“Okay, ten minutes break. Send out pickets, watch yourselves out there!” called out an unfamiliar voice. The tone shifted, but it could just as easily have been his hearing as it was to being their voice.
The group stopped, and he found his sled was being rested against a fallen tree. He could see the others moving about now and was surprised to see a few working without their respirators or PDS suits. Most slumped to the ground where they stood, but at least three or four slung their weapons and moved out to the perimeter to check for signs of the enemy. He looked about to try and find a friendly face, but they all looked like faceless crewmen. One person appeared to be in charge of the group but was too far away to be seen. He lifted his hand out and touched his face. He could feel the thin plastic mask, but there was no other armour or obvious wound. He pulled his hand back and spotted the officer in charge move passed him.
“You, Sir!” he called out. The louder he spoke the more his head hurt, and he winced at the pain.
“General, how are you feeling?” asked the officer. The tone of voice had already dropped in volume but also changed in pitch. He was as surprised to see it was a woman as he was to see the firm voice wasn’t a marine, but in fact Lieutenant Nilsson from the Santa Maria. The ship’s communications officer looked as though she had taken charge of the survivors.
“Lieutenant Nilsson?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, Sir. I’m the next more senior here. The rest of the officers were killed at the next crash site. We’re heading for the compound to the south. It’s the designated rally point.”
She moved much closer now, and he easily recognised her face. He remembered her from back on the Crusader, the old battlecruiser that he and Admiral Jarvis had shared for so many months in the War. His head was hurting, but already his mind was racing ahead and trying to collate all the information that he had heard so far. Lieutenant Nilsson sat next to him and reached out to check the dressing on his head.
“How is it?” he asked.
“You’ll be fine, Sir, just a bad case of concussion to deal with now.”
He noticed she wasn’t wearing a respirator and seemed to be managing fine.
“What is the problem with the air?” he asked.
“It’s the air mix, not quite what we’re used to. It takes a few days for your body to adapt. You’ve been on the oxygen since we found you. I couldn’t afford to lose you, Sir. Your mixture is already cut down to half, and by tomorrow you should be able to breathe normally. It’s still not easy, a bit like breathing at high altitude back on Prime. Takes a while for your blood to oxygenate and lungs to catch up.”
General Rivers nodded; he was finally starting to get a picture as to what was going on. He had no doubt in the officer’s ability to lead the party or even with her survival skills. But what she lacked was the big picture, that of the mission. Deep down he knew there was something on this planet, and as the General in command of the operation it was his job, no, his duty, to ensure the mission succeeded.
“The mission?” he asked.
A whistle interrupted them both. It was low tech but instantly gained the attention of the small group. The young Lieutenant signalled for the General to keep his head down, and then she took cover. There was a rustling sound in the woods and he could see a group of dark shapes moving towards them. Half a dozen L48 carbines clicked quietly as those carrying them removed the safeties and prepared for a bloody battle.
“Lieutenant Eastwood, Alliance Marine Corps,” said a nervous but slightly optimistic voice from the shadows.
Lieutenant Nilsson stood up, indicating with her left hand for the others to stay down. She pointed her carbine at the shape and spoke quietly.
“Lieutenant Nilsson, Communications Officer, ANS Santa Maria.”
The foliage ruffled once more, and from the darkness emerged the armoured shapes of six marines, each carrying their weapons at the ready. In front of them stood their commander who opened his visor to show his face.
“Good to meet you, Lieutenant, you made it then? You’ve made quicker progress than we anticipated.”
Lieutenant Nilsson gave a hand signal to her own people to let them know it was safe to move. Her small band emerged from the undergrowth and foliage, and for the first time General Rivers could get a good look at them all. The guards were his personal protectors, and it was clear they were the only fully training warriors in the group. One moved over to check on him.
“Sir, good to see you awake. You had us worried,” he said with a grim expression.
“How far away is the compound?” asked Lieutenant Nilsson.
“Less than an hour. Like I said, you made good progress.”
He turned and waved to his team before looking back to her.
“You’ve done your people proud, Lieutenant Nilsson. Let us help you to the base. We’ve got supplies, power and weapons. You might also want...” he stopped when he spotted the sled and the shape of General Rivers.
“General?” he asked in surprise.
Without checking with Lieutenant Nilsson, he walked passed her and directly to the commander. He stood smartly to attention.
“General Rivers, Sir. We were under the impression you’d been taken hostage.”
The General returned the salute and shook his head.
“No, rumours of my demise have been exaggerated. Get me to your compound as quickly as possible. We have business to attend to if we want to get out of here, and more importantly, we have people to help on this forsaken planet.”
* * *
It took the rest of the afternoon for the group of crew and marines to make the journey to the compound. Although the distance could have been no more than seven kilometres, the sodden ground, frequent marsh and swampland and over a dozen Biomech sightings compounded it. By the time they arrived at the site itself it was getting dark. Even General Rivers was on his feet when they reached the improved compound. They made it within thirty metres of the palisade wall before a marine called down to them.
