“Welcome to the Tamarisk,” said the Commander. “Before we get started you need to get rid of that habit. As of from now you are a civilian crew on a civilian ship. Until our mission is completed there will be no saluting, mentioning of rank or following of naval protocol. Understood?”
“Sir!” came the unanimous reply.
Commander Anderson just stood there. He said nothing before turning to the stranger to his right. The man was dressed in civilian clothing and wore a light waistcoat that was marked and scruffy.
“This is Johnson, from Kerberos.”
“You’re the Special Agent Admiral Jarvis spoke of?” asked Teresa.
“Not today, just called me Johnson.”
Teresa nodded, the changed protocol on the ship finally starting to sink in.
“Follow me,” said the Commander as he turned and walked back through the doorway. Johnson followed immediately behind. Teresa looked back at the other four marines who smiled nervously, then turned and went through the doorway and into the ship.
* * *
Lieutenant Daniels was first off the assault shuttle. He turned and shook Spartan’s hand before stepping down to the hangar floor.
“Good work again, Sergeant, we’ll meet for a full debriefing in an hour,” he disappeared along with the scores of other people piling out of the other craft.
Spartan was next off and as his feet hit the cold metal he felt a pang of relief to be back aboard the old ship. Several of the craft had already arrived prior to them with the wounded and urgent passengers, which Spartan noted there were many. He stepped to one side and counted in the men from his platoon as they moved in slowly, there were only nineteen. Roughly half of the unit was dead or wounded. Thankfully he noted that the bruised, but implacable Marcus, strolled out and shook his hand.
“Spartan, thought I’d lost you on the way up,” he said happily.
Several marines were carried past on stretchers before Spartan spoke.
“I spoke to Lieutenant Daniels on the extraction. He said the Santa Cruz is joining the rest of the marine units at Kerberos for reinforcement and medical attention.”
“Kerberos? What about the fight on Prime? We can’t just leave the colony.”
“True, but garrison duty and engineering is the job of the ground pounders. Right now we are in no shape for continued combat operations. Have you seen the casualty reports? By all accounts our units should be pulled out of the line for six months or more.”
Tex and Travis, two of the marines that he had spent some time with on Prime, climbed out and joined the little group. Tex was starting to warm to Spartan, though Travis as usual was still quiet. The day before they had landed on Prime, Spartan had been training with the two of them. Being a new arrival to the commandos he hadn’t fitted in very well. It wasn’t helped by the fact that some thought he’d had a lucky break in the fighting on Kronus, seeing as they all had long and distinguished careers in the Marine Corps prior to selection for their elite unit.
“Spartan, that was some crazy ass shit going on down there!” laughed Tex.
Spartan looked at him and smiled. Even in all this blood and trouble he was glad to see the entire ship no longer viewed him as a lucky break. He had proven he had the skill and the drive to be worthy of the commandos. He suspected with the casualties they had sustained and the growing problems throughout the System that his skills would be needed very soon.
“When you’re done I want to see you in the mess, we have things to discuss!” he said before the two men left the hangar.
James O’Reilly was the last man out and Spartan recognised him from the action prior to the storm. As he walked past, Spartan tapped him on the shoulder. The marine looked startled and stared into his eyes before moving on, ignoring everyone.
“That’s not good.”
“Yeah, you can say that again, Marcus, I need to speak with Daniels, we’ve got a few marines here that need some attention. We got hit bloody hard down there, much harder than we should have. I’d really like to know what the hell is going on. Why is there this revolt and who is behind it? No way are those shock troopers a small experiment, they had thousands of them,” said Spartan, his brow tightening.
“I know what you mean. Some of the guys back on the surface reckon it is some kind of a feud between some of the groups that first came out here. Personally I think that’s a crock of shit. Somebody has something to gain out of this, I bet the Zealots, the troopers and the rest of them are all somebody else’s pawns.”
The two left the space in the hangar and made for the airlock that led into the main walkways of the Santa Cruz. As they walked through the large airlock it automatically sealed behind them. It was immediately obvious that things were not looking good. There was a lot of blood on the floor and marine medics were running back and forth as they carried blood packs and supplies.
“Shit, this is bad!” said Marcus.
“Yeah, like I said, this isn’t some simple religious revolt. We’ve got a much bigger problem on our hands,” muttered Spartan.
“Well, no way are we going back into action like this. When can we expect to be reinforced?”
“Who knows? From what I’ve seen they keep sending us in. Maybe somebody will take a look at the figures and realise we aren’t immortal.”
“Speak for yourself,” laughed Marcus, “Come on, I don’t know about you but I need a drink.”
They walked on past the first airlocks and bulkhead doors that led to the sickbay and recreation area. Marcus started to talk before noticing he was on his own. Turning around he saw Spartan reading a message on his datapad.
“What is it?”
Spartan said nothing for a short while longer as he continued reading whatever it was that he was looking at. Marcus became more concerned when he noticed Spartan’s face tense up. He’d already seen that down on the scarred battlefield of New Carlos. Spartan looked up from the pad.
“It’s from Captain Mathews, he wants to see me about Teresa,” he said slowly.
“Teresa? I thought she was still recuperating from her injuries?”
“Yeah, so did I.” Spartan looked about, getting his bearings.
“Hey, where is he?”
“He wants to meet me in his quarters, Marcus, alone.”
The two stood for a moment before Spartan made to move. Marcus grabbed his arm before he could leave.
“Listen, I’ll be waiting in the rec room. You come and see me right away, understood?” he said firmly.
Spartan nodded, saying nothing before rushing off down the corridor.
* * *
General Rivers surveyed the tactical display of Prime in great detail. No matter how the battle was going he always seemed to be at the map, watching the minute detail of the action and contacting the field commanders at regular intervals. As he stood there he looked worried, as though he was waiting for something terrible to happen. He turned around to face the video-link with General Shears on the surface below.
