Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  Directly in front was the massive entrance to the trading station and it was already clear the entrance was designed to impress. Apart from a vast circular floor there were three spiral staircases winding around what appeared to be a statue of a man planting a tool of some kind into the ground. Scores of large displays, many over five metres high, pushed up from the ground and around them hundreds of people moved about. Many rushing about their business, the rest gazed intently at the information being provided.

  “Wow, nice digs,” said Bishop.

  “Yeah, wonderful,” said Teresa as she scanned from left to right. “There, the desks, we need the route to the place.”

  They made their way across the crowded foyer. As they walked Bishop was amazed at the variety of people. Some were just workers but there were also mercenaries walking about in full army issue carapace armour. As two walked past he tapped Teresa on the shoulder. She tilted her head slightly, watching them.

  “I know, remember what Angelo said about the weapons and security.”

  They continued on past the people until they were close enough to the desks to see the screens above them. There were eight desks and each one carried two displays overhead. Anderson waved for Bishop to take the ones to his left. Teresa did the same to the right and she spotted the fair almost immediately.

  “Look, we take the route past the stairs, through the doors and then follow the red line till we reach the convention reception.”

  Anderson nodded in satisfaction and pointed in the direction they needed to go.

  “Shall we?” he asked rhetorically.

  They left the desks and moved past the staircase. It was less busy along this part of the foyer but there were still a lot of people milling about. As they reached the doors a man in an armoured suit and carrying a box on his shoulder walked towards them. As they went to go through the doorway he turned and glanced at them.

  “Arms Fair?” he asked.

  Teresa looked to Anderson who simply nodded.

  “Don’t bother, you’re too late now. Something’s going on down there and they’re kicking customers out,” he said and then continued on his way.

  “What the hell?” called Bishop before turning and running down the corridor. Commander Anderson tried to grab his attention but he was already around the corner. Teresa looked to him before he gave her the nod. They ran the short distance to find Bishop and about a dozen irritable people milling about outside the entrance to the convention centre. Bishop stood there shaking his head as Anderson walked up to the two mercenaries who were guarding the doorway. He was about to speak when two men and a woman in white overalls, and the symbols of the Prometheus Emergency Clinic, emerged pulling a wheeled stretcher out of the room. On top was a covered object, presumably a body.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” said Teresa quietly to herself.

  Anderson stepped aside to let the medical personnel pass him, before moving closer to the guards. As he approached he noticed one of them moving his hand down to a weapon on his belt. Anderson made sure he kept his hands in plain sight, directly in front of him.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Who knows, we opened for viewings ten minutes ago and that’s when we found him.”

  “Are you going to re-open?”

  “No, the fair is shut till tomorrow, the investigators will need time with this one. Why, who are you after?”

  “Maximilian Hex, we have an appointment,” replied Commander Anderson.

  “Had, I think you’ll find is the correct syntax. He’s the guy under the sheet,” said the guard with what appeared to be a leering grin.

  Teresa moved up to the Commander and Bishop moved discreetly over to the stretcher to try and get a look.

  “Hey, what do you want?” said one of the startled medics.

  “Uh, nothing,” said a dumbfounded Bishop.

  Anderson shook his head and then indicated for the other two to follow him. As they walked from the entrance Teresa spoke first.

  “So he’s dead, minutes before we arrive. Is it me or does that seen a little bit convenient?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s time we paid our friend Angelo a little visit!” said an angry looking Anderson.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hundreds of years after the bayonet appeared irrelevant marines and soldiers throughout the Confederacy are still using it. Why still use them when modern body armour and weapons makes their use unnecessary? To quote a marine Captain, “What a thing guarding prisoners. The look on their faces when you have a 12 gauge shotgun with 17" of gleaming steel fixed to it----Priceless for compliance. There were Occasions when we fixed Bayonets during Cordon and Raids for the psychological fear they instilled…”

  The Military Bayonet

  Commander Anderson was first through the door and into the foyer. As he pushed through the crowd a concerned looking Teresa checked layout plans on her datapad. She’d already contacted Kowalski on the Tamarisk and a quick search had found the location of Maximilian Hex’s apartment. Anderson had sent for Angelo and three of his best mercs to meet them there. As she finished checking the route she called out to the Commander.

  “Are we sure we can trust them? What if they were behind this?”

  “Who knows? Right now we need information and fast. The data I have on Angelo tells me he is unlikely to turn so easily. Either way, we’ll know based on how he and his team responds at the room,” he said as he stopped for a moment. He looked to the left and then back at the staircases. “Up the stairs, three floors and then past the security desk, right?”

  “That’s what Kowalski said,” replied Teresa.

  Bishop moved ahead and started climbing the wide, marble effect staircase. As they went up they were granted a perfect view of the elaborate foyer with its many people and large glass windows. As they reached higher it was possible to make out the glowing red feature of the burning planet of Prometheus below.

