”

  The route to Prometheus was unlike anything any of them had ever been on before. Both the ship and the computer systems were being pushed to the limits and they were all aware of the danger they would be in if the vessel missed one of the way points by even a few kilometres. As Teresa thought about the route she watched Anderson as he stared at the prisoner. The slender officer looked almost like a schoolboy with his trademark unkempt hair and freckled face. For a second she had doubts about whether he was the right man for a mission like this one. She had seen him in action though and he was easily capable of leadership and violence when the moment called for it.

  Teresa placed her hand over her mouth for a moment before straightening up.

  “You okay?” asked the Commander.

  “I’ll live, the trip is a bit rough.”

  “Watch yourself, throwing up in a vacuum ain’t pretty!”

  “Thanks, that helps!”

  Teresa glared at him and it didn’t take long for him to succumb and burst into laughter. The sounds echoed through the open spaces of the ship as it hurtled on its new and uncomfortable route. He pulled out the intercom and hit the general broadcast button.

  “Find yourselves somewhere comfortable to hole up, this trip is about to get bumpy.”

  * * *

  Spartan woke to find himself on the floor and with the most outrageous backache. The chamber was bathed in the dull light that their captors considered normal. Most of the other prisoners were stood up, looking around at the fuss in the open space between the cell areas. He started to get up but the pain forced him to stay down for a moment. At first he thought he might be injured but then he remembered the previous night, Misaki jumping on him and then falling to the ground. He moved slowly this time and managed to sit up as the pain started to subside.

  “Misaki?” he called, unable to see her.

  A siren sound echoed through the chamber and from the right the great shielded door that led back to the surface open to reveal a dozen guards and ten times that number of prisoners.

  “Holy shit, man, have you seen this?” asked one of the men.

  With a great effort Spartan got to his feet and hobbled over to the large barred doorway to watch the spectacle.

  “They’re like us, man, just like us!” cried a women in despair as more started shouting.

  “Where are they getting them and why isn’t somebody doing something about it?”

  “Fucking Confed leaving us out here!”

  “Hey! What have you done to help the Confederacy other than bitch and whine?” asked Spartan, his blood starting to get fired up. All his life he had heard the whining from bleeding heart liberals about one group being upset or offended but they never seemed to lift a finger to help anyone, except when it made them look good.

  “The Confederate military have died in their thousands to protect people like you. Maybe if more of you had been as angry a few months ago we could have crushed the insurgency and these scum before it got worse!”

  The rest of them kept quiet as they continued to watch the scores of people file down into the open space. Just as when they arrived, they started to receive their welcoming speech.

  “This room was empty when we arrived, right?” asked the woman, quickly forgetting what Spartan had said.

  “Yeah, so?” answered another.

  “So if it was empty, were we the first to get here?”

  “No. I’ve spoken to a few people here and this place has been running for months, maybe even years. The last red group must have transferred to the re-education programme or maybe they joined the rest of the prisoners if they weren’t strong enough.”

  “Or they were killed in the sick little arena games of theirs?” came a familiar voice.

  Spartan moved towards the sound, past the other prisoners before coming to two men, both seated in the corner.

  “Son of a bitch!” Spartan said with obvious pleasure in his voice.

  In front of him sat General Rivers and Marcus Keller, his two comrades from Kerberos.

  “Spartan, I see you’ve been pissing off the local girls again?” asked Marcus, the tall, strong looking German. His family were descended from one of the earliest colonial expeditions to Terra Nova, over three hundred years before. At least that is how he told the story, there were certainly very few German-speaking communities left now.

  Spartan turned to his left to see an angry looking Misaki trying to discreetly hide behind one of the other prisoners. He was confused, as he hadn’t done anything wrong, to the contrary he had been nothing if noble towards her. He held out his arms towards her, trying to indicate something, anything to her. She recoiled though and shifted back. He sighed and turned back to Marcus.

  “Right, you know me. I see you’ve both got your red armbands, welcome to the club.”

  General Rivers beckoned for him to sit down next to him on the corner bench.

  “I heard they sent you to the Governor. What did you find out?”

