“CES units, on my mark you will advance to the enemy, everybody else keep your heads down!”
Two of the units turned to look towards the Lieutenant, surprised at the order to advance in such adverse conditions. Both of them were splattered with blood and scratches ran along the sides of the armour. Lieutenant Daniels suit was painted differently to the rest and distinctively marked with tiger strikes on the lower body. The defending marines kept up a withering fire on the enemy but it was clear a change of tactics was in order. Small groups of the units emerged from what little cover they had found and moved towards open ground. As they prepared for the attack plinks of small arms fire bounced off their thick armour.
“Watch for friendlies out there!” shouted Spartan as he surveyed the assembled platoon.
They looked impressive, each machine a great lump of hardened metal. The battle had already taken its toll and of the entire platoon, only twenty-nine of the armoured suits were still operational. The rest were either destroyed or immobilised.
“Follow me!”
Spartan jumped down from the piled up debris and onto the rough open ground that separated the two sides. As he moved ahead the rest of the ragged line of machines went forward as fast as they could. More rockets and bullets blasted past and a freak missile destroyed at least one unit. Continuing on they fired long bursts to keep the enemies’ heads down. Incredibly they made it across the open space with no casualties, although all the suits had sustained a level of damage. Spartan and Daniels hit the enemy front line almost simultaneously. With frenzied savagery they smashed and hacked their way through the shock troops and Zealots alike. As the rest of the platoon arrived it became clear that this was the perfect battleground for the armour. The shouts and screams from both sides were drowned out by grenades and the fire of weapons.
The battle to hold New Carlos was well under way.
CHAPTER THREE
Prometheus was the most unusual and certainly the most dangerous planet in the entire Confederacy. Being the closest planet to the sun it was uninhabitable and no attempts were ever made to sustain life. It was however a rich and valuable source of iron and heavily mined for its resources. Reinforced and shielded ships ploughed their way to the planet and through the Proxima System carrying their wares. What made Prometheus even more deadly though were the terrible storms that forced vessels to take an indirect approach to the fiery world. Risking the storms was tantamount to suicide.
Birth of Prometheus
It was almost midnight on Kerberos yet the lights from the buildings still cast a dull glow across the street and over the nearest buildings. It was a wide road with good access for the many large vehicles that ploughed their way around the colony with their raw materials and goods. At this time of night, when the air became cooler, it could become difficult to breathe. Special Agent Johnson pulled a small cylinder from his pocket and inhaled a mouthful of oxygen. He tried to keep it to a minimum but after all this time waiting outside he was starting to feel the strain. He had been assigned a colonial ATU team for protection and he was acutely aware they were getting tired waiting for something to happen. Normally he would have made use of local police units but this was part of a large operation spread across the city. Officially he worked for Yama’s Special Crimes Division but was in fact an agent for the Confederacy’s top-secret Naval Intelligence Department. He had been contacted directly by Admiral Jarvis with special orders from Naval Intelligence to keep this operation secret. It had never happened before and therefore told Johnson that this raid was much bigger than anybody realised. He’d left the headquarters two hours ago along with three other teams on similar operations.
Kerberos was becoming a troublesome place with so many companies, organisations, unions and religions all vying for power to the detriment of each other. Even the team he was assigned with had the feel of a group that might just as easily stab him in the back rather than help him. The Confederacy was very important to Johnson. It provided him with a career and a purpose in a troubled part of the colony. Though he kept hearing negative press about the organisation, all he had seen were people trying to help and keep the people safe and secure. Something very big and very important was going on tonight and Johnson was determined he would find out what it was.
One of the street lights flickered and he pulled back into the shadows to keep out of sight. The three other ATU agents with him were each trying to be as discreet as possible. Johnson lowered the night vision on his helmet so he could monitor the movement of their suspects as they moved down the street. The intelligence from their contact said that a new terrorist cell was expected to meet one of the many industrialists on the planet with links to the Zealots. If true it could indicate a growing alliance between important figures on Kerberos and the religious insurgents throughout the Confederacy. The industrialist was already in the club and being watched by their contact, though he was disappointed to find they had no audio or visual feeds into the building.
“Suspect is using his comms gear,” came the voice of his contact on the inside.
“Understood,” said Johnson quietly.
The team had been waiting for over an hour for this meeting to take place. With the trouble on Prime threatening to travel off-world the success of their mission was even more critical. Johnson was busy thinking about the many different permutations of what was going on when a small black car arrived. It was unmarked and as it stopped outside the building another pulled up behind it. Johnson whispered into his headset.
“Wait, all units hold position.”
The door opened and out stepped four men in black suits. They looked like the usual thugs the criminal groups in the city used, but they could equally be legitimate bodyguards for an important dignitary. Three more men exited the second vehicle, each one looked just the same as the previous four. The group spread out, two stayed with the car and the other five moved out to key areas on the street.
