“We’re on Hell!” Bishop shouted through his headset.
Teresa turned back to the rest of the team, checking they were ready and fully armed. She carried an L48 carbine as well as several grenades mounted on her armour. In a holster on her hip was a P9 pistol, one of the items kept secure in the lockers of the ship.
“Let’s go!” she cried and led the team towards the doorway. Bishop moved off to the left side of the door and pulled out a small case with a computer bypass unit installed. He attached a ribbon cable and fibre optic authenticator and started the procedure.
“How long?” asked one of the heavily armoured mercs.
“Hopefully not too long, our suits can’t take this heat indefinitely,” said Teresa as she checked the suit monitors.
As she stood waiting the door suddenly opened revealing a low ceiling and wide corridor that ran in a circle inside the structure. She turned back to see Angelo and his team fanned out and checking the perimeter. He spotted her and waved.
“Bishop, we’ve secured the platform but we can’t stay out here, I suggest we move inside and guard the area from where you are. The heat will burn through these suits in ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Do it!” he said and then turned to the corridor. He was first inside, quickly followed by Teresa and the mercs. After just a few hundred metres it was very clear something was going on. A number of bodies littered the ground and more could be found the further inside they went. One feature missing on their armour was any kind of external microphone system, though the suits were fitted with alarms in case of sound induced weapons. Checking the atmosphere was safe she flicked the release catch and pulled off her helmet. Fresh air washed to her face as well the dry heat from the planet. What really hit her though was the sound of gunfire and shouting. Bishop did the same though the mercs stayed fully sealed, she had no doubt their armour was more advanced and better equipped than hers. They all kept running, still finding nothing but the occasional body dressed in rags. She turned to Bishop.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“Get down!” he shouted as he jumped to the side and pushed her away. A blast from a powerful weapon knocked him back and to the ground. The mercs scattered and started to return slow but carefully aimed fire. Teresa lifted her carbine and scanned the area ahead. The winding path continued downwards into an area that looked like a giant circular racetrack. It must be the centre of the base as at least a dozen huge blast doors led off into corridors and rooms like the legs of a spider, her attention was caught by robed men carrying rifles. Two of them had spotted her team and were opening fire but the rest were shooting indiscriminately against people in rags and filth.
Teresa aimed carefully and squeezed off two rounds into the closest man’s face. The second was dropped by a fusillade from the mercs. With the immediate danger over the mercs pushed ahead to deal with the other guards as Teresa bent down to help Bishop up. Incredibly he was smiling.
“Don’t worry, the armour did its job for a change!”
Teresa pulled hard and lifted him back to his feet. A fierce gun battle was going on between the guards and the mercenaries but the guards were completely outclassed and in less than a minute the route was clear.
“Where now, Teresa?”
“Good point, what do you think is happening here?”
“If you ask me I’d say this is a prison revolt, look,” he said as he bent down to one of the bodies. The person was wearing ragged overalls and had rough, scarred hands. The woman had been shot three times in the chest and it looked like she had been trying to reach the surface.
“If it’s a revolt then you can guarantee our people will be right in the middle of it. Look, over there!” She pointed towards more guards rushing through a wide doorway firing their weapons.
“Good idea, we can hit them from behind and roll them up till we find whatever the hell is going on here, come on!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Of all the characters in the sad tale of the Proxima Emergency it is that of the decorated Admiral Jarvis that is one of the most interesting. Prior to the troubles she had been due for early retirement for still unexplained reasons. Her quick thinking slowed the assault of the insurgents throughout Proxima and it is considered by many to this day that without her the System would have fallen within a month. It is only the long-term reputation of Spartan himself that finally overshadowed her ascendancy as his rise to pre-eminence became legendary.
The Fall of Admiral Jarvis
Alarms flashed throughout the bridge of the Tamarisk as she withstood barrage after barrage of weapon fire. In less than a minute of the battle starting she had sustained heavy damage and breaches in multiple quarters. One gun was knocked out and a fire was burning furiously in the spine of the vessel.
“Concentrate cannon fire on the closest cutter. Full burst then rotate ninety degrees and do the same to the next!” ordered the Commander as he altered their course to take them in closer to the group of vessels.
A violent crash smashed the Commander hard against the display and drew blood from his forehead. He wiped it aside and checked the screen.
“Bastards, they just hit our main engines with rockets. How many are left?” he asked, slightly confused from the strike.
“The first cutter is already a hulk, the second is burning from the inside out. Four remaining and they are closing in around us, Sir.”
“I see them, hold on!”
He hit the evasive manoeuvres button that triggered the dorsal thrusters to pump a massive discharge of gas into space and forcing the vessel downwards. As they moved two cutters poured their volleys of railgun ammunition into each other. Kowalski redirected the automated turrets to continue their gunfire against the two disengaged ships, scoring good hits on both.