  “For starters one of the guards did this,” he said quietly, showing them his unlocked manacles. “Anyway, the Governor wants military trained people to join their side. He has detailed files on me, I assume he will have
the same on you both too.”

  Marcus looked confused at his comment.

  “Don’t they already have enough people? From what I’ve seen the Zealots and their friends already have more than enough people to fight their wars.”

  “That’s what I thought, apparently not though, unless it’s just some kind of scam to make us do something. They seem to be collecting people for some kind of epic projects. The only other option is that this is just a glorified extermination camp.”

  Marcus shook his head.

  “No way, man, I ain’t going to no bonfire!” he said angrily, shifting from side to side. General Rivers sat listening intently, taking in all the details before speaking.

  “What about this red band stuff? One of the women said they put you up against a Biomech? Where the hell did they find those things?”

  “Remember the capsules on the ship that brought us here, Sir? They must bring them here for training or something. I don’t know, all I know is that they don’t seem particularly worried about killing us just as long as enough of us keep working with the labour gangs or fighting their pets.”

  “I’m sure Confed is doing whatever they can to track us down, what concerns me is that if we didn’t know this place existed, then how in the hell will anybody find it now and connect it to our disappearance?”

  “You’re also assuming they think we are still alive. What if they just said we were executed or died in an accident? Confed has bigger things to worry about right now, Sir.”

  “Too bloody right it has. Half the colonies have seceded and those that are left are the smallest and least populated in the System. We’re gonna need a miracle just to survive this one, let alone actually fight back.” Marcus added in a firm tone.

  With a familiar sound the barred door slid open to reveal a group of guards. They spoke to one of the prisoners and then escorted him away. This time they didn’t leave immediately. The nearest guard spoke first.

  “Six more to join your little group,” he said as he pushed in another small band of haggard and angry looking people. “I have a have a special message from the Governor.”

  Reaching inside his combat vest he pulled out a piece of paper and held it in front of him.

  “Today you will be split into three groups. Your test will be one of wit and intelligence, as well as strength. The group that takes the least casualties will be offered a place in our re-education programme. The rest will be returned here to await tomorrow’s challenge. The groups will consist of those of you with criminal backgrounds in one, Confed personnel in another and the third and final group made up of those of you who don’t fit into either group. Remember, we want only the fittest, strongest and most capable in our programme.”

  The guard put the paper back into his pocket before sliding the barred door shut. One of the new prisoners, a broad shouldered and muscular man grabbed the bars and shouted back.

  “Why would I want to join your pissing programme?”

  The guard turned back to him. “It’s your choice, just remember, nobody lasts more than two weeks in the red group. Do well and get out, or die, that’s the choice,” he replied before starting to laugh.

  The man continued shouting at them but they turned away and walked off to join another group of their comrades.

  “Hey!” Spartan tried to gain the attention of the new prisoner.

  “What?” barked the man, as he turned and stared back at him, his look was one intended to intimidate but it did nothing of the sort.

  Spartan glanced at him, noticing the tattoos running up his arms. On one arm was the Army crest, or at least that is what it looked like from where he was sat. The man was bare-chested and a number of marks and scars indicated either he had a lot of medical work or more likely he was a combat veteran.

  “You military?”

  “Yeah, Army Alpha Team, why?”

  “I thought so, you don’t have the brains for the marines!” laughed Spartan.

  “Marines?” answered the man with a little disdain before realising he was talking to a marine. The rivalry between the Army, Navy and Marines was well documented and more violent than even that between the Marine Corps units themselves.

  “I thought I was the only Confed man here.” He marched over and to sit down next to Marcus. As he came closer Spartan could make out the Alpha logo on his bicep. It wasn’t a group he knew much about other than that they often competed with the Marine Recon units at some of the inter-service athletic events. At least, that is what he remembered from basic training, it wasn’t like he had been in the Corps long enough to participate in anything like that.

  “My name’s Claus, Corporal 14th Colonial Regiment, Alpha.”

  “How did you get here?” Marcus asked him.

