Even more important was the news on the uprisings taking place. It seemed there were more Confederate loyalists than her intelligence division had led her to believe. The attack on the spaceport on Yama City by Captain Erdeniz was just one of many similar events throughout Proxima Centauri. She took a sip from a glass and brought up the fleet roster. It was something she checked daily. Each vessel in the Confederacy was listed, along with its status, weapons load and personnel. A window appeared to the side of the display, it was Lieutenant Nilsson the communications officer.
“Admiral, I have Captain Hardy of the Wasp on the internal comms line. He has an urgent message regarding the Anomaly Taskforce.”
Her mouth pulled a little as she thought of the Anomaly. She hoped it was something good for a change.
“Put him through.”
The image disappeared to be replaced by a slightly distorted image from the Confederate Escort Carrier. It was Captain Hardy, the commander of the carrier. The image quickly stabilised as the buffering and error-correction kicked in.
“Captain.”
“Admiral, my electronic warfare team have picked up some unusual readings coming from the Santa Cruz taskforce. I have sent them to your ECM section for analysis. But I have concerns about some of the readings, and I thought you’d want to know immediately.”
“Interesting, what kind of readings?”
The Captain moved from the screen for a moment and then returned to press several buttons.
“We’ve been getting an almost permanent data stream from the warships in the force, as is normal of course. The issue is in the last six hours. Something has changed, and it has me worried.”
Her heart fluttered for a moment as she considered the myriad of explanations in her mind. Losing the signal could mean only one of two things, either they were unwilling to transmit or they were unable to transmit. Either option wasn’t good, and it could spell disaster for both the taskforce and also the ships already trying to hold on at the Anomaly.
“Please explain.”
“Yes, Admiral. I will pass you on to my electronic warfare officer, Lieutenant Mills.”
The officer stood next to the Captain and with a brush of his hand sent over several colour schematics and charts.”
“As you can see, the total spread of data became damaged over six hours ago. The first feed lost was from the Oceania, quickly followed by the Santa Cruz. Less than thirty minutes later, all traffic stopped. The last data from the Santa Cruz implied some kind issue with the military forces on board the Oceania.”
“The civilian transport?”
“Yes, Sir. It is the passenger liner requisitioned by Captain Schaffer for the operation.”
“What is your assessment, Lieutenant?”
“They are still travelling to the Anomaly. We have been able to pick up several status indicators over the last hour. They were faint, but still active. The main ships, at the very least, are still moving to the Anomaly and also conducting routine transport runs every twenty-four hours.”
“Well, that is something. So, we assume something is going on aboard these vessels? How far behind them are we?”
“Current figures are approximately eighteen hours and seven minutes.”
“Can you push any faster?”
Captain Hardy shook his head.
“No, Admiral. Wasp is fast, but we can’t push harder than we’re going. The engines are already providing the correct deceleration to get us there on schedule. We can overshoot, but we’d need to boost the engines for several hours. The increased g forces could cause massive problems. The internal bracings for the aircraft can’t take more than a single g of gravity. Even an increase of point one could cause substantial internal damage amongst our onboard equipment. We’d get there but be next to useless in combat.”
“Understood. In that case, I will take Crusader and half the escorts ahead. We will cut our engines and thereby decrease the time to get there.”
“If you do that, you will need to massively overpower your engines. It could cause problems, but if you don’t, you’ll just overshoot.”
“I’m aware of the risks, Captain. Make sure your people are ready. In eighteen hours, I suspect the deciding battle of the sector will be fought. I just hope we get there in time to do some good.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
The image turned black and Admiral Jarvis leaned back slightly as she considered the problem. Apart from the forces under the command of the stalwart General Rivers, the rest were all in transmit or pinned down at the Anomaly. The weeks it was taking to get forces into position for both sides had created a dangerous opportunity that she had exploited ruthlessly. She just prayed the enemy hadn’t done the same. She hit her comms unit again, the face of Lieutenant Nilsson appeared.
“Admiral.”
“I need a full status report from the Furious Battlegroup immediately. I need information, and I need it fast.”
“Yes, Sir, I will sent out a priority dispatch immediately.”
“Thank you.”
The image cut and Admiral Jarvis was left with a sickening feeling of dread in her stomach. Something inside her was telling her to fall back to Proxima and prepare the defences. In her heart, she already knew there was nothing she could do. There was also the issue of the Biomechs and their masters. It was already clear the Confederate forces could never match them long term. Their numbers grew with each month, but her own forces were becoming weaker and weaker by the day.
“Gods, no. What if they planned this to trick me into a final battle to destroy all that we have left?” she whispered to herself.
