Tears of Kerberos

by Michael G. Thomas

  “There have been rumours for some time in certain circles that something is going on between the mega corporations on Kerberos and the left-wing religious faction and their militant off-shoots.”

  “Interesting. We have already received an encoded narrowband transmission from the surface, we are in the process of accessing the data now,” he said.

  “ I doubt that will be my contact on Kerberos, he’s not due to commence his operation for at least another hour. Who else knows about the signal?” she asked quickly.

  “Just myself and Lieutenant Nilsson.”

  There was an audible sigh from the Admiral before she continued.

  “Good, make sure it stays that way. The situation here is very delicate, as is the intelligence operation on Kerberos. When you have the data contact me, I need to know how far this goes and what contacts the groups on Kerberos have made. Good luck, Commander, we will speak soon.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” he said as he replaced the headset and turned back to the Lieutenant.

  * * *

  The ride through the lower atmosphere of Prime was rough and Spartan was forced to grip the thick metal handrails, as the clamps holding up his suit didn’t seem to be doing the job. One of the other CES suits had already broken loose and crushed the arm of one of the marines waiting patiently for the landing to commence. His shouting had echoed through the pressurised interior of the landing craft. It did little to help ease the tension that always preceded an operation like this one. Unlike travelling through space, the friction of the lower atmosphere was thick and created massive amounts of heat along the body of their landing craft. These parts of the flight were always dangerous, as any weakness in the skins of the craft could let in the heat and destroy the craft in an instant. That, plus the knowledge of the battle waiting ahead, was the ultimate sobering thought for Spartan. A final shudder came from the craft as it settled into a lower speed and more conformable flight.

  Though Spartan had been in the Marine Corps for less than a year he had seen two combat drops already. One had been a contested landing on the moon of Kronus, the home of the now infamous Titan Naval Station. His second operation had been a much smaller one, though ultimately more dangerous action in space. He, along with a small unit of marines, had boarded a craft escaping from the burning hulk of CCS Victorious. On both occasions he had seen many good marines die and that had been just a few days earlier. He had expected to find some action in the Corps but nothing had led him to believe he would be facing three operations in less than five days!

  “I’m gonna need a damned vacation!” he muttered to himself.

  A crackle followed by a high-pitched whine indicated an impending announcement. That or the equipment had just malfunctioned.

  “Marines, we hit the ground in four minutes. Hold on, we’re going in hot,” came the voice of the pilot.

  On the wall behind the cockpit was a video display with maps and communication feeds to the units already in action. It had been switched off during the rough trip through the atmosphere, as the signal was unusable during re-entry.

  “Man, can you see that shit?” Marcus was examining the moving map.

  Spartan looked closely. It showed the outer perimeter and about a hundred people fighting in a series of ruined buildings. Blasts from charges and grenades flickered along the line but the greater numbers of shock troops were starting to break through. At two points in the line breaches had been made.

  “They aren’t going to last long against that,” said Spartan.

  The screen flashed and was replaced with the face of Lieutenant Daniels, the leader of the platoon. He was sat up front with the pilots in the most heavily armoured section of the craft.

  “Marines, you’re about to land in the most violent warzone I have seen in my military career. I have also received word of trouble spreading through the other colonies on Prime. New Carlos is the largest city on the planet and the most important inhabited region in this entire System. It is imperative that you clear the outer markers so the engineer teams can establish a firm perimeter. This is a tough assignment. That is why we’ve been chosen. Stand strong and listen to your platoon commanders. Watch your comrades and remember your training. Good luck!”

  The message flickered and then cut back to the map.

  “Another message from our fearless leader!” said one of the marines as he banged his rifle magazine on his head.

  “Sixty seconds!” the pilot shouted.

  A hiss spread through the craft as the vessel depressurised. Although the marines were all wearing fully enclosed suits, the craft were always pressurised to provide full protection for the crew and passengers in case of any equipment or armour faults during space operations. It was also common for the craft to carry unarmoured passengers, especially when used for medical evacuation or transport missions. The system was fast and in just seconds the indicator on Spartan’s suit confirmed the status of the vessel. The metal shutters clunked open a few centimetres, giving each of the marines their first view of the warzone. As the shutters moved into position the escape hatches and access ramps disarmed, ready for landing under fire. The last thing the marines needed was to be trapped on board stuck in a firefight.

  On both sides of the craft were great clouds of black smoke from the many fires spread around the countryside and outskirts of the city. On the sides of the landing craft were door guns, each one a large calibre projectile weapon capable of shredding a man. They were used to fend off light aircraft or to provide ground support during a landing. Spartan had used one in the low gravity ground conflict on the Naval Station and had experienced the devastating firepower of the weapons firsthand. With their speed reducing, the gunners moved to their exposed positions along the sides of the craft. The weapons unlocked from their secure, armoured lockers where they were kept safe during re-entry.

  Jackson looked up to Spartan who was busy checking the settings in his suit.

  “You ready, man?”

  “Hell, yeah!” he said with a grimace.

  “Is Daniels coming down with us or is he staying with the ship?” Marcus asked.

