Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “They’re ours!” she said firmly and looked to the marines who continued to drag equipment from the shattered remains of the landing craft. The gunfire from an L48 rifle had a very distinctive sound due to its large calibre ammunition and high velocity. Most of the sounds came from these with the odd thud from L52 Mark II Assault Carbines that were carried by the ASOG troops; the sounds from the coil weapons was unlike any other kind of firearm.

  “Only ours, though?” asked Sergeant Lovett rhetorically.

  The internal comms inside Sergeant Morato’s suit crackled again, and the signal was able to burn through whatever had been causing the interference. This time it wasn’t the Captain, It was the XO from the Santa Maria.

  “Commander Petersburg here. All units rendezvous at the second landing site. We are under attack and need immediate assistance. Hostiles are in the area. I repeat. Hostiles are overrunning our perimeter.”

  Crap! Teresa thought.

  She, Lovett and another twenty-one marines and ASOG troopers wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. The last two were already out of the craft and carrying one of the destroyed landing craft’s pintle-mounted machineguns. Luckily, the Marine Corps had the foresight to modify the weapons mount system so that the gun could be detached upon landing for such an eventuality. She was pleased to see her six troopers were all safe, but of the marines she could identify only half. All were junior ranks, mostly privates with the odd corporal thrown in.

  “Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll form into two units, one under me, and the other under Sergeant Lovett, here,” she explained while pointing to her old friend.

  “Split up, half with each of us. Carry as much of the gear as you can. We need to get to the Commander and fast.”

  A series of quick acknowledgements greeted her followed by a flurry of activity. Each strapped on what they could, and half of the marines lifted up the salvaged containers in pairs. It took just seconds for them to be ready to move out from the vulnerable landing zone. Its only advantage was the open space that provided a killing ground for their firearms.

  “Good, let’s go!” called out Teresa.

  The two groups of ASOG troopers moved out in front of the marines in four pairs. They moved fast and with their carbines held up to their shoulders. They trained for rapid deployment and were easily able to cover the ground quickly while protecting the unit. Behind them snaked the two columns of marines, half carrying equipment, and the other half checking the area for signs of the enemy. On her display in her PDS suit, Teresa identified the position of the Commander. It was almost four hundred metres from their position and through the thick jungle. They moved to the treeline, and as soon as she stepped inside, the available light cut in half. Her suit was equipped with light amplification imagery and easily adjusted.

  “Watch your corners and expect trouble. There’s something out here, and it ain’t friendly.”

  * * *

  Spartan entered the bar to find Khan and a dozen others of his contacts waiting for him. The regulars that had been inside must have left in the last hour as no other soul was waiting, other than a single barman handing out a continuous supply of glasses. He walked into the middle of the room and looked at each of them. Most were marines, men and women he’d served with, but a few were there by reputation alone. Khan had brought Osk plus another of his brethren that he’d not seen before. Major Daniels sat in the corner, flanked by two sergeants. To his surprise there were also two soldiers from the Terra Nova Guards, both decorated men in their late thirties.

  “Captain,” announced the Major, spotting Spartan’s arrival.

  Spartan approached him and saluted.

  “Sir. Do you think you could have found anywhere a little less conspicuous?”

  Daniels smiled at him. The two went back a long way, and although their first encounters had been more confrontational, they’d learnt to respect and trust each other. He pointed to the Terra Novans.

  “I didn’t have time to do much. The message from the Admiral got to me less than thirty minutes ago. The Santa Cruz already knows I am bringing a training crew with some of the finest and most specialised people in the Confederacy.”

  “Ahem,” coughed one of the marines sarcastically.

  Daniels smiled at the reminder.

  “Yes, as I was saying, the most specialised people in the Alliance. I have your recommended PT instructors from the Marine Corps, tech specialists from Prometheus, and underground warfare experts from Carthago.”

  Even Spartan looked impressed as the Major pointed out each of the individuals. As he reached the tech specialist, he was sure he recognised a face.

  “Kowalski? What are you doing here?”

  An old friend of his and Teresa’s, Kowalski had been working on Prometheus since before the final battle at Terra Nova. He was a marine and also one of the best hackers and computer experts in the military.

  “Commander Anderson sent me and a team to request additional equipment and personnel for back on Prometheus. There are big changes happening there.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Who else did you bring?”

  The door opened behind him and another four people entered, including the large hulk of a familiar looking Jötnar. He pushed passed the others and grabbed Spartan, pulling him close to his vast body.

  “Spartan!” he growled in a voice that anybody else would think was that of a creature about to try and kill him. Unable to breathe, let alone speak, Spartan was forced to wait until he released his grip and stepped back.

  “Gun? You’re here with Kowalski?”

  His old friend and leader of the Jötnar nodded.

  “Not just me, I brought a whole squad of my brothers. Have you not heard? We have our own underground city on Prometheus. We called it the Arsenal.”

  Spartan grinned at the name.

  “Why am I not surprised?” he said in amusement.

  Major Daniels stood up and shook the hands of the recently arrived.

