“They had better not renege on this or Gun and his mob will make us regret it,” he said to himself, as he proceeded down the stairs.
* * *
The room was secure and the small group of heavily armoured Vanguards were already pushing further away to increase the perimeter. One fire team, including Spartan and Marcus, stayed in the room to check on the captured equipment and computer hardware. With his visor and suit partially open, Spartan was able to reach out and operate the computer system that was still connected to the data link. On one screen a stream of data scrolled by continually, as well as a number of images and machine reports from industrial equipment, presumably buried deep inside the site. He looked over his shoulder to Marcus, who was staring intently at the displays.
“Have you seen this kind of system before?”
Marcus shook his head, “Nope, this isn’t like anything we’ve seen in our training. If you ask me, this looks like industrial equipment, look!”
Marcus leaned forward and tapped his armoured fist gently on the MRM company logo. Spartan looked at it, its significance not registering at first.
“Ah, MRM. They ran the mining operation, right?”
Marcus nodded in agreement and moved back to the computer. He continued talking. “When they sent in the marines the first time, a lot of the security system was shutdown so that we couldn’t gain access to their systems. I’m surprised there are any still connected to the outside world.”
The two looked back at the main display unit. It was almost a metre wide and contained several separate windows that were running security and maintenance processes.
“This one?” asked Marcus, as he pointed at a satellite dish icon.
Spartan shrugged. With a quick tap, the icon expanded into a full size window showing multiple data streams. Pages of code including locations, machine identity data and control codes, whizzed by. One window, showing over a dozen Biomechs stood waiting in a room, flashed up and then disappeared.
“What the hell?” cried Marcus. He tried to get the video back.
“Tell me you’re getting this?” asked Spartan excitedly.
“Bet your ass I am.”
Marcus placed his datapad on the desk and watched as the information mirrored itself onto his unit. Looking back at the screen, a number of words kept popping up.
“Did you see that?”
“The dates?”
“No, the bit about Operation Blindfire?” added Marcus.
Spartan shook his head.
“It’s mentioned here a few times. Something about Euryale and Operation Blindfire. Is that one of our codewords, or is it something to do with the Zealots?”
Spartan was about to reply, when Marcus moved back slightly in confusion.
“Hey, that’s weird.”
“What?”
“Well, this site looks like it’s receiving a lot of high level traffic for the enemy, and one name keeps popping up. I’ve seen at least ten secure data packets to Typhon. They’re encrypted with a polymorphic cipher that will be a bitch to crack. I can’t do it myself. We’ll need some decent gear and guys that know how to use it.”
“So, Marcus? We know Typhon is behind this. Is it much of a surprise to find coded data being sent to him? I don’t see what tactical advantage that will give us, other than its propaganda value.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t a message, this is a series of orders to a group of people, and Typhon is one of those receiving it. If you ask me, it looks like Typhon himself is being sent order just like the others. One is to Typhon, the others all go to seceded colonies, all apart from one,” Marcus said as he pointed at a single message on the right side of the screen.
“What does it say?”
Marcus tried to open the file, but was stopped by a number of security warnings.
“No way, the tech teams will have to work on this. Do you recognise the Ident code?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it before, it’s the ship code for CCS Wasp. They must have somebody on the inside.”
The door to the room opened, as a matter of training and reactions, both men raised their armoured arms towards it. The group of mask-wearing technicians lifted their hands in horror. Spartan smiled to himself, before lowering his guns.
“My apologies. Knock next time!”
The most confident of the group stepped forward.
“Security Chief O’Connor, I’m here to start data capture,” he said, looking past Spartan and to the computers.
“Shit, you’ve got a live stream!” he said excitedly, pushing past the armoured torso of the two Vanguards to connect up his own computer equipment.
“Come on, let’s check the rest of this place,” said Spartan.
He left from the door at the far end of the room that led into the rest of the underground facility. Spartan went along the narrow corridor until he reached an opening that was guarded by three Vanguard Marines. The space opened up into a thick, strong archway that pushed on into a great hall. Taking a few steps forward, the twin beams from his armour could barely penetrate the dusty environment. A dozen flares burned along the sides, each provided a smouldering glow that lit only the lower parts of the corridor.
“Any idea where the signals were coming from? I mean the ones with orders and machine codes? Was there more than one source?”
“I didn’t have time to check, but I do have the co-ordinates on my datapad.”
“Good,” said Spartan with a smile, “can you pass the data over to my display?”
They kept moving as Marcus moved the data remotely to the other Vanguard suit, directly onto its computer system.
Inside the suit, Spartan added the data to his navigation unit, so that it could calculate positions for the data source. It took just a few seconds before a three dimensional map of the sector showed the source.
“That’s weird, according to the computer, the signal came from nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” Marcus asked.
“Just an empty piece of space about forty to fifty AU away. Nothing charted and it’s way too far to be a planet or moon.”
