Captain Erdeniz allowed himself a brief smile.
“Casualties?”
“Light, most of their forces are out on the perimeter. We need to help them and fast.”
“No, the mission is to stop the exodus. We stop the transports, and then we mop up. Understood?”
There was a pause for almost ten seconds. The two-way radio kept transmitting, and the sound of small arms gunfire could just be heard over the speakers. It looked like something had gone wrong, but finally Caladus appeared and spoke.
“Okay, Captain, you’re the boss. Just don’t wait too long. They have numbers on their side, and the Biomechs are heading for the civilian fighters. My people can take care of foot soldiers, especially these militia lackeys. Biomechs though, they are something else.”
Special Agent Johnson checked the computer systems that were still operational. They showed the large number of shuttles and transports waiting to take off. According to the main screen, they were only partially loaded and waiting for fuel. Only one ship, the large transport near the barracks, was fuelled up and ready to launch.
“It says here they are due to launch in six minutes.”
“Fuel is what will keep them here. Take two squads and deal with the transport. Go for the crew or their engines. We don’t want civilian casualties.”
Johnson nodded and looked down to his rifle, checking the ammunition status. He looked back up, as though he had forgotten to say something.
“What about you?”
“Me, I’m going for the fuel!”
He made for the stairs, but not before he put a burst of gunfire into the computer and communications system of the control tower.
“That should make things a little harder for them. Come on!”
They moved back along the route they had arrived and met additional marines in the lobby area. There was no immediate threat in this part of the spaceport, but the battle elsewhere seemed to be getting worse.
Johnson assembled his small group of two squads and waited in the shadows of the tower. Nearby, the remains of the Army and Marine squads surrounded Captain Erdeniz. Each man and woman checked their weapons and loaded in fresh magazines. Erdeniz pointed off to the left where a number of refuelling vehicles were positioned. Two of them were parked near a transport, and a group of men were hastily trying to connect it up.
“We have to move fast. You, take three men and hit the men working on the transport. Give me a signal when you have disconnected the pipes. We’ll secure the rest of the refuelling fleet and destroy it. Make sure you let us know when you are through, got it?”
The young marine nodded, his burnt and slightly damaged helmet seeming useless when compared to the armour used by the Captain and a few of the other marines.
“Go!”
The two groups split off and rushed out into the open. Gunfire still raged across the site, and the Union Biomechs had now joined the fray. The massive hulks of the Biomechs stomped slowly towards the civilian fighters, and each creature carried a multitude of heavy weapons. Captain Erdeniz was tempted to divert to help them, but the sight of the transports, and the knowledge of the hundreds of thousands of civilians about to be taken away, forced him to stay the course.
“Watch out!” screamed an Army sergeant, but he was cut to shreds before he could move to out of the way. From behind of one the trucks emerged a group of three massive Biomechs. Each stood at least three metres tall and was armed with multi-barrelled Gatling guns. The three fired a stream of projectiles at the group and cut down four more before they could take cover. Something struck Erdeniz in the leg, and he flipped over and crashed painfully to the ground. Another marine grabbed him, and dragged the injured officer to safety behind a partially destroyed truck.
“Sir, are you hurt?”
The marine looked down at the damaged armour, and he could see a number of holes and jagged edges where shrapnel had torn through the lower leg. A trickle of dark fluid ran down, and he hoped it was oil and not blood.
“Marine, keep up the attack,” said Captain Erdeniz, his voice now weak.
More rounds slammed around them, followed by the loud thud of the Biomechs moving towards them. The internal communication array in his suit lit up as reports flooded in from his now depleted force.
“Captain, Caladus here. We’ve secured the transport, getting the prisoners off the ship now. We estimate over three hundred so far.”
The deafening roar of two wings of Lightning fighters screaming overhead obliterated his voice. Multiple smoke trails rushed downwards and a great pattern of orange and yellow flickered nearby to the transport. More missiles struck, and one of the closest Biomechs staggered back and fell to the ground.
Captain Erdeniz pulled himself up into a seated position and watched in awe as more fighters raced across the spaceport. Missiles and cannon rounds ripped into the enemy militia and Biomechs. Behind them came dark shapes. He couldn’t quite make them out, but the jets of white-hot flame indicated they were slowing down to land.
“Sir, it’s the marines!” said somebody nearby, but he had already passed out.
* * *
General Rivers held on tightly to the grab handles inside his personal assault transport. The vessel was the most heavily armed and armoured in the marine arsenal, and it allowed him to land directly into combat. A well as his personal bodyguard, he also travelled with a full company of marines plus a number of CES engineers in their heavy armour. He wore his prototype PDS marine armour, equipment he had used for almost a decade. Unlike the other marines, the shoulder and helmet were slight fluted, a design feature that betrayed some of the older ideas used before the PDS armour became standard issue. There were few of these original, hand-built suits left, but they were thicker and contained a wealth of features that had been omitted from the final models. He looked down to his left arm; it contained a small calibre automatic carbine built into the armour. The indicator showed a full sixty-round clip present and loaded. He carried a battered, but well maintained, L48 carbine that hung from a sling mount on his armour.