“Who goes there?” he shouted.
From down on the ground, it wasn’t east to see the man. He was calling from what looked like a control tower. A flaming torch burned quietly away at the rear, and the dark shape of a large firearm protruded from the front and towards them. Below the tower was the outer defence of the compound. It was like something from Earth’s ancient history. The outer wall was nearly five metres tall and built entirely from wood. Partially sharpened stakes stuck out and away from the wall at regular intervals. Along the top of the wall burned dozens of simple torches. Four guards popped their heads up from the barricade to look down at those outside. It was primitive but effective.
“Lieutenant Eastwood, back from patrol. I have survivors from the fleet, including General Rivers.”
The man in the tower said no more but did swing an electrically powered lamp around to inspect the group. The light bumped between several of them before it was switched off, and the man called down to somebody inside the compound.
“Impressive, how long did this all take?” asked General Rivers as he waited to be let in.
“You’d be surprised how quickly people can build something like this in an emergency. The outer wall was up in just over a day. The rest took a little longer. We didn’t have much of a choice. It can get pretty unfriendly at night around here.”
General Rivers looked confused.
“Biomechs?”
The Marine Lieutenant shook his head.
“No, Sir, we’ve had the occasional Zealot patrol out here. But with the secure compound, we can make sure they don’t get in amongst us, and we can send out teams to stop them reporting back.”
“Back?” asked the General. “Have you tried following them to see where they are coming from?”
A large wooden door that had been reinforced with sections from the outer skin of a landing craft was dragged open to reveal a bustling camp with scores of people moving about preparing food, checking weapons and working on
damaged equipment.
“Not yet, Sir. Right now, we’ve been searching for survivors and making sure no Biomechs or Zealots get away alive from here. Once they find us, they will certainly be back and in force.”
The General nodded but didn’t look convinced. They moved inside and quickly spotted the crashed vessel off to one side. More than twenty temporary shelters had been built, and three watchtowers constructed of just wood marked the three corners of the triangular site.
“Who is in charge here?” asked the General.
A small party appeared from one of the shelters and moved towards him. They were all Marine Corps personnel, and although they wore their PDS armour, none were wearing helmets. He recognised Captain Carlos immediately.
“Captain, I should have known it would be you,” he said happily.
“General, it’s not much, but it will do for now.”
He looked to the left and to the smiling Teresa. They knew each other after she and a small team had rescued Spartan and him from the Zealots and their allies on Prometheus. It had been a bloody fight that ended in a full-scale revolt against their control.
“Sergeant Morato, it appears we are in trouble in foreign lands once more!”
The General turned around and looked at his new home, nodding with satisfaction. There was easily enough space for up to five or six hundred people plus a clearing for anything up to the size of a shuttle and landing craft. He turned back to the Captain.
“Okay, I can see you’ve set up a defensible position. Give me a full sitrep. I need to know our numbers, reconnaissance, supplies, and combat effectiveness. Even more importantly, have you been able to make contact off-world or with any more survivors?”
Captain Carlos saluted and then gestured towards one of the shelters.
“We’ve set up that one as a temporary command centre. We have produced rough maps of the area and established four small sentry outposts a kilometre away in each direction.
“Excellent work. Show me. Oh, and where are Captain Cornwall and Commander Petersburg?”
They moved off to the shelter while a number of crew and civilians from the ships came over to assist the new arrivals. Lieutenant Nilsson approached Teresa with a worried look on her face.
“Sergeant?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you noticed something strange with the wildlife here?”
Teresa nodded in agreement and looked about for somewhere to sit down. She spotted a few empty ammo crates and indicated for the Lieutenant to sit down with her.
“Yes, you could say that. They don’t seem to want to attack us, but they are very interested for some reason.”
Lieutenant Nilsson looked out to the wooden walls and the dark shapes of the trees that lay much further away. She felt as if she was barricaded inside a castle of ancient times.
“We thought they were hunting us, so we killed a few of them. They have the armour and markings of the Zealots, but they only fought us when we attacked them. Is it their programming, or is something else going on?”
Teresa shrugged.
“I don’t know. Spartan keeps telling me that with the Core destroyed all the Biomechs lost their central control and reverted to their core memories and experiences. Maybe these escaped from the Zealots and have been living in the wild?”
Wild Biomechs? Thought Lieutenant Nilsson. Is that better or worse that Echidna Zealots?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Anomaly and its secrets were never fully understood during the War. Apart from a fully functioning Spacebridge, the derelict structures seemed unnecessary complications for a natural phenomenon. The discovery of computer equipment over three centuries old started a series of philosophical and scientific arguments that raged for months until the discoveries on Hyperion.
Computational Methods Vol. IV
Captain Spartan, Major Daniels and Admiral Churchill looked at the planetary scans from the drones once more. They’d been looking over the information for days now as they tried to formulate a plan, based on the limited knowledge of the area. Admiral Churchill walked away from the table for a moment, his forehead in his hand as he thought.