“Crap!” muttered Johnson to himself.
As the men fanned out another two people emerged from the second car, one was a man in a light grey business suit, the second a woman wearing an evening dress. The two walked the short distance from the car to the entrance of the bar and went inside.
“Sir, message from Fleet for you,” said one of the men as he handed over his communication link.
Johnson lifted the headpiece and tapped the decrypt key on the handset. A series of tones came down the line as the connection was authenticated from his headquarters in the city.
“Special Agent Johnson, this is a recorded message from Admiral Jarvis. Intelligence obtained from the Titan Naval Station indicates several cells on Kerberos. We suspect possible planetary government collusion. I have attached identity ciphers for cleared personnel. Do not share the intelligence you discover on your operation with anyone outside of this circle. Report back to me when you have news, good luck,” the voice crackled and then repeated the message.
Johnson looked down at the communication unit and the identity keys it displayed. He pulled out his field datapad, a smaller device than the standard models used in offices, copying the data over. As soon as it completed the recorded message and data associated with it, it was automatically deleted. He removed the headset and handed it back to the security officer.
“Are we going in?” asked one of the officers.
Johnson lifted his hand to signal for them not to move before speaking quietly over the radio system.
“No, we don’t move till we get the word from our contact inside,” he said firmly before turning back to the surveillance of the building.
“Nobody moves until I give the word!”
* * *
The great hulk of the CCS Crusader pushed on into orbit around Kerberos. Some of her weapon systems were now functional but switched off to conserve power. The last attempt to activate them had shorted out two decks and triggered a series of blasts that took four hours to contain. Most of the bridge staff was helping engineering se
ctions throughout the vessel as they tried to keep the almost crippled vessel in one piece.
On the bridge of the ship Commander Anderson stared out through the virtual windows to survey the planet below. Kerberos was an odd place, a mix of industry, crime and religion. It should have been the perfect place, but money and greed had corrupted the planet more quickly than any had ever expected. It was still a mighty workshop capable of producing anything from computers to starship engines. A small group of gunboats rushed past as they made their way to an unknown objective. He noticed the weapons covering the small craft. They were mighty and just one could cause a real problem to even a warship if given the chance.
Lieutenant Nilsson slammed her hand onto her communication terminal before realising the rest of the command staff was watching her. Lieutenant Carver, the ship’s navigator, turned around to see what the noise was before returning to his duties. She sat up straight with a sheepish looking expression on her face. Commander Anderson was busy checking the battle reports from Prime when he heard the fuss.
“Problem, Lieutenant?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
The officer turned around to face him but she still looked confused.
“While the brute force tools are working, I’ve been checking on the source of the transmission and also tracked its movement. From the logs the signal did hit us first, but was switched off and then re-activated thirty seconds after we passed.”
“So? Maybe they had more data to send?” answered the Commander.
“Maybe. Here’s the weird thing though, Sir. If they intended on continuing communication with our ship, why didn’t they maintain their target lock with us? I’ve checked and they didn’t redirect their transmission to follow our trajectory.”
“It didn’t move to track us? Are you positive?”
“Sir, I have tracked the path of the signal and, based on the time of transmission and our course, it is certain they were continuing to transmit at the exact same location.”
A few metres away Lieutenant Carver moved several objects on his plotting display. He was busy tracking orbiting objects, ensuring their course wouldn’t be interfered with by any debris or unexpected objects. Even though Kerberos was a well establish colony there was always the chance of drifting space junk, discarded satellites, fuel containers or even freak meteors that could spell disaster for any kind of vessel. He had served alongside the Commander in their operations out on the Rim and he had a reputation as an outstanding mathematician. Commander Anderson walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned in surprise.
“Commander, sorry, Sir, I didn’t see you there.”
The Commander pushed his datapad in front of him and showed the path of the signal that led from Kerberos. “Lieutenant, plot me a destination point for the signal, using the time and reference point from this data.”
“Sir.” The Lieutenant transferred the data from the datapad to his screen. As he moved the information on the screen he scrunched up his face as though something was confusing him. “You know this signal is sending bursts of encoded traffic to a point in the Rim?”
“No, Lieutenant, that is why I asked you to check,” answered Anderson sternly.
“Sorry, Sir. I’m calculating the exact trajectory now.”
There was a short pause as he checked the ship’s navigation system against the latest mapping details. On the screen he displayed a two dimensional chart with the planet of Kerberos on the left and the beam rushing off to the right. First it moved through where their ship had been, then it continued out of the planet’s orbit and out further into the System.
“Apart from us it is aimed at nothing else in orbit. Tracking it further through the system...” he said, as the beam kept moving.
The chart zoomed out as the beam moved further and further until the millions of bodies in the Rim appeared. The beam entered the outer section of the Rim and stopped.
