Siege of Titan

by Michael G. Thomas

  The rumble of the engines was much more prominent than normal and he could feel it through the deck. He had only thirty minutes break before he was to return to the gun decks for additional testing and practice. The Captain had already informed them that action was imminent and that this would be the first time the Fleet had been used in anger in over thirty years. Although his room was deep inside the vessel, he did have a virtual window that gave the illusion of facing the hull of the ship. He could make out the infinite number of stars and he thought to himself how wondrous it would be to be able to travel fast enough to visit them. So far, no vessels had been able to travel faster than light. There were still plenty of books and movies being made based upon the assumption it would happen but after many generations nothing had changed. The journey from Earth to Alpha Centauri still took just under ten years and though the transports still plied their way between the old and the new world, it wasn’t fast enough for them to expand into the real recesses of deep space.

  The sound of his door alarm buzzed and he pressed the intercom button without even taking his eyes off the screen.

  “Ensign Harris here, Sir, I have the firing results for you.”

  Erdeniz hit the button and the door slid open neatly. In walked the Ensign with his computer tablet in his hands. His uniform was a little scruffy and Erdeniz was already feeling irritable when he saw the man enter.

  “You could have sent it to my account you know!”

  “Yes, Sir, I needed to bring you something else though.”

  “Really?” he replied sarcastically.

  There was something strange about Harris he thought, his face looked clammy and there was something else, yes, the real difference was in his demeanour. He always appeared subservient to authority but for some reason he looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Erdeniz put it down to the stress or concern of the upcoming action with the insurgents. He made to reach forward to take the tablet when he noticed something on the Ensign’s foot. He looked closer, noticing the dark red stain. It looked like fortified wine or maybe blood. He smiled to himself as he though of claret and its double meaning before it dawned on him.

  “What happened to your foot?” he asked though his pulse was already telling him something very bad was about to happen.

  The Ensign looked directly at Erdeniz, his expression changing to anger or more likely contempt. He remembered the look from his micro expression classes during his psychology modules. It was the look of a man who was suddenly showing his true feelings and they were like nothing he had ever experienced face to face before. He recoiled slightly at the man’s expression.

  “Shit!” he muttered as he reached for the alarm on the wall.

  The Ensign rushed forward, drawing a roughly made blade from inside his tunic. The blade was narrow, almost like a stiletto. It had the look of a weapon that had been fabricated from something on the ship. It certainly wasn’t military issue. It had no discernable edges but did have a vicious point that could probably penetrate even the thickest clothing. It was like a cross between a stiletto and a prison made shiv.

  With the weapon held high he jumped forward, covering the distance in no time at all and stabbed hard. As he moved he cried out, shrieking in some unintelligible language. Erdeniz reacted quickly but it wasn’t quick enough and as he turned the blade struck him in the shoulder. The pain was excruciating and he screamed out at the same time as hitting the button. The alarm triggered immediately as he slumped to the floor. The blade had penetrated its entire length and blood was already pouring profusely from the wound. He tried to move but something heavy smashed into the side of his head and he found himself lying on the floor. The room started to blur and he was convinced he was dying.

  “Get up you idiot!” he shouted in his mind, desperately trying to keep his eyes open, not wanting to give the man the opportunity to finish him off.

  The pain was agonising but he kept at it, finally able to roll onto his front and reached around to the blade. As he turned, he half expected the next final blow but the Ensign was busy rummaging through his personal terminal, scrolling through his classified data. Erdeniz reached to his thigh and clicked open the holster, withdrew his sidearm and pointed it at the Ensign.

  “Get back from the terminal, Ensign!”

  He tried to stand but the pain ripped though his body, the knife still jammed into his body. The Ensign ignored him and continued to work on the computer. Erdeniz flipped the button on his pistol that automatically loaded in a ship safe round. The rubber tipped round could easily kill an unarmoured man at this range and there was no possibility it could penetrate the skin of any part of the ship or damage the major circuits or equipment inside. Hearing the noise from the gun Harris turned and looked directly at him. He snarled and then ran at Erdeniz, taking him by surprise.

  “Fuck me!” he cried as he fumbled with the pistol. The man was on him by the time he’d collected his senses and as the two fell backwards he emptied every round from the pistol into the charging man. As they crashed into his desk items flew everywhere and his head smacked hard on the metal frame. This time he didn’t get back up as the blackness closed in on him.

  * * *

  Spartan and Marcus used their thrusters to move towards the access hatch. As they hit the button on their suits, small puffs of gases ejected from the suits’ miniscule exhausts and helped them manoeuvre in precise detail. These were generally used by engineering crews working on the outside of ships but sometimes also by marines when conducting boarding operations or working on the outside of stations in zero-g gravity situations.