  “You said you worked on that place?” asked a surprised looking Bishop.

  “For a time, we moved around a lot. You can make a lot of money if you’re in the right place and the right time down there,” she explained.

  “Yeah, I heard that. Unregulated private sector work with a high mortality rate. Sounds a bit like what we all do now!” he grinned as they reached the exit point on the third floor. “This is us.”

  Anderson moved towards the small security desk where a bored looking man sat watching a screen. He wore a grey suit and had no obvious weapons or armour. Behind him was a smart looking corridor with reflective metal surfaces and flushed door fittings spaced equally apart. It was undoubtedly one of the more expensive parts of the station.

  “Can I help you?” asked the man.

  Anderson was about to speak when a group of four men, all in smart suits approached. Teresa instantly recognised the face of Angelo leading them. Each of the men was tall and well built. To her they had the look of military or at least had been military in the past. Angelo moved closer and stopped next to the security man.

  “Excellent, these are my guests from the trading floor, please buzz them in,” he asked politely.

  The guard tapped a few buttons and with a bored look waved them on. The three needed no reminder and moved quickly past the desk, following Angelo and his companions along the corridor.

  “What was that all about?” asked Teresa.

  “In this place it pays to have a cover. I’ve been working as a fixer for sometime now.”

  “A fixer?” asked Bishop.

  “Yes. Someone who finds things or people then puts them together with others for deal and contracts. You can find a bit of everything in this place, but you need to be able to open certain doors or to make contact with the right people. That is how I was able to get you access to the arms fair.”

  “Yeah, big help that was,” snarled Bishop.

  “I only heard about that a few moments after you left. It would appear contact was made from a source outside of this
System that was acted on immediately. I have people investigating but I’m not hopeful. Someone didn’t want you to find him and it looks like they made it with minutes to spare. Did you hear how he died?”

  “Let me guess, an accident?” suggested Commander Anderson.

  “Not quite, he was shot in the head with a military issue L48 carbine. Normally that wouldn’t be so unusual, but there are now rumours spreading that Confed forces are moving onto the stations here. One thing they don’t like out here is anybody telling them how to run things.”

  They continued in silence before coming to the end of the corridor that split off to the left and right. The route looked identical in either direction. Angelo indicated for them to turn left but before they could move one of his men flew back a metre and slumped to the ground dead. There was a hole the size of a tennis ball in his forehead.

  “Back!” shouted the Commander as they all jumped for cover. With the corridor clear the only safety they had was to not move around the corner.

  Teresa and Bishop both pulled out their concealed synthetic pistols. The weapons were small, snub-nosed affairs with small, low velocity disintegrating projectiles. They were useless for military operations but perfect for covert action, assassination or for getting through security clearance. They were also extremely expensive. A volley of almost silenced gunshots blasted down the corridor forcing the six of them to stay where they were.

  “Somebody doesn’t want us getting there!” shouted Bishop before leaning around the corner and firing three quick shots. The gun sounded like a hammer striking wood, the sound dull and unlike any other firearm. He ducked back.

  “I can see three guys, they have a cabinet or something overturned and are hunkered down behind it. No way to hit them.”

  Angelo signalled to his two remaining men who pulled off their suit jackets to reveal body fitting ammunition belts and concealed fully automatic machine pistols. They pulled out the weapons and slammed in the long stick magazines. One leaned around the corner and fired a long burst as the second pulled a small hockey puck shaped grenade and hurled it along the corridor. The flash was followed by a concussive blast that shook the floor.

  “Go!” shouted Angelo.

  The two men with machine pistols pushed forward, each of them firing bursts of two or three shots as they rushed the enemy position. Teresa followed, the rest were right behind her. In seconds they were over the cabinet and amongst the bullet-ridden corpses of their attackers. Three metres behind the men was the damaged doorway leading into Maximilian Hex’s apartment.

  “We won’t have much time, private security around here is fast and violent, and I’d say four minutes, five tops.”

  As Commander Anderson rushed through the door he turned back to Angelo.

  “Okay, you watch the corridor, we’ll be three minutes and then we need to go, fast!”

  As the three entered the room the excess immediately hit them. The space was voluminous, especially on a station where every cubic metre cost money. The walls were adorned with fine paintings and much of the furniture antique.

  “We haven’t got long, we need records, and any kind of data that can help us find the prisoners.”

  Teresa moved off towards the door to the bedroom and Bishop checked the furniture and floor for anything helpful. Some of the shelves had been forced, somebody, possibly the men from outside, had already been ransacking the place. As Teresa entered the bedroom she cried out and then went silent.

  Bishop rushed closer and peered around the doorframe. A pistol shot blasted past and tore a painting from the wall.

  “Come any nearer and the next one goes in her head!” shouted a man in the room.