The pilot of the transport, a young captain in the Marine Corps, called out to him on the communications system.
“Sir, we’re counting a large number of enemy infantry and Biomechs engaged in battle with other forces. It looks like a warzone down there.”
“Yes, that will be the Captain. Spread the word, we are expecting large numbers of friendlies. Put us down right in the middle. I want to see what’s going on here.”
“Sir.”
With a quick flick, he switched to the tactical network used by all the commanders within a certain radius.
“General Rivers here. The battle has begun, and we’re the cavalry. Our primary objective is to seize control of this area and deny it to the enemy. Secondary objectives are to rescue as many civilians as we can and minimise damage to the infrastructure. Bring the Biomechs down, and take as many prisoners as possible. I want this to be a clean operation, and I intend to keep this place. Be under no illusions, Kerberos is Confederate territory, and it will stay that way!”
Behind the vanguard of the landing party, the Union ships fought a desperate action against the newly arrived Confederate forces. It was hardly a battle, for they were outnumbered almost four to one and unprepared for heavy warships. One by one, they surrendered, broke off and tried to outrun their pursuers, but there was little chance of success against the high-speed Confederate frigates.
The ground battle became clear as they moved in closer. Tracer fire arced upwards, but the thick armour and high speed of the marines’ craft kept them out of danger. The door gunners on the shuttles strafed the ground, and another run by the Lightning fighters cleared an area for them to land.
General Rivers’ transport landed first, quickly followed by three assault shuttles of the Confederate Marine Corps. These small craft disgorged fully armoured marines who were rushed into close combat with the enemy infantry and Biomechs. The ramps on the transport lowered
and, for the first time in weeks, General Rivers smelt fresh air and stood on solid ground. He moved forward, closely guarded by an elite squad of heavily armed marines. They each watched for any sign of enemy movement. As the troops spread out, the battle expanded into a fully-fledged action across the entire spaceport. A marine ran over to the General.
“Sir, we’ve found the Captain. He’s been hurt, but he’s conscious.”
“Good, get him on the transport.”
“Sir!”
The Captain called orders to their platoon leaders as more marines rushed out and deployed into aggressive positions. It was all happening fast, and the fire from the Biomechs became even more ferocious. General Rivers took cover behind a fallen Biomech.
“Marine commanders, push the enemy back to the empty service hangar. I’ll bring in the Army and the heavies in from the right. Just keep them busy, and do not let them regroup near the transports.”
On his tactical map inside his suit, he could see the enemy troops deployed into a number of well-entrenched positions at key positions on the site. Friendly forces had been encountered along the perimeter and at three others sites.
“Here they come, Sir!” cried the nearest officer.
He looked up to see the four large Army transports. Each one was capable of depositing hundreds of infantry and several armoured vehicles. At least one contained a detachment of Jötnar, and he had no doubt they would excel in this battle. The first heavy vessel touched down too close to the control tower and started to take fire from the Biomechs.
“Idiots!” he snarled, angry at the dangerous landing that put the Army troops into danger. The transport was safe for now; its thick armour was able to absorb all but the heaviest gunfire. The front ramp opened to reveal a great cloud of white smoke or steam. Out of the mist charged a whole platoon of Jötnar, each blasting away with heavy weapons. A small group of Biomechs tried to slow the attack, but two Jötnar cut them down with what looked like modified two-handed axes. In seconds, the enemy were overrun and falling back.
“Gods…they’re good,” he said quietly to himself, finally fully satisfied at the decision to incorporate the Jötnar into the military structure of the Confederacy.
The follow-up transports landed and even more troops, this time the Confederate Army, joined the battle. It was a pleasant change to see surprise at the numbers of their side. He tapped a button in his suit to contact the communications officer on the transport.
“Patch me through to the fleet. I have an urgent video communication for Admiral Jarvis.”
“Yes, Sir,” came the muffled response through the suit’s speakers.
He looked back at the battle and the retreating Union troops, and nodded with satisfaction.
“About goddamned time!” he smiled.
* * *
The CiC of CCS Crusader was quieter than normal. A skeleton crew of officers manned their station as the mighty warship continued her journey towards the Anomaly. They were travelling at maximum burn, but they would still not arrive before the ships in the first wave, including the Yorkdale. Due to the nature of space travel, they knew exactly when they would arrive and also when the ship would need to perform a full one hundred and eighty degrees turn. Once reversed, the ship would fire up its engines and decelerate the second half of the journey. Even if they wanted to turn back, they would still reach the Anomaly before they could even consider coming home. Admiral Jarvis examined the latest maps and reports coming in from the scores of warships in action through Proxima.
“Admiral, signal from Kerberos. It’s General Rivers,” said the communications officer.
Admiral Jarvis tensed up at the news. She hadn’t been expecting to hear from him so soon. His forces could only have arrived in orbit around the planet a few hours earlier. She could only hope his news wasn’t that they had run into additional enemy forces. She couldn’t turn back now, even if she wanted to.
“Put it on my screen.”
“Sir.”