“Maybe it’s a ship. They could have planted a command vessel a long way out of the System, to keep it out of sight of Confed forces.”
“It’s possible, they are certainly days, probably weeks away from the reach of most ships. I’ll pass this on to Command when we get back.”
“What about Hobbs? She won’t like it if you go over her head.”
“Hobbs, who cares about her? She can play hero all she likes, this is important.”
They reached the end of the corridor and stopped, looking out into the newly secured location. It was dark, like most of the base, and just a single flare could be seen burning up ahead.
He tapped his intercom. “Sergeant Morato, any news on the power?”
“Almost ready, Sir, we’re connecting the power system through our own extension coils back to the surface. Any moment...now!”
Spartan looked left then right, from his vantage point he couldn’t see anything of note. His lamps simply faded in the vastness of the open space. On his internal monitors he could follow the rest of the marines moving about. Then a yellow flicker came from the corner and one by one a series of strip lights flickered, then turned to continuous amplification. Not all the lights worked, but enough powered up to show the shape of the area, as well as the myriad of tunnels leading from it. Sergeant Lovett stepped next to him, examining the open space in awe.
“Wow, this must have taken some work to carve out!”
“You’d be surprised what a few thousand slaves and hand tools can do, when properly motivated,” replied Spartan grimly.
The Sergeant turned back as he spotted movement in the shadows. A group of PDS armoured marines emerged from the darkness. The four-man team inched ahead nervously, closely followed by the upright and stern shape of Captain Hobbs.
“Uh, LT, behind you!” said the Sergeant, as discreetly as he could manage.
Spar
tan rotated his upper body slightly, keeping his feet planted. The Captain approached and stood before him, the four marines spread out to form a loose screen around them.
“Lieutenant, I see you’ve secured the area. Have you located useful intel yet?”
Spartan looked back into the cavernous open space behind her, the dust was already starting to settle. A dozen Vanguard Marines were moving about as they checked objects, abandoned machines and cabling.
“Not yet, well, not in this part of the base. The techs are busy getting all they can from the captured data stream. Have you heard anything about Operation Blindfire?”
“Blindfire? No, why?” she asked.
“It was one of the pieces of data I saw on the system before the techs arrived.”
Captain Hobbs thrust her hand forward accusingly. “You messed with the system?”
“No, I viewed some of the information being streamed. Contrary to your reports, I do have a basic background in computer systems and data handling,” said an irritable Spartan.
“Computer systems? Are you kidding me? This is highly important classified intel that could change the course of the war. I suggest you, and your team of roughriders, leave this place to my people. You can continue your sweep of the base, report back your findings in a timely manner!”
“Yes, Sir,” Spartan said with a half-hearted salute. It didn’t matter. The officer had already moved away to join her tech team and marines back in the control room.
Spartan moved away, a small group of his Vanguards joined him. They walked slowly, each of them checking the area for any signs that could be of use. He could see the disposition of his platoon on his tactical display and everyone was accounted for.
“Sergeant Morato, any news from the drones?” he asked.
“No. I lost one in the small shaft eighty metres to the west. There’s a breach in the wall and running water, the soil must have worn away and trapped the unit. I have another following one of the most recent tunnels to the north. Sergeant Lovett and his squad are already down there investigating.”
“Good work, Sergeant, how is it looking up there?”
“All good, Sir. My unit has double-checked the tunnels and set up a perimeter with mines and sentry monitors. Nothing is getting near us, without us hearing or seeing it first.”
“Watch yourselves, you know what the Biomechs are like. I don’t want to come back to find you buried under a dozen of them!”
“Understood, Sir,” she replied, trying to hide her laughter.
Spartan continued moving ahead, but altered his direction slightly to follow Sergeant Lovett and 2nd Squad. He could just make out the lights on their armour as he moved closer to them. From behind, the marines looked almost like machines. The armour was less refined on the back and parts of the power plant and ammunition stores were visible. The most vulnerable part of the armour was the external power plant unit and its exposed pipes and coolant unit. Spartan had pointed this out as a potential risk, during the latest round of armour modifications, but there wasn’t time to produce the perfect equipment. It was simply a case, of making the armour as good as it could be, with the time and resources they had available. Spartan has submitted his suggestions for a custom built model, buts it development and construction would have to wait until after the crisis was over.
He moved closer until to the rear of the group. As he reached within ten metres, two of them turned. For a brief moment, the bright light from their lamps partially blinded him. The internal warnings fired up as the built-in defence package detected armed weapons in his vicinity. For a second, he nearly grabbed for his own weapon controls but he knew what was happening, even if the others didn’t.
“Lower your weapons, it’s me!” he snarled.
The lamps dropped down on their motorised pintle mounts and his eyesight quickly started to adjust.
“Sorry, Sir, didn’t expect to see you,” said an apologetic Private Jones.
Spartan shook his head as he regained his bearings. Working underground certainly had its problems. Luckily the suits built-in blackout visor had eliminated the worst of the effect, his eyesight was already returning to normal.