* * *
Spartan was starting to get annoyed. Every time he woke up, he ended up in an even worse position than before. This time he was shackled in a hangar with six armed marines. They all wore PDS armoured suits with their visors down and blackened. Whoever they were, they wore no insignia and their faces were hidden. Gun was also shackled several metres away. The thick carbon filament shackles bound him firmly to the bulkhead. As he lay there, he heard the sound of boots approaching. It didn’t take long for the hated figure of Captain Hobbs to appear, flanked by a number of marine and naval personnel. She ignored him and walked up to the guards watching the room. After a brief conversation, she walked closer to Spartan and looked down at him.
“Lieutenant, under Section 15 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, I am arresting you and Commander Gun on the charges of murder, mutiny and sedition. I have been duly authorised, as the senior officer on this vessel, as both judge and jury in times of war. Due to issues outside of our control, we are unable to transfer personnel between the main combat vessels. Because of this, you have been assigned a marine representative. Captain Schaffer has decided to place Sergeant Marcus Keller in this position. He has been selected due to his previous experiences with you, and that you will be able to trust him as your counsel. He will meet with you shortly to discuss your defence.”
Spartan tried to move his fist, but the heavy-duty manacles pinned him into position. Captain Hobbs watched his discomfort with pleasure. Spartan noted her expression, and even as he struggled, it was perfectly clear to him that this was a well-planned operation.
“Hobbs,” he said through his teeth. She leaned forward, close enough that he could smell her, but not enough that he could actually reach her.
“Yes?” she asked innocently.
“You really are a bitch. I’ve fought against half-breed Biomechs and traitorous Zealots, and next to you they were honourable angels. How can you judge this when you were present at the scene? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
She smiled at him and indicated to one of the marines to come and lift him up. The shackles were connected to a rod that ensured Spartan was unable to reach his captors.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. This trial is only concerned with you and your Biomech allies killing the Captain, his crew and guard and others aboard a civilian ship. What you did to me, and my own
marines, is a separate matter that I doubt we will need to get to.”
“What? You’re just going to hang me out to dry, aren’t you? If you hadn’t taken me prisoner to start...”
She turned away from him, ignoring his words and talking over him.
“Sergeant, make sure they are presentable for their counsel. The trial will begin in six hours, and I intend on getting this resolved quickly. We will arrive at the Anomaly in a little under fifty hours. We need to prepare our forces for the coming battle, and Spartan and his friends have already caused enough trouble. They cannot monopolise our time. Get them cleaned up so that they are ready to be presented to the Tribunal. They are beginning to stink.”
“Sir!” barked the Sergeant with a smart salute.
She left the room as quickly as she had arrived. Spartan looked to Gun, but the great warrior was too heavily drugged to be able to communicate, let alone attempt to even speak. He thought to himself, trying to gauge what exactly Hobbs was up to. It was clear she hated him and anybody that was on his side. Why the murders though? What had happened, and how exactly was she caught up in it all?
“Marine!” he called to the closest armoured man, but he ignored Spartan.
“Hey, when is my representative going to get here?”
The man still refused to move, but another crewmember approached from off to his right. Spartan didn’t recognise him, but he was wearing a naval uniform.
“Lieutenant, Sergeant Keller is due to arrive within the hour. You may confer with him then.”
“Who are you?”
The man stepped back and walked to a position off to the side and out of Spartan’s sight. Spartan sat quietly, waiting for the arrival of Marcus. He thought back to his friends on the Yorkdale, especially Teresa. She must be crazy with worry at the news of what was going on, assuming she even knew. He opened his eyes and looked about. He had to do something, and fast.
* * *
Marcus finally arrived, and after such a long wait, Spartan was starting to feel as though he would go mad. It must have been at least three hours since he had seen Hobbs leave, and he had been ignored since then, even when calling out for water. His old friend approached with a mixture of anger and remorse to his face. Spartan did his best to lift himself to his old comrade.
“Marcus, what have you done?”
“Spartan, we have a room to speak in. Don’t say anything until then.”
The two men looked at each other, both doubting the other’s intentions. It was a far cry from their days of fighting the Zealots and Union troops in ground battles throughout Proxima. Marcus turned to walk away, saying no more to Spartan. The marine guards did their bit to help Spartan to his feet, but they made sure only two were ever close enough to assist him. They were not taking chances and each maintained their weapons position. It was a short walk to a storeroom that had evidently been recently cleared for their use. A desk was in the middle with a striped, simple looking chair placed at each side. Marcus stepped in first and beckoned for Spartan to enter. They moved in and sat down. Spartan lifted his hands, but the Sergeant of the guard shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I’ve been left with strict orders. You must stay shackled and the Biomech has to stay in the loading bay.”
He left the room and pulled the door shut behind him. Spartan turned his gaze to his old sergeant.
“What the hell is going on here, Marcus?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who’s been helping the Jötnar, no matter the costs.”
Spartan looked down at his hands, still surprised at the sudden change in the man.