  The training area was a massive purpose built environment that used to be a storage compartment for materials and supplies. The total size was similar to a football ground and big enough to conduct detailed combat scenarios in a gravity free situation. The current layout matched the access sections of the Titan Naval Station and contained mock airlocks, shafts and rooms. Their platoon had split into three squads, each of twelve men. They had already taken a number of casualties trying to reach the cover of the structure. The defenders had set up secure firing positions so they could cover access points to the base. Marcus reached out, holding onto the metal railings near the airlock hatch and attached the override mechanism. All the recruits in the other two squads were wearing their standard Personal Defence Suits along with their manoeuvring modules. Spartan and his squad had swapped their gear for the combat engineer rig. These suits were much thicker and bulkier than the usual armour but they were also equipped with heavy-duty hydraulic gear and close range weapons. Spartan moved to the side of the door and slammed the armoured fist like a battering ram into the metal.

  “What are you doing, man, I’m nearly done!” Marcus shouted through the intercom.

  He struck the metal three more times before he had ripped open a hole big enough to use his other fist on. Just a few more pulls and he had torn open a hole that was wide enough to go through.

  “Keep on the door, old man, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve mined it,” he said with a grin.

  Teresa and Marcus followed him inside the shaft and lowered themselves to the side so they could activate their grav boots. These gave them grip on the metal surface but they had to be careful, there were plenty of items they wouldn’t stick to and there was still the lack of gravity to contend with.

  A volley of rubber tipped bullets rushed down the corridor, silent in the vacuum of space. Several of them struck Marcus but the impact failed to register. His heavy cutting tools absorbed the impact.

  “You see what I meant earlier? This suit has three times the protection on the front. Perfect for boarding actions.”

  “Yes, nice, I can see that, Spartan!” Marcus said, he couldn’t stop a little smile escaping.

  The shaft shook and Spartan could see three recruits drifting from one of the other access hatches, a series of sparks and smoke indicating the door had blown out with an improvised charge.

  Teresa banged her
armoured hand against the side of the shaft as he shouted. “Nice work! Looks like it’s just us left then.”

  Jesus entered the shaft and activated his boots, following him were four more recruits, the rest had been picked off on the way in.

  “Damn, we lost four then, trying to get here,” said Spartan to himself. “This is Charlie Squad, anybody from Alpha or Bravo still in action?” he asked over the secure communications channel.

  “Two of us are pinned down near the medical station, rest of my squad is wasted!” came a familiar voice, he was sure it was Burnett.

  “That you, Burnett, who else is with you?”

  There was a pause for a few seconds, “Just me and Matt.”

  Spartan looked at Teresa and Marcus who grinned back at him.

  “Hang in there, stay in cover, we’re coming from the loading airlock. ”

  The heavy suits were slow, much slower than the normal suits, but there was nothing they could do to speed things up. As they reached a few metres from the half-open door ahead two recruits popped their head outs and opened fire. Marcus leaned to the side lowering his left arm to reveal a very quick modification he had done. He’d strapped the three L48 rifles that he, Spartan and Teresa had been issued with to the metal mountings and run a cable inside his suit. He had also fitted the optional small calibre, close assault module and ammunition boxes. It was ridiculous overkill but the result was mightily impressive. He pulled the trigger and the three weapons opened fire with their small calibre rounds.

  It was a surreal sight as the rapid flashes signalled the discharge of the silent weapons. Hundreds of rubber tipped rounds blasted through the shaft and easily hit the recruits as well as another two that were moving in to reinforce them. Even funnier was that the bullets forced the recruits backwards and along the shaft as they lost their grip.

  “Yeah!” Spartan shouted, as he pushed ahead and into the junction room that led to different parts of the station.

  He stomped ahead to the shaft directly ahead. With this route now secure, the four new arrivals each in their normal armour made quick progress into the shafts and proceeded to move in on the enemy command room. By splitting apart the four recruits would be able to strike the target area from four directions. Marcus and Teresa moved up to the flanks of Spartan.

  “I’m receiving complaints from the defenders that some of you are ignoring your hits,” came a voice over the intercom, it was the Drill Sergeant.

  “Bullshit, the front armour on these suits is proof for twenty millimetre anti-tank rounds,” said Spartan abruptly.

  “Indeed, somebody has done their homework, continue,” came the reply.

  “Spartan Unit in position,” Marcus said with a sly smile.

  “Spartan Unit? You kidding?” Teresa laughed.

  Spartan looked at them both, turning his head before looking back at the last door. He spoke quietly. “On the other side of this door is a ten metre shaft that leads directly into the Command Centre. Jesus, give us the word when your team is in position.”

  Jesus was positioned a short distance away and moving to follow the four other recruits. He turned giving a hand signal as he disappeared into one of the small shafts.

  Spartan lifted his armoured arms in front of the suit. Because of the tools and hydraulics, as well as the added armour, it was like a complicated heavy metal shield that could easily protect the wearer from most of the incoming fire. Teresa did the same, pushing the metal in front of them for protection.

  “We’re in position,” came the message from Jesus.