  As if to answer the question the figure of the Lieutenant appeared. He wasn’t wearing any armour and for a moment Spartan and Marcus were confused. Then the Lieutenant turned and pulled himself inside his CES armour. Two of the marines helped seal him in.

  “Hell, do you think he could have left it a bit later?”

  “Maybe he was hoping to stay with the boat, Marcus?” said one of the marines who had been listening to the side.

  “Hey, I’ve served with the Lieutenant, I’ve seen him in action and I know where his loyalties lie. Now button it, Marine!” growled Spartan.

  He turned away from the annoyed marine and looked down at his tactical display. It showed the health and positions of the entire platoon, as well as links to the other marine units in the air and on the ground. He tapped a button and most of the data vanished to show his own platoon and the dangers in their immediate area. The last thing he needed was an information overload in a hostile area.

  A great roar rushed from the vessel’s engines as they reversed thrust to slow their descent at the very last minute. It was comparable to the kick felt when an aircraft reversed its thrusters when landing.

  “Ten seconds!”

  The door gunners were already engaging targets but from where Spartan stood he had no idea what they were firing at. The clatter of weapon fire hit the hull of the craft like rain but none of the rounds penetrated, they must have been rifles and pistol ammunition. That was a good start.

  They must have hit the ground hard as the seal on the right of the boat holding him upright snapped clean off. It took a superhuman effort on his part not to smash against the bulkhead. As he straightened up, the side door dropped down with a heavy thud and the unit was instantly exposed to the ongoing battle. Without pausing he flicked the seal switch to release his suit and then bounded for the door. The suit was frustratingly slow,
no quicker than a man moving at a jogging pace. He went through the doorway and jumped the two-metre drop to the ground scanning the perimeter as he landed. In front were the ruined residential zones that ran out from the outskirts of the city. Most of the buildings were only a few storeys tall but a few were much bigger. A concrete flyover ran from one side to the other, he couldn’t see any traffic on it.

  Already there were scores of fighters, some marines, some army and many more were volunteers from the city. Most were firing from the windows of buildings, others looked to be running back into the city. A loud noise came from behind and Spartan turned to see his landing craft lift up and then blasted off away from the battlefield. As it moved away the full scale of the battle was revealed to him. Scores of buildings had been demolished. Amongst the rubble dozens of marines were fighting a desperate battle against a great horde of the enemy shock troopers. Mixed in with the bio-engineered soldiers were a number of militia and Zealot fighters. The Zealots were in much smaller numbers than Spartan had expected. Even so, with these enemy numbers he was amazed the defenders had lasted so long.

  “Frontline is collapsing, all commando units move to the perimeter and stabilise the line!” came the order.

  “First platoon follow me!” Spartan shouted over his radio unit.

  The armoured units from his craft moved into a loose line next to him as more arrived into the thick of the action from the other landing craft. But in less than twenty seconds he had enough to start his counterattack. Each of the CES units looked like an armoured monster, bristling with armoured plates, hydraulics and weapons. Spartan moved as quickly as the suit would allow him towards the brutal battle ahead. With the first two-dozen CES units were two platoons of lighter armoured commandos who spread out firing their L48 rifles at any targets they found. The precise rifle fire flicked along the line, as each shot picked off the enemy units one at a time. The commandos with the assault variants of the L48 provided suppressing fire as the rest moved forward. Spartan reached the rubble first to find three marines fighting one of the shock troopers. One was missing an arm and the other two were desperately stabbing away at the thing with their bayoneted rifles. He pushed past them and slammed his hydraulically powered arm hard into the creature’s chest. The strength of the suit was impressive. With one move the creature was knocked back several metres where it crashed into four more of them. As he lifted his right arm he faced them and held down the trigger. Normally the recoil from the L48 rifles would be heavy, but with the weapons mounted directly onto the suit’s chassis the unit absorbed the bulk of the recoil. Both weapons fired together bathing the enemy in scores of small but deadly flechette rounds. The creatures were instantly shredded, but many more were moving in to attack.

  In the distance Spartan could see the cracks and holes in the ground where the creatures were coming from. It was easy to see why the Air Force had botched up the defence of this segment of the city. By staying underground, the enemy had avoided the bombs and emerged right inside the perimeter of the city. They must have been planning this for months. He turned to the left and then the right, calculating their numbers to be at least two hundred with more still climbing out from the rubble. The rest of the CES units had followed his example. They crashed hard into the enemy line where they had blunted the assault. Great streaks of flame poured from the weapons as they did as much damage as they could as quickly as possible. The lighter armed commandos moved forward and took up positions in the rubble.

  Something grabbed at his left leg and as Spartan looked down he saw Lieutenant Daniels approaching. He kicked a creature away before tearing it apart with his linked rifles. Scores of the creatures rushed forward as more continued to crawl out from the rubble. Spartan spotted one trying to get past him and slammed the cutting blade on his left arm into the thing’s head. It was neatly slashed off, the body slid down in a mushy mound of gore.

  “You okay, Sergeant?” asked Lieutenant Daniels.

