“Reports from the ships that escaped the attack, say there is a fleet of approximately thirty ships out there and they include a number of heavy cruisers. This fleet might be heading our way or on the way to hit your forces, there is no way of knowing. I will send more data as it arrives. We already have a dozens escorts out scouting the storms and around the colony to keep an eye out for them.”
An image popped up to the side of the video feed with three rough schematics and several shots from the gun cameras. It showed a cruiser, much like the Leviathan though perhaps a little smaller. Commander Anderson continued.
“If these forces do enter your location, we could really do with capturing one of their ships. I appreciate that probably won’t be easy, but Kowalski informs me this level of technology is easily thirty years ahead of where we are. It could be critical to the war effort,” he said with a wry smile.
Admiral Jarvis smiled inwardly at the comment. The Commander knew full well how hard it was to get close enough to even consider a boarding action, let alone carrying one out to its successful conclusion. It was normal for a ship that was about to be boarded to accelerate away or even to self-destruct. Anderson turned to look at something and then back at the camera.
“I have to help prepare the defences. If they do arrive, we have enough ships, defences and minefields to drag it out for weeks, maybe months. Good luck, Admiral, I’ll be in touch. Anderson out.”
The image turned black and Admiral Jarvis sat, stunned for a moment. She wasn’t sure which part had hit her hardest. The fact her reinforcements were not coming or that there was a force of thirty or more ships lurking somewhere. A fleet of that size could cause her serious problems on her new campaign. She considered responding but knew in her heart that a few minutes either way would make little difference to what was about to happen. Right now she had Euryale, the Leviathan and a rogue War Barge to deal with.
She looked around at the CiC, like her the rest of the crew were still strapped into their seats. The vessel had been accelerating since the pursuit of the Leviathan had begun. It was slow, but they were finally starting to gain on the enemy ship. Lieutenant Nilsson calling over to the Captain caught her attention.
“Video signal from the Leviathan,” she said.
“Put it on the main screen,” replied Captain Tobler.
The face of an old looking man in a dark gown appeared on the display. A small number of men in the robes of the Zealots moved around him. Something the crew of the Crusader hadn’t seen for some months.
“Typhon!” hissed Admiral Jarvis from the back of the CiC.
“Euryale is sovereign territory, as is all of Proxima Centauri. You tried to sabotage our efforts on Prime and failed, then Kerberos. Your regime is a catalogue of brutality and failure. The remnants of your dictatorship have no influence here. The days of the Confederacy are over. Your pitiful forces will be ground to dust if you stay here. Order your forces to leave the colony or we will be forced to unleash fire upon the surface to cleanse it of your unholy taint.”
“He’s bluffing, jam him!” snarled the Admiral, her disdain for the leader of the enemy forces being obvious.
“Sir, he’s not heading for the transports. He’s moving directly above the city.”
A hush spread through the CiC as the gravity of what was about to happen became evident. The loss of ships was insignificant to the destruction of a colony and its civilian population.
“What? Can his weapons penetrate the atmosphere?” Captain Tobler asked desperately.
“I don’t know. We have to stop her and fast! I will not lose another colony!”
Admiral Jarvis brought up her tactical display and selected an open channel to all Confed vessels in the Fleet. Though the Captain was in command of the battlecruiser, the Admiral commanded the entire Fleet and the operation in Euryale.
“All ships within range of the Leviathan. She is about to release a weapon on the colony. Use any and all means to stop her. There are hundreds of thousands of lives depending on us!”
“Sir, the Vengeance, her engines have cut. It looks like she is losing power. She is still moving towards the planet.”
“Looks like the Jötnar have a use after all,” she said quietly, smiling to herself.
“Fifty kilometres from the Leviathan, firing reverse thrusters. We are in range, Captain,” said the XO.
“You don’t need my orders, you know what to do,” he replied.
The XO picked up the intercom microphone, before he could speak the tactical officer interrupted him.
“Sir, the Cruz and Santa Maria are putting up heavy defensive fire, their railguns are hitting the Leviathan hard.”
The XO looked at him and shook his head.
“It’s not enough. We’ve raked her twice at close range. She’s got thick skin, this bastard!”
He grabbed the intercom. “This is the XO. Commence firing, don’t stop till she burns!”
The continuous rumble and reverberation of the gun batteries firing resumed. It could be felt through all major bulkheads in the ship. They were at optimum firing distance, but he knew a few good hits wouldn’t finish the fight. Based on how long the battle against the Battleship CCS Victorious had taken, it could be an hour before they were able to cripple the vessel completely.
“Direct hit!” called out the tactical officer. “Port engine damaged, continuing fire.”
Captain Tobler nodded in satisfaction and watched as parts of the Leviathan tore off from the massive vessel. More flashes indicated impacts from the railguns as they smashed the stern, causing substantial damage. Two squadrons of Lightning fighters turned away after releasing their Skua missiles, but each one was easily shot down buy the myriad of turrets along the ship’s hull.
“She’s firing up her starboard thrusters...wait, she’s coming around.”
The XO grabbed the intercom. “All stations, brace for impact!” he shouted.