“Excellent work,” smiled the Commander just as another hit struck the bow of their ship. Two of the displays blacked out followed by scores of red lights flashing across the consoles.
“Crap, we’re got a problem!” shouted Kowalski.
Anderson tried to lean forward to examine the external camera feeds but strong g forces were forcing him into his seat.
Kowalski managed to get a screen up and started to trigger emergency control programs. “We’ve been hit in two of the stern propellant tanks, the escaping gas is putting us into a spin.”
Another series of flashes sent sparks across the computers before the entire system went dead. A crunch like that of metal clamping against metal shook the ship and ever so slowly their spin slowed down.
Commander Anderson looked at the damage inside the vessel, just the red glow of the emergency lights remained. He could see the bloodied face of Kowalski and the significant damage inside.
“What’s happening?”
“They’re boarding us, Sir, they must be.”
“No, they are not taking the Tamarisk! Break out the weapons, I’ll start the auto destruct sequence.”
Kowalski turned to him for a moment as the realisation that this could be the end of their mission occurred to him. The Commander gave him little chance to dwell on his thoughts.
“Kowalski, get going, now!” he growled.
* * *
Spartan and Tigris stood in the middle of the abandoned computer centre and looked about at the masses of equipment. The air-conditioned room was the coolest part of the compound and certainly the best maintained. In the centre of it stood three men, all dressed in suits and all visibly terrified at the sight of the two armed men.
“Who’s in charge here?” demanded Spartan.
None of the men spoke but one looked over to a short, balding man. He was probably just looking for advice but it told Spartan all he needed. Marching over he placed his pistol to the man’s forehead.
“Transfer full control of all the security points, cameras and doors to me!”
The man started to mutter, pleading innocence.
“Do it now, or this one eats a bullet,” said Tigris as he dragged
one of the men to the wall and push him face first against it.
“Well?” asked Spartan.
The man hesitated for just a few seconds. “Okay, okay, come with me.”
The man, obviously terrified, led Spartan to one of the computers and sat down. With a flurry of hand movements he started to move control of all the systems to the computer centre. On the screens nearby Spartan could make out the running battles that were now raging throughout the compound. The sector he had been secured inside was definitely the focal point of the conflict and hundreds appeared to be engaged in a brutal and bloody battle.
“I want full control of the scrubbers, climate control and air vents.”
“What?” the man asked.
A bang shook the room and the man Tigris had been threatening slumped to the floor, a dark red pattern of blood and gore running down the wall. Spartan shook his head, the more time he spent with Tigris the more he doubted the man’s sanity.
“Okay, I’m doing it! It will take a few minutes for access to the circulation and airlock system to transfer!”
“Where are the controls for the shipyards, the factories, the machines?” demanded Spartan before the man could turn away.
“Uh, we just manage the computers. The overall control comes from the Core.”
“What do you mean, the Core?” shouted Tigris from where he stood.
“The Governor, us, the guards, we’re all just custodians for the system. The factories are maintained by us but the orders come directly from the Core through the communication system.”
“Where is it?”
The man shrugged, “Really, I have no idea, we aren’t given that kind of information.”
Spartan tilted his gun slightly and gave the man a look that told him either he told the truth or he would be joining his comrade.
“I promise you, I do not know!” he cried.
Spartan relented and lowered the pistol to leave the man to carry on with his work. He worked fast and it didn’t take long before Spartan had full control of all the systems for the compound. He checked the screen to get an idea how the revolt was going, it wasn’t easy but from what he could see it looked like a stalemate. For now that was okay but he knew that the ships in orbit would soon start dropping in reinforcements, then it would all be over.
“You, over here!” Spartan shouted as he beckoned for the other man to come forward. “You will patch all of the video feeds, including the harvesting rooms and these prison areas. Link them together into an unencrypted packet and start transmitting the data on all channels.”
The man looked to his supervisor who nodded furiously.
“Good, now, I have another job for you. Find me that bastard the Governor, we have things to discuss,” he said angrily.
“I thought we were going to hold them to ransom?” asked Tigris.
“We will but it’s going to take a few minutes to get full control. Plus, we need to find that bastard first before we can negotiate.”
“It’s working,” said the one of the men as he pointed to the screens.
“What exactly?” asked Spartan.
“The transmission, I’m sending the signal you wanted, it is being sent out to the Trading Station, outposts and any ships within range.”
“Good, attach a message explaining what this place does. Don’t try and be smart-ass, we have military units on the way and those who help us now might avoid consequences later on. Understood?” he said winking at Tigris.
“Okay, I know about the Biomechs and the ships, we were forced to work here like all the other prisoners,” he said, though Spartan looked less than convinced.
“What are you waiting for?” was his only reply.
“Hey, Spartan, have you seen what’s going on at Screen 13?” asked Tigris.