  “We were part of the advanced units deployed on board a suspected hijack near Khimaira. It was a liner, supposedly over three thousand passengers and crew. We boarded the ship and found Zealots in control, about thirty of them. We cleared the decks and regained control of the ship, that’s when we found them.”

  “Found who?” Spartan asked him.

  “The passengers. Every single one was inside some kind of liquid capsule. We opened one, the passenger died in less than a minute. I don’t know what was going on but there must have been a thousand of them. We hacked the log and the navigation computer to get intel. The ship was being controlled remotely via a computer system but it locked us out before we could get a trace. It seemed they were been shipped off to Orthrus though.”

  “Orthrus, they seceded along with Kerberos right?” asked Marcus.

  “Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard half the planets in the System have seceded. The video reports we saw said Kerberos, Prime, Orthrus and Agora have all lifted the finger to the Confederacy. That’s all the big worlds gone.”

  “I don’t get it, why were they at Khimaira to start with? It’s just a gas giant.”

  General Rivers cut in. “There is more to it than that, Khimaira is surrounded by mining and research stations. In many ways it shares a lot with Prometheus apart from the planet’s surface being completely inhospitable. There are platforms in the lower atmosphere, low enough to provide a modicum of gravity, they’re more like floating cities than stations.”

  The soldier appeared more relaxed now as he sat in the company of other veterans. There was something about him though that made Spartan, and to a lesser extent General Rivers, uneasy. Maybe it was just the Army’s inbuilt machismo or maybe it was something else. Claus noticed Spartan staring at him and he automatically glared back.

  “Hey, haven’t I seen you guys before?” he asked as he glanced at the men sideways. Then, as if a light had been flicked on inside his head he recognised Marcus. “Yeah, I know. You’re the guys they fingered on Kerberos, for the coup right?”

  “Fingered isn’t exactly the word I would use.”

  “Yeah, they fingered us alright, it was a serious set up. We were part of the security detail and tried to stop the massacre. In the end we got framed for the whole thing, why do you think they dumped us here instead of going to trial?” added Spartan.

  The group fell silent for a few seconds when the soldier broke the uncomfortable silence. “Whatever, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re all screwed in this dump!”

  General Rivers turned to the bars and looked out into the open area to check what was happening. He had heard several groups being sent out to the work projects but so far none had come back and one should have returned in the last hour. He thought about mentioning it before spotting a small party arriving at the far end. He couldn’t see who they were but there were at least twenty of them. He turned back to Claus.

  “You didn’t say how they caught you?”

  The soldier put his chin in his hand for a moment as he thought back to whatever calamity had befallen him. Like the rest of the prisoners they had all experienced a variety of horrors and his must have been of a similar nature. He took a deep breath before turning ba
ck to the General.

  “It is pretty simple. The escorts for the liner must have been away on another raid because about six hours into our operation we received a distress call from our frigate and then nothing. The bastards must have destroyed her when they came back. All I know is twenty minutes later a dozen gunboats and small vessels docked with the liner and unloaded about a hundred personnel including ten of those Biomechs. You ever fought one of those things?” he asked with a genuine look of horror on his face.

  “Yeah, once or twice,” said Spartan as he threw a glance over to his comrades.

  “We held them for nearly an hour, in the end we were down to side arms when they sent in those things. We tried to hold them off but they are just too much. Only me and one other guy survived, the rest they tore apart, literally before our eyes. They must have knocked us out or drugged us or something, next thing I know I’m being dumped on this rock.”

  “Same story for all of us then. Where is your partner?”

  The soldier shrugged, not answering Marcus, he looked around at the rest of the group and then back to the three men. “So what’s the deal then, they interrogating us or something?”

  Spartan pointed to a column of about thirty people marching out and towards one of the opening doors.

  “Not sure yet. Most of the people coming in are being sent off to work on various projects expanding this place. From what I’ve seen it is massive, truly massive. They are working on big projects here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Good question, something to do with resources for the enemy. Food, supplies, weapons, equipment or maybe just a simple indoctrination and training centre for new soldiers.”

  “Like a factory for Zealots?”

  “Interesting, it could be or maybe machines or even ships,” replied General Rivers.

  “Ships? You think they could build something like that and not be noticed?”