“What is it? Tell me!”
Marcus sat quietly, but it was clear there was something.
“Come on, man, we’ve fought and bled next to each other, at least tell me what has turned you against them.”
Marcus leaned forward with both hands on the table.
“It doesn’t matter, all you need to know is these things have hurt people, people that are close to me and people that mean something. I can live with the Jötnar not being exterminated. They’ve done their part, but I can’t abide by them being with us, treated as though they’ve been part of the Confederacy for hundreds of years.”
He pointed towards Spartan.
“The Confederacy is for people like you and me. Okay, humans, not some mutated monsters.”
“You know what that sounds like to me?” said Spartan.
Marcus looked hard at him and shook his head.
“This is the kind of black and white language I’ve heard from the bigots in the Union. Only a Zealot would see things so plainly.”
Marcus shook his head, but his temper seemed to have abated, if just a little. He said nothing and simply looked at several of the files on his datapad. Spartan watched him for a while before he realized he hadn’t asked him the most important question.
“Marcus, forget the Jötnar, what about that bitch Hobbs? Tell me you’re not in league with her.”
He looked at Spartan with a frown of confusion or possibly doubt on his brow.
“Look, Spartan. We don’t have much time, and according to this file there is a stack of evidence against you and the other Jötnar.”
“So?”
Marcus lowered the datapad onto the table and rubbed his eyebrow.
“If I don’t put together a half decent case for you, you’ll be convicted of at least three crimes. You know the punishment for sedition in times of war, don’t you?”
Spartan said nothing.
“It’s death, specifically spacing in our current situation.”
“Why do you care? You turned against me, Gun and Teresa over Euryale. Why would you want to help us now?”
“I don’t agree with what you’ve done, but I also know you. I’ve fought alongside you, and you would never betray or turn on your brothers. I don’t believe for a minute you were involved with the murder of Bishop.”
“So why help Hobbs?”
“Just because I’m not after your balls like she is, doesn’t mean I’m happy with the Jötnar with us. She is a necessary evil, but until we can cleanse the ship of this conspiracy, and the Jötnar responsible, I will have to work with her.”
Spartan shook his head, still surprised at the speed with which his old friend had turned on him.
“So what exactly am I supposed to have done then to deserve spacing?”
Marcus looked back at his datapad and slid it over to him.
“Well, first of all there is evidence from Euryale and your training aboard the Yorkdale that incriminates you. You abandoned marine and infantry units in favour of Jötnar troops in orbit. The training information entered as evidence is related specifically towards you and the Vanguards that joined the Jötnar. According to Captain Hobbs, your men have gone feral. They have adopted Jötnar customs, techniques and their battlefield bloodlust.”
Spartan tried to stand but found the shackles had already magnetically sealed. He finally calmed down and leaned forward.
“Are you kidding me? I’m being accused of turning marines into feral Jötnar foot soldiers? You honestly believe that?”
Marcus shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. The rest of the evidence relates to the testimony of Confederate Marine Corps marines that confirm a group of Jötnar attacked and killed Bishop after a verbal disagreement. Further evidence shows you and your team arrived on the Oceania with the sole intention of seizing the prisoners and fighting your way off the ship. It says here, your men were all heavily armed and that a group of them, including one of your sergeants, is still at large.”
He paused and looked at Spartan suspiciously.
“Is that true?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Marcus. You know me. The only issue we have is that I think the Jötnar have a place alongside us, and you don’t. Other than that, nothing has changed. If you think I would kill our own marines, then you’re a complete and utter asshole!”
Spartan leaned b
ack and turned his glance away from Marcus, his temper now flaring and his pulse pounding. He stayed there, determined not to be drawn in any further.
“Good, that is exactly what I thought. You realise this tribunal is nothing but a sham, don’t you?” Marcus asked.
Spartan turned back, a look of confusion and surprise on his face.
“What?”
“I just had to be sure. The question is how can we stop you and Gun from being put out of the airlock? The evidence I have here will get you both dead in a matter of hours.”
“You’re serious?” he asked.
Marcus smiled at Spartan, and for just a second he had a glimmer of his old friend.
“I’m glad you’re here, you crazy old bastard!” said Spartan. He smiled and this time it was almost relaxed.
“I have a few ideas.”
* * *
Teresa and Kowalski hunched over the antiquated transceiver, listening carefully to the heavily phased transmission sent from the bowels of Oceania. Teresa could barely hear anything, but Kowalski, with years of technical training and experience, was just about able to split the signal into discernable streams.
“There, that should do it,” he exclaimed.
“Go on then, let’s hear it.”
“Confirmed, prisoners are being cross-examined. Good chance of guilty…” there was a loud crackle, “most marines on board are green, no knowledge or experience of Hobbs or…”
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 49