The image of General Rivers appeared. It was a live feed, but the delay was marked as being several minutes long.”
“Admiral. We have made landfall at Yama City. So far we have located over eight thousand prisoners who were being loaded onto transports. We have also seized a large number of transports in orbit with many more people on board. On the ground, the remaining Union troops have been utterly routed. Captain Erdeniz and his allies have done good work here. The enemy were disorganised, and the spaceport’s defences were offline. I have sent Army patrols into the suburbs to hunt for Union forces in hiding, but so far it looks like we caught most of them trying to leave. I can confirm that Kerberos is under Confederate control.”
Admiral Jarvis looked at the display in disbelief. She had been expecting terrible news. Instead, she received this.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The attack on the captured Marina 4 Science Station is still studied by Confederate Naval and Marine Corps recruits. The station had been used as a slaver outpost for over six months and was heavily defended by drone and automated turrets. A picked company of commandos from the famous 5th Battalion performed a zero-g boarding action. Moving silently, and with no lighting or vessels in sight, they were able to seize control without a single casualty. The defenders lost nineteen fighters and over two hundred were taken prisoner. Their transport, the CCS Santa Cruz, then used the station for target practice over the course of four days.
Great Battles of the Confederate Marine Corps
The fleet had swelled in size from just a handful of vessels to a powerful force of ten ships. CCS Yorkdale was by far the largest in the fleet, but the marine transport CCS Santa Cruz was the flagship of the taskforce. Under the command of her commander, Captain Schaffer, she had access to seven light cruisers, each recently refitted at Prometheus. These vessels were a cheaper, simpler version of the standard cruiser but with slightly reduced armour and weapon systems. With reduced crew requirements and increased accommodation and fuel supplies, the ships were the perfect escorts. To provide extra protection a further group of five frigates, donated by the primary fleet in Proxima, circled the heavy warships. The Oceania helped boost the troop carrying capacity of the ships. All fifteen vessels were spaced out at a fixed distance from each other. They accelerated uniformly to maintain formation. It was no easy feat to keep from losing ships in this kind of manoeuvre, but the captains had been well trained and the computer systems easily capable of keeping track of the myriad of data. It was critical they all arrived at the same time, or they might be attacked and destroyed piecemeal.
On board the Yorkdale, the large numbers of engineers and crew had done their job well. The ship had been completely transformed in just two weeks, and to all intents and purposes was on its way to becoming a powerful and extremely capable vessel. They were over two-thirds the way to the Anomaly, and yet the innards of the ship looked nothing like when they had left on their mission. Spartan sat down on one of the many benches in the temporary gymnasium he had organised for use by the marines to work in. A dozen other marines continued running circuits or lifting weights. Gun stood to one side, and once satisfied that Spartan was resting, he walked over.
“Gun, how long have you been waiting?”
“Spartan, we have troubling news.”
Spartan was ever surprised with the speed at which they were improving in conversation and dialogue. The Jötnar were never going to be great orators, but they were growing in sophistication, much to Spartan’s pleasure. Gun looked to where Teresa was running. She wore shorts and a khaki tank top and was jogging around the perimeter of the training space.
“Fine woman, Spartan.”
Spartan smiled at the odd compliment from Gun. It wasn’t what a marine would have ever expected to hear from a Jötnar, even from those that had proven themselves many times on their adventures.
“Yes, she is,” he replied.
Spartan watched her run, captivated by her as she moved past them.
“What
was this news?” he asked, suddenly remembering what Gun had first said.
“There is trouble on Oceania.”
“The passenger liner? What’s the problem?”
“Captain Schaffer asked for a Jötnar on each ship for security.”
Spartan looked confused.
“I don’t see the problem. Your Jötnar have proven themselves perfect for ship defence. Hell, we’ve all seen what happens when you board a ship defended by you or your friends.”
Gun forced a smile before continuing.
“No. There is a problem with Jötnar on the Oceania. A marine is dead, Jötnar are blamed.”
“What?” demanded Spartan, his face already tightening with anger.
“I have spoken to the Captain of the ship. He says they were in argument with marines about Biomechs. One officer was present, said Jötnar attacked the marines with blades.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“I know.”
“We have to get there before the news spreads to the rest of the Jötnar in the fleet. Who else knows this?”
Gun shrugged.
“When is the next transport break?”
“Two hours, unless we can get them to stop early.”
“No, it is hard enough getting the entire fleet to cut acceleration at the same time. Last time we did an emergency halt, it required nearly three hours to fix the change in speed and schedule. Don’t forget, we are in the deceleration phase now. We need the engines on to slow down, or we’ll overshoot the Anomaly.”
“I know,” said Gun as he scratched his head. It was obvious he still wasn’t completely convinced on the idea that during the second half of the trip that switching the engines off meant they would reach their target quicker, but they would be unable to stop.
“I can see we are flying backwards, it just isn’t, well. It isn’t right.”
“True, it takes some getting used to. So let me get this straight, there was an argument on the civilian ship between Jötnar and marines. The result is hurt marines and one dead? The officer, who is it?”
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 46