“She’s charging up her primary weapons. Wait, I’m picking up more ships.”
“What?” demanded Admiral Jarvis.
On the main screen the image of the turning heavy cruiser slid to the side to make space for a mass of dots that quickly grew in size.
“They’ll be here in three minutes, their transmissions and IFF systems are blocked.”
“Blocked by their own ships or being jammed by these bastards?” said the XO bitterly.
“Use everything we have, crash the fighters into her weapons if we have to, she must be stopped!” cried out the Admiral.
* * *
Spartan, Teresa and Marcus fanned out as they moved between two low buildings. Unlike the rest of the city, this section seemed to have avoided the explosions and gunfire that had gutted most of the rest of the surface. Behind them moved the engineers, themselves being carefully watched by three more Vanguards. In the distance behind them, the arc of tracers from the ground gave away the closing enemy troops as they moved in on the city. It wouldn’t be long before they were at the walls.
“How much further?” asked Marcus.
“Not long, past the next building, through the yard and over the wall. The pathfinders are already in position,” replied Spartan.
They kept on, the heavy thud of the armoured legs mixing in with the pneumatic whine of pistons. They covered the ground fast and quickly moved into the yard. One six-wheeled truck lay partially assembled to one side. Spartan glanced to his right when he spotted to bipedal machines. For a second he was about to fire, when he realised they were just forklifts, nothing he needed to concern himself with.
“Spartan, look!” called Teresa.
Spartan looked over, further to his right. About a hundred metres out to the side a dozen men in carapace armour were jogging past the buildings. The path the men were taking ran exactly parallel with the Vanguards.
“That can’t be a coincidence, they must be trying to stop us reaching the landing zone. Teresa, you escort them. Marcus come with me!” he growled.
The two Vanguards slightly altered their course and crossed the space between the two groups and moved on the enemy. On his rear video feed, Spartan watched Teresa and the other marines stomp away and towards the objective. He kept moving as fast as the massive armoured legs would let him.
“Spartan, watch...” shouted Marcus, before a rocket slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground. Spartan threw himself to the side and into the wall of a small structure. The mass and weight of his suit smashed through the outer wall, leaving broken stone and masonry all around him. Cannon rounds clattered about him and he was forced to roll to the side to avoid being hit.
“Marcus, are you alright?” he shouted, there was no response.
The enemy soldiers stopped their chase and turned to put down fire on the sheltering Spartan. He grabbed Marcus by the arm and shook him, noticing slight movement inside the man’s visor. He must be unconscious, Spartan thought. The armour penetration sensor flashed as two rounds splinted a servo mount on his left leg. He pulled himself up and pushed out from around the cover. The men were stood just a dozen metres away, most with their weapons pointed directly at him. Without thinking, he drove himself forward and dropped his hands down low. The ammunition counters on the guns were low and in less than a second’s worth of shooting he was left with just one gun with a quarter-full ammo box. The large calibre shells shredded the closest three and then he was amongst them.
“Bastards!” he roared, swinging his metal arms as hard as he could to strike them. The impact barely registered as he slammed his blade hard into the first. The hardened metal edge buried itself deeply into his thigh and then slammed into the next man. Two turned to run, the other five stood their ground and fired their automatic weapons at point blank range. Lights flashed throughout the suit as the weapons penetrated some of the weaker parts of the armour, damaging the delicate pipes and wiring running through the thinner section to the rear of the suit.
“Lieutenant, get down!” shouted somebody on his intercom. He didn’t recognise the voice for a moment, so caught up as he was in the bloodlust of close quarter combat. Nonetheless he dropped to the ground, just in time to see streaks of tracer fire from a team of Army soldiers. One armed with a shoulder-mounted thermal cannon sent a blast of superheated energy that vaporised two of the enemy. The rest were cut down in carefully aimed rapid fire.
He turned in the direction of his rescuers to see men in thick carapace armour. Though usually painted battleship grey, these soldiers were a type of mottled camouflage that fitted in beautifully with the urban structures around them. One of them moved closer and saluted.
“Sergeant Tony Jackson, Pathfinder Company.”
Spartan dragged himself up, immediately noticing the reduced power and movement in his arm. A quick glance showed him the suit had sustained substantial damage, yet after all of this it was still functioning.
“Lieutenant Spartan, Vanguard Company. Good to see you, Sergeant. Your timing is perfect.”
“Glad to see you, too, Sir. Your engineers are already being put to work. I can’t believe you took this place with just one company, Sir.”
“One company? No, two platoons is all we have right now.”
“We need some of that armour!” he said with a sly grin.
“Give me a hand,” asked Spartan. They helped lift the unconscious Marcus between them.
“The birds are on their way. Apparently, the first to land is a company of marines under the command of a Captain Hobbs. She says she wants to see you when she gets here.”
“Hobbs?” asked Spartan, with an obvious hint of bitterness in his voice. “You could say that, she’s itching for some combat and is pissed off by anybody that gets there first!”
“Yeah, we know the type. Watch your back, Sir.”
“Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it.”