  Another two creatures leapt at Spartan. Just as they reached within inches of his suit, he pulled the trigger and blasted both of them to shreds of flesh.

  “All good here, Sir,” Spartan replied as the smoke flittered away.

  Fire from a hundred metres away started to hit their positions. One round struck Spartan’s visor, jolting him back. As the fire continued most of the commandos and the original defenders dragged themselves behind any cover they could find. Spartan examined the enemy positions ahead and quickly found the dozens of enemy troops firing their weapons. Around these fighters were scores of the shock troops, each one staying low to the ground as the small arms battle continued. One of the troopers stood up and waved something in the air. Spartan tried to get a better view on his display when he saw a smoke trail rushing through the air.

  “Get down!” he shouted on the radio.

  He looked around but the size of his suit prevented him from doing any more than just lowering himself. The missile struck one of the CES units further down the line and impacted in the centre of its torso. With a great flash the unit exploded, probably aided by the large amounts of ammunition fitted on its back. The explosion and shockwave hit those nearest to it as the smouldering wreckage crashed to the ground.

  “Here they come!” Marcus shouted.

  From the craters and gaps in the ground a great horde of the enemy climbed up and rushed en masse towards the loose defensive line the marines had established. The charging mass continued to fire their weapons, as they moved more rockets and missiles blasted the line to strike the defenders. The power of the L48 rifles was impressive and each large calibre round stopped a man in his tracks. With the special ammunition they were capable of armour piercing or exploding at set distances. Flashes and bursts ripped from the line as their gunfire did its work.

  Spartan locked his armoured feet firmly on the ground, lifted his cutting blade and proceeded to add his own fire to the battle. He was aware of the strengths and limits to the suit but right now he could operate as a stable, armoured fighting platform. Aiming carefully he fired short bursts, each one knocked back two or three hostiles. Some of the enemy had actually made it to the line and he could see several marines stabbing back at them with bayonets as they continued to fire. He fired a long burst along their front line but they kept coming. Two creatures leapt through the air towards him as more appeared at a ruined building to the right. He slashed at the first one and its mutilated body crashed into his armoured head, knocking him backwards. The second one landed on his weapon arm and started to hack at him with a hardened metal weapon that looked like an axe. The impact forced him back and with a grinding screech he collapsed to the floor. As he hit the ground he flailed out with his arms and legs, desperately trying to keep them off him. Five marines rushed over and added their own fire to the action and managed to clear them off Spartan before his suit was torn open. He rolled over and lifted himself up to see the enemy were falling back to cover.

  “All unit commanders report in,” came the voice on the comms network again.

  The audio channels were filled with chatter as each company and platoon commander reported their current status. Spartan noticed that over half the units had been hit hard in that first assault.

  “Sergeant, we lost five CES units in that attack. At this rate we’ll be out of marines in less than thirty minutes,” said Lieutenant Daniels over the secure line.

  Spartan was about to reply when an urgent message came in from the monitoring ships in orbit.

  “This is General Rivers. We’re picking up comms traffic that New Georgia is sending forces to help liberate Carlos from our forces. The other five colonies are still debating but it looks like Avagana is on its own for now. We’re sending five companies of reinforcements to the Southern perimeter, ETA forty minutes.”

  “Lieutenant Daniels here, we need immediate air support, Sir, the front line is fracturing and casualties are heavy!”

  “I know, we’re monitoring the action from here. They are throwing ev
erything they have in the South. If you can hold until relieved we will have a chance. I’ll have ground support with you in less than ten minutes, good luck, Marines,” he said as the radio unit clicked off.

  Bullets and missiles continued to pound the line but for now it looked like the enemy were content to pour fire into the defenders, rather than risk another full frontal attack. Though it looked less decisive their greater numbers were slowly taking their toll with the sheer weight of bullets.

  “Sir, we have to get out of this fire, we’re getting creamed!” Marcus shouted.

  Spartan looked around their position, instantly spotting the many dead commandos and a number of the CES units burning or heavily damaged. Another missile streaked across the battlefield and slammed into the arm of a unit, the blast tearing it off but leaving the unit still standing and operational.

  “Maybe the suits weren’t such a great idea, they’re sitting ducks!” said Daniels bitterly.

  “You’re both right,” said Spartan as he quickly assessed the situation. “If we stay here we die. These suits are designed for close-up work, in this kind of firefight we’re not going to last long.”

  “I take it you have a suggestion, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, Sir. I suggest the commandos stay here and provide covering fire, the CES units should advance and assault their positions.”

  “Assault their positions? You mean a full frontal attack against greater numbers?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, he’s right. We’ll be much safer the closer we are to them,” Marcus said.

  The Lieutenant considered Spartan’s proposal, though he knew in his heart that their options were limited. Either they stayed on the line until there was only a handful left, they retreated or they moved forward. If they stayed the enemy would assault them again when their numbers were lowered sufficiently.

  “Okay, let’s do this!” Daniels said as he checked along the line. He wasn’t completely sure it would work but any action was better than waiting to die. He called his units on the tactical net.