“We’ve only got three more days left, and I’m still not happy about this. When we get there, we will have to be fast. You saw the reports from ANS Minotaur.”
Major Daniels moved several units on the map of the planet and then stood up straight to look over to the Admiral.
“We’re not going to have to take chances with this one, Sir. We have a rough idea of the range of their weapons as well as the electronics and communication jamming gear that they have access to.”
“True, but what about the lack of control on the ships? How did they disable our vessels so effectively?”
There was a short pause as they considered the question. Spartan was the last to speak, but he was sure the two men were looking at the problem in the wrong way.
“Look. They either used technology based on or around Hyperion, or they had inside help. Minotaur suffered the same problems, but when she reached a safe distance not all of her systems were back to normal. It can’t be a signal, so they must have got something aboard.”
Admiral Churchill nodded.
“Like those damned AI Hubs we found on our ships before?”
Spartan lifted his eyebrows at the idea and nodded in agreement.
“Could be, how though? That would mean there are still traitors in our ranks and with access to the command and control systems in our ships. We’ve checked our people time and time again.”
Admiral Churchill walked back to the board and brought up the schematics of the ships involved in the original taskforce. There was little in common with each ship, not even their host planets or configuration. Alongside each of them were the captains and their senior officers. He ran his finger along them all but could find nothing of note, until he reached the XO of ANS Santa Maria.
“Ah,” he said, almost to himself.
Spartan walked up and looked where he was pointing.
“What is it?”
“Commander Petersburg. He’s the weakest link in the entire fleet. He’s second in command of the flagship and has a history that is well known in the Navy. Experienced, skilled, and rated at the top of his class in the Academy, yet he’s managed to avoid open battle every single time.”
Major Daniels rubbed his cheek as he considered the comments.
“I’ve known good men, good officers that by a stroke of luck managed to avoid combat. Sometimes it’s intentional, but most of the time it isn’t. How does this help us? We still don’t know what they did or how they stopped so many systems from working?”
Admiral Churchill didn’t seem particular impressed with their thoughts even though they were perfectly justified. He brought back the map of the planet. With the press of two buttons, it zoomed into one particular part of the world.
“We know this was the source of the ground fire. I suspect there is a base or site of some kind being used by the enemy. Controlling Hyperion requires total domination of the space around the planet. Our priority is to disable the weapons on the planet. Once this is done, we can send in one ship at a time to establish what power or strength the enemy has.”
Major Daniels seemed a little happier at this first suggestion.
“My ground troops have been training for days now, and Spartan and his Jötnar have practiced over a dozen scenarios from frontal assault and hostage rescue through to hand-to-hand with Biomechs. They are ready for whatever you want them to do. We’re packing five companies plus change.”
“How about your Vanguards?” asked Admiral Churchill.
Major Daniels nodded at the question.
“Just half a platoon, I’m afraid. There wasn’t time to transfer the gear from Terra Nova. Also, most of the men trained up on the gear are training other units. Still, sixteen is better than none, and they are all experienced.”
All three looked at the map and the flashing zones aro
und the suspected weapon emplacements. He then brought up an additional monitor that showed the ANS Tamarisk. Admiral Churchill waited a little while longer as he examined the details before him. As the senior officer, he was responsible for commanding the Taskforce but had also been given tactical command of the ground operation.
“My plan is simple. The fleet will move in to a position not far from where ANS Minotaur made first contact. We know this location is clear from both weapons fire and communication blocking. This is our operating zone, and no vessel will leave it unless it meets our agreed criteria.”
He placed his finger on the display and drew a circle around the point in space he had selected. He pointed back to ANS Tamarisk.
“When in position, ANS Tamarisk will advance into medium orbit and drop a strike team down to a position near the ground batteries. It will be small and include the most experienced Special Forces and technical crew to the surface.”
Major Daniels shook his head in disapproval.
“Admiral, I appreciate the need to disable their systems, but dropping troops directly onto their weapon position? That would be suicide, Sir. They will detect the ship in orbit and probably destroy it before it can launch shuttles. We’ll be dead before we get through the atmosphere.”
The Admiral shook his head, and Spartan watched as he pointed out several of the more unusual features of the ship.
“No, not quite. The Tamarisk is the most advanced special operations vessel we have. It’s taken over a year to fix the damage she sustained during combat at Prometheus. She has the best computers, including an active intelligence countermeasures suite that should help if they attempt to take control. Even better though, she carries a complement of three black ops shuttles. After her last mission, she was enlarged to carry more troops and equipment. You know the shuttles; they were developed for dropping teams into combat undetected. Each one can carry eight fully armoured marines into battle. After re-entry, you should be able to land before their systems can lock on and track you. Unless they are looking in the exact spot, you should be able to land undetected.”
Star Crusades Uprising: The Second Trilogy Page 77