“The Rim?” he asked to himself.
“Makes sense, Commander,” said Lieutenant Nilsson who was watching from her screen.
“Thank you, Carver, as you were.” The Commander turned and walked back to Lieutenant Nilsson, who was checking her own data on the Rim. Once the Commander was close enough she spoke quietly.
“The signal must have been intended for somebody or some group in the Rim.”
“But who? The Rim isn’t fully charted. It’s a mixture of asteroids, mining stations, refineries and space stations. Is there any way of getting a more precise location from the source of the signal?”
“No, Sir, the best I can manage is the Alpha Three segment of the Rim, but that still includes over three thousand space bodies. It could even be a ship out there,” she said.
“Maybe the signal is routine?”
“Routine with a narrow band encoded transmission? I don’t think so, Sir. The only people with the equipment for that kind of long range transmission is the Confed Navy or one of the main government departments on Kerberos. If it was military traffic, it would be sealed with the standard ciphers so that only our own command staff could access it. I think it much more likely it was sent by someone else. It can’t be a coincidence that the encoding is much stronger than used for civilian traffic, yet is not using military ciphers. My opinion is that this is either important military data to somebody that doesn’t want to be found or, more likely that somebody on Kerberos is communicating with a group out on the Rim and they don’t want anybody else knowing about it.”
Commander Anderson checked the log as he examined the route taken by the beamed transmission. He was all too familiar with the Rim and the complexity of finding even a base or ship, let alone an individual person. It was known through the Proxima System that if you wanted to disappear or renege on a deal you would hide out in the Rim, as you would never be found. The downside was that it was crawling with unsavoury characters that were usually best avoided. Until he had more information it would be useless trying to investigate this further.
“Okay, good work, Lieutenant. Let me know when you have more data on the decryption. Keep this between us.”
As Lieutenant Nilsson continued her work on the encrypted data packet the damaged vessel continued its plodding course to the shipyards over Kerberos.
* * *
The light flashed on Johnson’s communicator, it was the signal that the target was in position. He took a deep breath and then gave the hand signal to move in. At first nothing happened, it was as if none of the men were ready, but in fact it was the adrenalin kicking in and slowing the burst of activity. His unit fanned out as the spotters and their snipers took out the guards in the street with tranquiliser slugs. The shots were accurate and in less than two seconds the street was clear and the entry team rushed across the street. Johnson was second at the door waiting to the side as two armoured ATU men moved into assault positions. With a flicker the fanned-out metal shields extended from their armour to provide additional protection. They stepped a small distance apart to give the third man space to wield his ram. It was a heavy tool and contained a built in pneumatic pump that could smash through almost any door. With a low thump it smashed the exterior door from its hinges and the way was clear.
“Go, go, go!” shouted Johnson.
The two at the front went in quickly, each carrying a thermal shotgun at the ready. The orders were to avoid hostilities if possible, but in these situations it could easily turn violent. These weapons were deadly at close range but wouldn’t break through the outer walls and possibly injure innocent bystanders. Johnson followed closely behind them with his pistol drawn and at the ready. The hallway was dark, the only lighting from red strip lights running along the ceiling. A loud throbbing beat from the sound system made normal discussion almost impossible. As they reached the end of the hallway they came to the door that led to the staircase. It went up to the second floor and into the main dance floor and club. Sat in a kiosk to the right was a scantily clad woman, presumably there to take cash from the patrons. Sh
e grabbed something from the wooden unit to her side and swung it around at the ATU officers. The first managed to dodge out of the way but the second took a direct blast from the firearm. Johnson jumped to grab her arm. With a hard pull he smashed her hand on the unit and the pistol dropped to the floor. More ATU officers arrived and one of them secured her with manacles escorting her out of the building.
Johnson checked his map on his small datapad. According to the data sent by his contact the suspect was thirty metres across the dance floor, sat at a round table and flanked by two guards. He nodded to his men and without waiting they went up the staircase and towards the wide glass entrance leading into the dance hall. As they reached the last few steps Johnson pulled out his pistol.
“Non-lethal,” he whispered over the radio system.
The two armoured officers checked their weapons were set to the low power settings before indicating they were ready.
From the glass doorways they could see the lights moving about but it was impossible to see what else was happening.
“Go!” said Johnson.
The first officer pushed the door slightly open and then tossed a stun grenade inside. As soon as it reached the centre of the room it flashed. The pulse was strong and would incapacitate anybody in the room. Without waiting the three were inside the dance hall, but it was quickly obvious something was very wrong. There were no dancers and the only people in the room were already on the floor, face down as though they had been told to get down. Johnson ran to the table to find his contact slumped across the table with his datapad smashed on the ground.
“Shit!”
The rest of the team moved in and secured the area, each checking for signs of the suspect.
Tears of Kerberos Page 5