  “Okay, time is of the essence. Remember, this is an official training operation. The Jötnar are here to test the troops on the Santa Cruz for their Biomech combat drills, and the rest of you have your own duties. Under no circumstances imply we are there for any other reason. Understood?”

  The assembled men, women and Jötnar nodded in agreement.

  “Good, take separate shuttles. I will see you all in due course aboard the old girl. Good luck to you all.”

  One of the marine instructors opened the door and stepped out, the rest followed in ones and twos. Gun approached Khan, Osk and Spartan and leaned in close.

  “I have things I want to talk to you all about, when we’re up there,” he said, his hand pointing to the ceiling.

  “Is this good or bad things you want to talk about?” asked Spartan.

  Gun grinned, and Spartan instantly recognised it as one of those grins he gave when he was about to smash something up.

  Oh, great, just what I need.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The events at Hyperion proved once and for all the importance of autonomous robotics. Their ability to operate independently and without biological support constraints made them deadly in space. Loyal, reliable and powerful, it was inevitable that the next logical development in weapons and ship technology would come in the form of the robot. Little did humanity realise that their inspiration would come from the very Devil they sought to eradicate, Echidna herself.

  Robots in Space

  The journey into orbit was a rarity for Spartan, and one that didn’t require him to crash or board a ship under incoming fire. It was almost pleasant, apart from the issue of arriving with the hidden intention of prepping the crew and troops on board for a possible mission to Hyperion. They had split up after their short chat on Terra Nova and only a handful travelled with him to the ship. Next to him were the Major, Khan and Gun. Gun still wore his eye-patch even though Spartan knew he had been fitted out with a replacement back on Prometheus over a year ago. The other Jötnar
were travelling with the marines and Terra Nova guards in a transport due to land in the next six hours. The Major had organised it this way so they could discuss the plan en route.

  “You’ll be pleased to know the Admiral has arranged for several other ships to make their way here under the auspices of conducting a training scenario with the Cruz.”

  “Good, how many ships?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I know the assault cruisers Royal Oak and Ark Royal are both heading this way from operations at Carthago. A handful of destroyers have been sent from the escort at the Anomaly as well. I’d say three to four days, and we’ll have anything up to ten ships including the Cruz.”

  “Can’t we just get underway immediately? Orders be damned!”

  “No, Spartan, no chance. There’s one thing high command loves more than trouble and that’s somebody that break the rules, you know that. Most of the captains would refuse to go, especially when they hear that every ship that has been sent there has vanished. Did the Admiral tell you that he persuaded the Senate to send three of the new drone frigates to investigate?”

  “No he didn’t, that’s something at least. Let’s hope they tell us something before they can be jammed.”

  “Agreed,” replied the Major who sat back and gazed out of the window at the peaceful skies of Terra Nova below them. “You know, every time I do this run it reminds me of the last attack by the Crusader. What a ship.”

  “What an Admiral,” added Spartan ruefully. “A lot of good people died in those last hours.”

  Spartan looked down to the planet, but all that he remembered was the landing under fire. It had been violent and deadly before he even set foot on the planet. The ground battle itself had been short and bloody, but it had ended the War. He spotted Gun looking at him and remembered his request in the bar.

  “Okay, we’re here now. What did you want you say?” asked Spartan.

  Gun looked to Khan and back to the two marine officers. The two Jötnar looked strange as they sat in their shuttle seats. They had been equipped with extended straps for the seating of the kind usually used for pregnant women. Their girth was substantial as was their height.

  “Since the war, my people have been given areas on Prometheus to live. We don’t mind the heat, but we are running out of space. We’ve used all the space Anderson can afford to give us, but the only area left is the new shipyard, and this is being used on new Alliance ships.”

  Spartan lifted up his hands.

  “Gun, there’s no way the Alliance is going to give you full control of the planet. They are building more factories and shipyards, and it’s going to be one of the largest manufacturing sites in the entire Alliance.”

  Gun nodded.

  “I know, but isn’t enough. Our problem is growing with each new Biomech sent to us. The people on Terra Nova and Prime have forgotten us, and now our space is being used as a dumping ground for any enemies of the Alliance that you find.”

  “I see. Well, what about Anderson? I thought he had been helping you?” asked the Major.

  “Anderson is a true friend of my people. With the room running out, he has been helping us to convert three ships as replacements for the Yorkdale, but it won’t be enough, and the Alliance will never grant us permission to manage and run our own ships in their territory.”

  Major Daniels nodded at the news and looked to Spartan.

  “I heard something about a container ship being requisitioned for storage use by Anderson. I didn’t know it was going quite this way though. He’s a canny operator, I’ll give him that.”

  “Okay, I assume there is a question somewhere, Gun?” he asked, still unclear as to the point that was being made.

  “The Senate still have not approved Jötnar as citizens of the Alliance. The agreement between Dr Hamis and us has been thrown away. With our new females and the Biomechs sent to us for...”

  “Re-education!” added an angry sounding Khan.

  Gun grinned at the word.

  “Yes, with them our numbers are growing. We have thousands, and they are getting restless.”