* * *
Three ships were circling the Leviathan but after a full twenty minutes of battle it was still undecided. The Santa Cruz had sustained heavy damage to her bow and was turning to move from battle. The Santa Maria hadn’t fared much better, with one of her rotating sections out of action and a series of fires burning on her starboard hull. The Crusader showed no obvious signs of damage but inside was another story. Hundreds of dead and wounded had already been evacuated from the now totally crippled bow section. A quarter of the gun decks were offline due to damage in the primary power plant. In the CiC, gravity had resumed as the rotating sections reverted to their normal state of three rotations per minute.
“Her weapons are powering up again!” called the tactical officer.
“Captain, we can’t take another hit from those guns, we have to withdraw!” replied the desperate XO.
Captain Tobler staggered to the tactical display and stood next to Admiral Jarvis. She held a bandage to her forehead, trying to stem the flow of blood dripping from a light gash. He turned back to the XO.
“No, the only reason Typhon hasn’t flattened the colony is because we’re keeping her busy. Get us closer!”
Admiral Jarvis agreed, watching in satisfaction on the main screen, as scores of hits riddled the vessel. The Leviathan was certainly a ship worthy of its name. Captain Tobler traced the movement of the new ships on the display with his right hand.
“Here they come,” he said with a tone of dread and anger. The Crusader had fought hard and long but in the end they needed more time. The Leviathan was just too tough a ship to destroy in a hurry.
“Put them on the main screen,” he ordered.
The external cameras took several seconds to adjust, not helped by the barrage of cannon fire that raked Crusader’s hull. All the crew in the CiC watched anxiously as the blurred shapes slowed and then came into view. The first was an Army transport, closely followed by a group of two damaged light cruisers.
“Can it be?” said Admiral Jarvis, with a tinge of doubt in her voice.
Four destroyers moved in, quickly followed by another Army transport and a frigate. The smaller vessels rushed directly towards the Leviathan and unleashed a great mass of torpedoes. A great surge peaked on the scanners and almost as quickly as she had arrived, the mighty enemy flagship accelerated away from the battle. A final vessel, much smaller than the rest, appeared.
“Signal coming through, it’s the Tamarisk, Sir.”
The video feed popped up to reveal the cramped bridge of the small ship with Captain Haris and Sergeant Bishop in centre view.
“Captain Haris here. Apologies for the delay, we had a slight altercation with enemy forces attacking the Yorkdale. I assume she was able to escape?”
“Affirmative, Captain, good to see you here. We understand a rogue fleet hit the reinforcements as they left the storms.”
“Makes sense. When we arrived, there were already a number of damaged ships in the area. I assumed the majority had returned to Prometheus. Glad to see some of them got through to you,” he turned to Bishop, who was trying to get his attention.
“Oh, yes. Is Admiral Jarvis there?”
“I’m here, Captain, what is it?”
“The Sergeant here has an important message for you. Permission to send a party over?”
Captain Tobler looked to the Admiral. “Send him over.”
“Understood, he will be with you shortly.”
The image slid to the side to return to the hulk of the War Barge and the increasing number of Confed ships moving into position around her. At first glance, the ship appeared lifeless, but the Crusader’s sensors were picking up hull vibrations. Every minute or so a short burst of gunfire would erupt from the hull towards the circling ships. It was light and sporadic but it did confirm the enemy still had control of some or all of the ships weapon systems. The main engines appeared heavily damaged but the manoeuvring thrusters were still functional and maintaining the vessel’s course towards the planet.
“What’s going on in there?” asked the Admiral.
“I’ve done a detailed scan of her hull. The best I can tell is
most of the vibrations are coming from explosions and weapons fire on board.”
“There are only two people I know who can cause so much trouble, one of them is on the surface with the Vanguards.”
“Gun?” he asked.
“Of course. Who else would go against direct orders and cause so much noise and violence?”
She moved over to tactical display and gave a cursory look at the ship dispositions. There were now three main groups of ships. The largest group was in orbit around Euryale, this included some of the newly arrived reinforcements. Most of the warships were boarding the crippled enemy vessels following the main battle and the remaining ships were splitting off to deal with stragglers.
“How many ships have left the System?” she asked.
“The Leviathan, one damaged cruiser and four frigates. Everything else is either destroyed, boarded or crippled,” replied the tactical officer. “The Leviathan is still on the same course. If they don’t start their engines soon, they will be caught in the gravity well of Euryale.”
“Other than those on board, what is the downside?” asked the XO.
“At that distance, they will have a clear run on any transports and vessels still in orbit. They could also use their bombardment weapons against the colony. War Barges are the perfect platforms for that kind of work.”
“I want every capital ship able to move to take up positions around the Vengeance. One way or the other, they will not be entering the orbit of Euryale,” ordered the Admiral.
She turned to Lieutenant Nilsson. “Can you reach any of the crew of the Yorkdale? We need to know what is happening down there.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Admiral,” she replied, but at the same time kept pressing a series of button and keys. She was the most competent and experienced communications officer on the ship, possibly the Fleet. She turned quickly.
“I’m getting something faint, it looks like internal suit communications from personal armour. I’ll try and amplify it, give me a moment, I’ll put it on the main speakers.”
Battle for Proxima Page 24