  Bishop turned to Anderson and indicated for him to take up position on the other side of the doorframe. Anderson lifted his hand, showing he was going to go high and Bishop low. With a final nod they counted with their hands and then rushed in. The man wore a suit and was holding Teresa up against the wall with a pistol to her temple. As they came in Teresa struck the man hard with her elbow, forcing the pistol away from her face for a brief moment. It wasn’t much of a window but it was enough. Bishop fired a single shot into the man’s chest that pushed him back, Commander Anderson placed a beautifully aimed shot into the man’s forehead that sent a spray of blood and gore against the wall. Teresa jumped away from the carnage to stand next to Bishop.

  “Thanks!” she laughed nervously.

  Anderson was busy looking at a series of papers and a portable security terminal that the man must have been trying to leave with. His attention was caught by something on the display.

  “What is it?” asked Bishop.

  “It’s still signed in, some kind of communication between this guy and a high security location.”

  “How can you tell?” asked Teresa.

  “Well, for starters it says High Security Communication along the top of the unit. There’s a map showing several sites in this sector as well as a partially written message, look,” he said as he lifted up the heavy unit and dumped it onto a worktop.

  Bishop looked around the unit, checking it for signs of common connections or access points. As he examined the device he shook his head.

  “Never seen anything like this.”

  “I have, these are used on ships and stations for encrypted communication between command units, whoever Hex was talking to was important. The map shows four locations. One is an underground site in Avagana, the second is an old research station below on Prometheus, the third is the Titan Naval Station and the fourth is an unidentified point 50AU away from Prime.”

  “Fifty? That is further out than all the planets? What is it?”

  “Bishop, that I don’t know,” said Commander Anderson as he zoomed out and then zoomed down to the planet of Prime.

  “Teresa, check this a moment, wouldn’t you say this corresponds with…”

  “The Bone Mill” she added before he could finish.

  “Exactly. My hunch is these four sites are connected in someway with the insurgents. Titan Naval Station was obviously the location for a major insurgent action and for sometime was held by their forces. The Bone Mill is still a stronghold for their forces and if you remember was the launching point for a Biomech assault. This location on Prometheus is unknown but what are the odds it’s equally involved?”

  “Interesting. What about the location out in space? It could me a meeting point of some kind?”

  “Why so far out though, Teresa? A reasonably fast ship would take about three weeks to make that trip. That would hardly useful for trading or transit. It must be something else.”

  “Have you seen this list of materials?” asked Bishop.

  The three examined the document on the unit. It displayed a list of shipments of heavy materials, girders, security gear, metal plating and much more.

  “This is big, really big. We’re talking enough materials to build a medium sized space station and according to these logs it has all been going to one of the old compounds on Prometheus.”

  “It’s unusual but why would that be anything to do with our mission, Sir?”

  “Good point, Teresa. If you look at this list though you can see food, water and medical supplies going to the same place. More interestingly though is the quantities, this is more material than we needed for six months on the Crusader. We’re talking about two thousand personnel there. This compound has been receiving more than that every week.”

  “Every week? That would mean they have thousand and thousands down there,” added Bishop.

  Anderson read a few more details before turning to Teresa.

  “Teresa, get Angelo in here.”

  “You sure about that, Sir?”

  “I think so, Bishop. They did their work here and lost a man in the process, we can’t ask for more.”

  Teresa headed for the door as Anderson continued examining the computer system. Bishop moved to the stack of papers that had been in a briefcase and laid them out on the unit
. As he shuffled through them Angelo arrived without his men.

  “We can’t stay any longer, have you got what you needed?”

  “Just look at this, quickly!” said Anderson.

  Angelo stepped forward and looked at the display. He traced the screen with his hand and seemed intrigued by the location on the planet surface.

  “Interesting.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the Commander.

  “We heard rumours sometime ago that something strange was going on at that place. We did land a team to investigate but all they found was a partially completed shipyard. It wasn’t licensed, but then what is around here?”

  “But look at the food and supplies being sent down there. No way can that just be a shipyard,” said Anderson.

  “What if they are sending human labour to the compound and using them in their production process?” suggested Teresa.

  “What? Are you serious?” asked a surprised Bishop.

  “Hold on, she has a point,” said Angelo as he pulled out his own datapad and checked a few details. It took a few seconds before he brought up an image of a transport ship.

  “We picked up a distress call from this area about an hour ago, the local rescue unit said they were responding so we ignored it. The interesting thing though is it is from the exact same location as where all these supplies were supposed to be heading. A report came in just before you contacted me to say it was a fire alert, nothing more serious. If you look at the logs on my datapad though, what do you see?”

  Teresa examined the data but couldn’t quite see the correlation.

  “Look, on this transport route vessels move back and forth one a day. Since the alert came over a dozen ships have been making their way to the drop-off point to the planet. You see the ships need to drop smaller vessels to make the trip to the surface. If you ask me it looks like a force is assembling to be sent in.”

  Commander Anderson lowered the lid of the computer and turned to the group.

  “A revolt with the workers down there?” asked Bishop.