  Oh great, thousands of bored Jötnar with a grudge. I can see what’s coming.

  “If something isn’t done, and soon, my people will force me to take action. I don’t want to do this, so I ask you, Spartan, my friend, to speak with the Senate. We fought for your people, and we still build their ships and clear up their mess.”

  Spartan reached out and placed his hand on his old friend’s shoulder.

  “It’s alright, Gun. You keep your people in line, and I will make sure they resolve this once and for all.”

  Major Daniels had been listening to the conversation intently. He knew Gun well, and they had also served together back when the Yorkdale had been an armoured transport used exclusively by the 1st Jötnar Assault Battalion. A unit made up of thousands of battle hardened Jötnar, each equipped with heavy weapons and armour.

  “I agree with Spartan. When we get back, I’ll throw my support into your cause. I argued against the disbanding of the Jötnar Assault Battalion when it was decided six months ago. I know the public were against the idea of Jötnar troops but that’s only because of prejudice against Biomechs in general. One way or another, your people will have the space and life they deserve.”

  Gun looked to Khan who barely even considered the plan before agreeing.

  “Okay, deal. Now, back to this secret mission. Whose head do you want thumped and when?”

  Spartan shook his head with amusement and settled back to watch their approach. The ANS Santa Cruz had just come into view, and it was a sight he never tired of watching. The ship was massive, and the rotating sections moved at quite a rate. Three thunderbolt fighters moved passed in formation as they maintained a permanent Combat Air Patrol around the ship.

  Yes, you protect this ship, but it’s not like we have many available right now, is it?

  * * *

  Sergeant Morato’s first view of the crashed lifeboat was of the shattered body of the ship’s captain. Much like her own craft, this one was shredded with anti-aircraft fire from the descent to the planet. She’d assaulted moons, stations and urban settlements before but never under such concentrated and effective gunfire. She looked briefly at Captain George Cornwall, but the sight of his bloodied and broken body snapped her into action.

  “Commander?” she called out on the close-ranged secure channel.

  Her ASOG troops had already spread out around the crash site, but apart from a few bodies, there was no sign of the Commander or the rest of the unit.

  “Commander Petersburg, please respond?” she asked again but once more was met by the digital coldness of silence. Gone were the days of analogue static.

  The two columns of marines arrived, carrying their wounded plus all the equipment they had salvaged. The one good thing about the crash site of the second vessel, however, was that it was near a raised, rocky bank next to a gently flowing river. The woodland was less thick here and gave better visibility.

  Corporal Jenkins spoke to some of the marines from his unit and then walked over to the two sergeants. His armour was scratched and muddied from the landing and trudging through the filthy, waterlogged ground they had landed in. As he moved towards them, something caught his attention. Sergeant Lovett turned his head and spotted a dark shape in the trees. The marines might not recognise it but he certainly did.

  “Biomechs!” he cried and on cue, the eight ASOG troops dropped to their knees with their carbines raised and ready for battle.

  It was in the direction none of them had expected when a dozen Biomechs lifted themselves from the water. They looked much like the synthetic Jötnar he had seen before. They carried the metal armour often seen worn by the creatures in the service of the Union and their Zealot friends. The first to leave the water pounded forward and towards the crashed lifeboat. Sergeant Morato and two ASOG troopers lay directly in its path. It screamed as it ran forward until silenced by high-power shots from their
triple-barrelled L52 Mark II Assault Carbines. As its body slumped to the ground, the other eleven creatures surged forward in a loose line. The marines and troopers opened fire, sending streaks of ammunition from their weapons. Four more were brought down but the rest kept moving forward.

  “Take cover!” shouted Sergeant Morato, but it was already too late. The creatures crashed into their positions, moved past, and disappeared into the treeline behind them. One marine was sent to the ground by the impact of the last charging Biomech and was saved from being painfully crushed by two ASOG troopers smashing it away with the butts of their carbines. Then just as quickly as it had started, they were gone.

  Teresa lifted herself from her position and scanned the area around where they stood. No more Biomechs appeared to be there, but she stayed where she was to double-check. The thermal imaging showed the shapes of the marines plus subtle changes in the scrub and foliage. She turned to speak to Sergeant Lovett but then detected a small heat bloom to the west.

  “Stay down, possible hostiles, two-hundred metres to the west!” she called out.

  The small group of kept low and held their weapons ready, expecting yet another Biomech assault.

  “Please respond, this is Captain Carlos, 1st Company. I have wounded marines with me.”

  Teresa breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the officer. She lifted herself up and walked slowly in the direction of the approaching force. The IFF system on her suit identified the nearest to be friendly, but the others were not yet in range. She turned back to her own forces that were still staying low and expecting trouble.

  “Hold your fire, possible friendlies entering the area.”

  Four marines moved out of the treeline first and behind them came a group of navy crewmen. Teresa didn’t recognise them, but they could easily have come from one of the cruisers. She looked at them carefully until recognising the armoured form of Captain Carlos. The rest of his group entered the clearing as he moved directly to Teresa. His armour was almost the same as his men with just subtle differences in insignia and a marking on the side of his helmet.