“Spartan, I can’t reach Sergeant Lovett, they need to stop, now!” said a crackling message from Teresa.
Spartan didn’t even hesitate, he pushed forward to where he could see Sergeant Lovett and grabbed him.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Sergeant Morato? Sergeant...respond?”
The intercom unit crackled and hissed, but in this position the audio was indecipherable. He tried again but to no avail. Giving a simple hand gesture, the squad and Spartan, plus the small group that had followed him, exited the tunnel and moved back to the periphery of the open hall. No sooner had they exited the tunnel, the audio returned.
“What the hell?” said Sergeant Lovett, his voice loud and overbearing inside the suits.
“Quiet. This is Lieutenant Spartan, can anybody hear me?”
“Spartan...is that you? I thought we’d lost you down there.”
“Yeah, I’ve got you, Morato. We lost contact in the tunnel, what’s going on with the comms?”
“There’s something down there, near the shaft. The drone got close, but all I managed to get was a sealed door and then lots of noises. The drone lost contact before I could withdraw it safely. Now I’m not even receiving the status signal.”
Spartan looked over to Marcus, expecting a suggestion. He nodded before speaking.
“I’ve heard about this kind of gear before. They use them to secure conference rooms and facilities. It must be a high power form of damping generator or unit. They must be protecting something in there.”
Spartan looked at his men, then back into the tunnel.
“Lovett, Keller, get your men ready. We will have to rely on hand signals and good old-fashioned violence. We’ll take both squads in. Something tells me we are going to need the numbers. You all ready?”
The Vanguards Marines nodded, each waiting for the order to commence the operation.
“Sergeant Morato, we are going in. I will leave two marines here for you to stay in contact with. Let Hobbs know what’s happening. If we don’t return in ten minutes you know what to do.”
“Evacuate the site?” she said with a subtle hint of sarcasm.
“No, you mount up and get the rest of the marines down here to save our asses!” he replied seriously.
“Understood, Sir! Good hunting!”
Spartan looked to the rest of the Vanguards, each was covered in the grime, oil and filth from working underground. It was hard to tell exactly who was who. He could normally reply upon the tactical network fitted to each suit, but with the dampening field out there, they would just be a group of men in armour. Even so, they were all fully operational, well armed and raring to go. With his single hand gesture they split up into two files, Spartan and Marcus at the front, the rest following. One more signal and they moved off. Each was carefully checking for signs of danger.
The two full squads gave Spartan ample numbers for almost any scenario, but the lack of working communication gear or data networking, meant he had to reply on his own eyes and sensors as he moved forward. After fifty metres, the tunnel became wider until they were walking on recently placed concrete.
“Strange,” he muttered quietly and stepped further ahead. The walls were reinforced and ribbed, where metal reinforcement beams must have been crossed to secure the tunnel. On the thermal imaging unit, a number of slightly different colours showed about twenty metres further on. They were much too small to be people. Spartan lifted his hand for them to stop, lowering his weapon arms while he double-checked.
The thermal imager showed almost no discernable details and the dust in the area making the lamps almost useless. The more power he redirected, the brighter the cloud of dirt. He changed the settings until one, the electronic warfare sensor, flagged something ahead as a possible power source.
“Must be the dam
pening field,” he whispered quietly and then stepped forward. Right behind him the rest of the Vanguard Marines followed, each scanning left to right. The two at the rear moved backwards, checking for potential enemies.
Inside the confines of the armoured suit, Spartan was starting to feel a little stiff. Stretching his left arm, he twisted his neck slightly. As he moved, he spotted something, a flick of light. Then his right arm knocked back as if he had punched a metal barrier.
“Shit!”
More metal projectiles hurled through the tunnel, each one tearing chunks from the walls or clanging against the thick, hardened armour of the Vanguards. More rounds smashed into Spartan’s chest, one even cracked the glass visor. He protected his face with his left arm and looked about at his men. One Vanguard was down on his knee, sparks and flames running down the torso. Spartan turned back, spotting the thermal signature of heavy weapons fire. It looked like a single target with multiple barrels, probably a sentry turret. Three more struck his shoulder, one tearing off a piece of armour plating and sending the internal alarms off into a panic.
“Screw this!” he muttered and pointed both arms forward. He pushed his torso forward, anticipating the recoil and then opened fire. The noise, shock and recoil from the weapons were immense. The flash obscured his vision completely, but his sensors still showed the heat and electronic signature. Three more Vanguards joined in, each of them sending hundreds of large calibre explosive rounds into the enemy.
The return fire stopped and Spartan immediately lurched forward, covering the short distance to the device. As he approached, it was clear the unit was a remotely operated weapon. A number of thick cables ran along the floor and through a metal grating on the floor. The tunnel continued on for just a few more metres, before it reached a dead end. Spartan looked back, the lights from the other marines showed they were approaching.
Battle for Proxima Page 8