  Spartan nodded, looking at the two standing next to him.

  “Okay, I rip open the door then we push the armour forward. As we distract them, you drop in on the flanks and take them out one at a time. Remember, single shots, keep in cover and take them out. Understood?”

  A chorus of affirmative gave him his answer. Spartan slowly pushed the hatch forward with his hands, knowing the door may be rigged with a charge. He pushed the blades from his hand into the metal wrenching the side of the hatch away. As the door drifted off he was surprised to find no charges set.

  “Bet they left it open for us to walk into,” said Teresa as she looked about for the enemy.

  “Follow me!” Spartan pushed ahead and into the shaft.

  They followed Spartan closely, both looking for signs of trouble. Marcus brought up the rear and ensured they weren’t attacked from behind.

  As soon as they reached the end of the shaft they were in the Command Centre. Literally as soon as Spartan’s foot clunked into place, the room lit up with the muzzle flashes of the dozen surviving recruits. Round after ineffectual round clattered off their armour. Teresa moved up to Spartan’s left and raised her arms, deflecting most of the rounds from her thickly armoured suit.

  “Now!” Spartan shouted.

  It was over almost as soon as it had begun. The hatches in four different places popped open and flashes of movement indicated the rounds blasting the survivors. In just five seconds, the defenders were out of the fight. The avalanche of fire stopped and everything seemed to stop moving.

  “Jesus, take your unit and get Burnett and Matt secured.” Spartan ordered.

  “Affirmative.”

  Back in the Command Centre, the three recruits moved inside, checking for survivors. The so-called killed defenders kept to the sides and out of the way of the exercise. Spartan saw a reflection and made to move his hand when Teresa spotted movement behind them. She moved quickly, looking to place her heavy frontal armour between Spartan and the enemy but she wasn’t fast enough. As the men opened fire though Marcus intercepted them. He was slightly to the side and had been checking one of the hatches. He opened fire with his improvised assault arm that was still fitted with the modified weapons and hit the two attackers with over a hundred rounds.

  A light flashed inside Spartan’s suit, indicating a hit to a valve. A computerised voice spoke, indicating he had suffered a critical hit.

  “Cease fire. End of exercise!” came the order over the intercom. “All recruits report to the briefing room in thirty minutes for debrief, out!”

  “Man, that guy needs to learn to lower his blood pressure!” said Marcus.

  The three looked at each other, only Spartan’s suit failure light flashed.

  “Well, two out of three isn’t bad,” Teresa said.

  The briefing room was packed with the exhausted recruits. The competitors sat together, but apart. It was incredible how one group of people could feel as much friends as they were enemies. That was the price of competition Spartan thought to himself.

  The Drill Sergeant entered the room and marched up in front of them.

  “That was an interesting exercise and I’m pleased to say some of you survived to tell the tale. The defender team suffered one hundred percent casualties. That is thirty-two out of thirty-two killed in action. Before you get excited, only nine survived from the attackers but that is still damned fine odds for this mission.”

  He walked along the line, looking at each of them in turn before stopping.

  “Will the survivors please stand up.”

  Two groups of people stood up, Burnett and Matt at one end and Spartan’s group at the other.

  “Now look here, nine recruits, nine fighters, some of whom probably wanted to slam the others’ heads against the bulkhead managed to achieve a total victory against an enemy that was dug into a superior position. Outstanding!”

  He continued walking along the front of the group, this time paying attention to those standing.

  “What’s your name, marine?” he asked.

  Some of the recruits looked at each other in surprise, it was the first time they had heard him use that word.

  “Teresa Martinez, Sergeant!” The Drill Sergeant extended his hand and shook hers before turning to the rest of the group.

  “This marine performed above and beyond the call. She used initiative, overcame difficulties and even put herself in the line of fire for a
nother marine. I could ask no more of any one of you. Hoorah!” he shouted with a smile.

  The rest of the recruits stood, shouting in congratulation to the survivors and the sense that on that day they had in part, achieved some measure of respect from their Sergeant.

  “You earned yourselves a day’s leave. In twenty-four hours you undergo your final test. Those of you who pass will become a marine. Some of you, if you score highly enough, will even join the commandos. Dismissed!”

  The recruits filed out of the hall and headed in different directions, some to their quarters and others to the two recreation rooms. Unlike previous training activities, this one seemed to have encouraged them to intermingle as the recruits swapped stories on the complex operation they’d just worked through.

  Spartan, Jesus, and Marcus walked down the main corridor towards their usual rec room. As they passed the first set of berths, Teresa appeared at the doorway.

  “Hey, Spartan!”

  He walked up to the door, placing one hand on the bulkhead.

  “Inside!” she shouted with a grin.

  Reaching out she grabbed Spartan and yanked him so he fell through the open door. As he stumbled to the floor she slammed the door shut.

  Marcus looked at Jesus with a look of surprise on his face.