Spartan shook his head and stepped back to take a look at the display. It was the large corridor that ran from the security room and towards the centre of the base. About a hundred prisoners along with the bulk of what must be Gun were hunkered down behind an improvised barricade of containers, broken machinery and bodies. Attacking them were double their number of guards and Zealots along with a sprinkling of Biomechs. The defenders appeared to have the better position though and were managing to hold them back. Spartan looked closely, he was sure he could see the figure of General Rivers next to the creature waving something and shouting.
“The crazy old man, he’s always in the middle of trouble,” said Spartan to himself. “Look, is that who I think it is?”
Tigris looked at the enemy reinforcements that surged through the corridor to assault the barricade. In the middle was the unmistakable shape of the Governor.
“There he is!” said Tigris with venom. “I want him!”
“Easy now, there’s time, first we’ve got to get control of the facility, then we can finish him off.”
“Fine, you stay, I’m out of here!” shouted Tigris and then he was gone.
Spartan looked about the room and then to the two men at the computers.
“How long till I get control?”
The one man turned back to Spartan, “It’s yours, I can put the control to a portable device if you want?” The man was obviously trying to appease him.
“You can transfer control to a datapad?”
“Sure, give me a few seconds.”
It took just a few taps before he turned back and handed him a ruggedised datapad that was locked into the system. Spartan looked at the screen and noted the complete structure of the base, it looked even bigger than he expected.
“Just tap the area or system and you can issue commands directly to the computer centre.”
“Good, come on, upstairs!” he said as moved back to the broken glass and in the direction Tigris had taken.
As the three left the room the largest screen showed the raging battle around the barricade. A small monitor showed the video feed back towards the centre of the compound where six armoured warriors were engaged with the Zealots in a bitter firefight. Spartan spotted the action from the corner of his eye and quickly pulled himself back. As he did so the two men ran for it, he lifted his pistol and pointed it at the back of the closest. He started to pull the trigger but stopped, he wouldn’t kill them, not yet anyway. Looking back at the screen he tried to work out who the six were. Tapping the display the camera zoomed in to show the six in body armour and military grade firearms. At the front were a man and woman, both without helmets and firing carbines. He almost fell over when he spotted the woman’s face.
“Teresa!” he shouted.
Without pausing he turned and ran for the stairs.
* * *
Teresa ducked as a Zealot swung what could only be described as a sharpened halberd at her head. Her speed saved her but not the mercenary who took the full impact in his shoulder. Even his toughened synthetic body armour could not stop the razor sharp crystal edged blade from cutting deeply into his flesh. As he dropped in agony he lifted his carbine and tore the man in half with a deadly burst of gunfire.
“Bishop, what’s the plan!” she shouted, firing a short burst at another Zealot as he emerged from cover.
They had reached the mouth of the corridor and run directly into a group of reinforcements that appeared to be involved in a major battle further inside the compound. As the last Zealot was cut down her team moved to the walls and looked inside the corridor at the unfolding battle. Two of the mercs dragged the wounded man to cover before joining them.
“I don’t know, we can join this fight but it could be nothing to do with our mission, what if this is just some kind of labour dispute?” he asked before lifting his carbine and pointing it behind Teresa.
“Hey, who are you?” he shouted as a man, half dressed in the garb of one of the guards approached with raised hands.
“The name’s Tigris, I was going to ask you the same. I’m helping with the escape, you here to help?”
“We’re looking for a Confed General and a group of prisoners.”
“A General, well, I’ve been working with a guy called Spartan, I know he’s with a group of Confed guys, most of them are back there in the fight.”
Bishop turned to Teresa who pulled back the bolt on her carbine and rushed after the enemy reinforcements.
“Come on!” shouted Bishop before Tigris was able to explain further.
The surviving mercenaries followed, each of them continuing their carefully aimed shooting and started to pick off the guards and Zealots from behind. In less than a minute the enemy’s numbers had been halved before they even realised there was somebody behind them. In the middle a small group of Biomechs looked like they had gone on the rampage, there were three and all of them had turned on the Zealots, one with a Gatling gun tore a dozen men to shreds. In the middle a man in a suit stood calmly and shouted for them to stop. A few guns stopped but one of the Biomechs continued to fight before being dragged to the ground by half a dozen Zealots. They were about to finish the creature off when the man called out.
“Stop this madness, immediately!”
The gunshots had all but stopped and the remaining thirty of the enemy moved back slightly, taking up positions in cover as the leader followed them. The Biomechs stayed where they stood, neither following the enemy nor joining the defenders on the barricades.
“I am the Governor and you will lay down your weapons immediately. This act of sedition is punishable by exposure to the surface!” he roared.
One of the defenders fired a shot that just missed the man and was immediately hit in the forehead by a return shot from one of the guards.
Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy Page 58