“General Rivers, I understand your concerns. I can confirm that my local forces have now fully secured the colony. As we speak, we are assisting with rebuilding efforts on the main highways and transport links. New Carlos will be back in business in less than six months,” he said dismissively.
“I am well aware of the tactical situation. You have still not answered my questions. Why have you sent all marine forces away from Avagana? The commandos needed to come back of course, they are for specific operations but our other units and specifically the 12th Regiment, have been playing a critical part of defending the colony. Are you sure that Colonial and Confederate Army units are sufficiently equipped and positioned to defend Avagana against any possible attempts to attack it?”
“Of course, and I cannot fail to see the implication that your precious marines are more valuable and more important to the defence of Prime. We of course appreciate the efforts and sacrifices of all Confederate Military forces, including the Navy, Marine Corps and the Ar
my. With the peace talks on going, and no hostile forces in the colony, I see no reason why the marines need to stay here. We still have support from the Army, and I am happy to continue assisting with their use and deployment on Prime. We are better equipped to conduct long term operations here than you are, if we need help we’ll be in touch,” he then signed off.
The entire room was silent. Those who heard the conversation were keeping their heads down, the rest carried on as though none of them had seen anything happening. Nothing could hide the fact that General Rivers was furious. He slammed his fist down onto the table in a rage that grabbed the attention of every crewmember in the CiC.
“That arrogant son of a bitch!” he roared.
Almost simultaneously with his outburst the door to the CiC opened and in walked Admiral Jarvis and her ever-watchful bodyguard.
“General, I see you and our friends on the surface have come to an understanding?” she said with a wicked smile.
The General looked as though he had something to say and then did his best to curb his voice. It was one thing to lose his temper when shouting at the table, quite another to lose his temper in front of the Admiral.
“Something like that. It would appear General Shears is convinced he can maintain and defend Avagana unassisted by the Marine Corps. I am concerned that he is trying to politicise the situation rather than ensuring the region is cleared and kept cleared.”
“I understand exactly, General. Even so, I think it might not be a bad thing for us to regroup away from, what I’m sure you will agree, is a meat grinder of an operation. Confederate Forces are spread thin throughout Proxima and with no sign of reinforcements, I am inclined to try and maintain a flexible reserve in case of any more emergencies. After all, only the marines and the Fleet can respond quickly and strongly in a short period of time. Let General Shears have his moment in the sun, for now we have the big picture to concentrate on and there are a few things that will have to change.”
“Change?” asked the General.
“With us having no contact with Alpha Centauri our chain of command stops in this room. All military forces in this sector need to be assembled and more importantly, an understanding must be reached between the civilian governments of the colonies and our forces. We must work together. It is not a case of us versus them. If we are not careful we could end up doing the job of internal policing, and if that happens we will soon become the enemy rather than the friend of our citizens.”
General Rivers considered her comments for a few seconds. He understood how the military could be transformed from friend to enemy in a matter of days. He also had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that they were damned either way. They could use a heavier hand to protect citizens or they could step back now that a ceasefire had been declared and hope that hostilities wouldn’t recommence.
“I agree with your assessment, Admiral, though I have my reservations about the intentions of the politicians on both Prime and Kerberos. These uprising have substantial technological and financial support. This cannot be coming from grassroots terrorist support mechanisms. I suspect those behind the troubles are much higher up than that.”
He paused as he considered what he had just said, some of which had only just occurred to him. If there was someone, or at least a group behind the troubles, what would they have to gain? Why would they have pulled strings for a ceasefire? He could only assume they needed time to rebuild before attempting further uprisings and coups. He looked back to Admiral Jarvis.
“What are you proposing?”
“Well, as you know the marines have been sent to Kerberos for a period of rebuilding and re-equipping. They are also being sent there so that we can make a statement as the peace talks are ongoing.”
“Yes, nothing implies power more than a battlegroup parked in orbit,” he grinned.
“Quite. There is something else and I know you won’t like it,” she said seriously, “I could do with you being the official representative at the peace talks on Kerberos.”
General Rivers looked at her impassively. His protests were easy to gauge, he was a combat veteran and military leader, not a politician. He fidgeted before replying.
“I’m sure you can work out where my opinions on this matter lie?”
“Indeed. Nonetheless I need a senior commander who is respected by both the military and civilians. Your defence of religious buildings seven years ago will undoubtedly be remembered by the more militant on Kerberos, and perhaps help in the negotiations. I have already checked the details of the talks and there will be representatives from all the colonies and outposts in Proxima, as well as the leaders of the major industries in the sector plus a dozen more from the religious factions and paramilitary groups.”
“Admiral, what exactly are you hoping I will be able to achieve at such a gathering?”
“Well, as for political organisation, they can decide to do whatever they want. Our duty is to protect the Confederacy and to ensure that the legitimacy of the Confederate Armed Forces is adhered to throughout the colonies.”
“What if they attempt concessions to the religious factions, primarily those on Prime?” asked the General.
“That is nothing to do with us. It isn’t the role of the Armed Forces to interfere in the affairs of the colonies, only to act to protect our citizens and the structure of the Confederacy. The Santa Cruz and her escorts are already setting course for Kerberos, I suggest you transfer there. I understand proceedings are due to take place in the next twenty-four hours at Yama. You will have full command of the forces around Kerberos, including the communication and intelligence facilities as well as the marines.”
“I...don’t understand, Admiral. You are staying here and you want me to assume control of our forces at Kerberos? In these circumstances wouldn’t it be better for us to stick together?”
Admiral Jarvis turned her head in disagreement.
“Under normal circumstances I would completely agree with you. However we have multiple problems that cannot be dealt with by moving our forces to Kerberos. Right now I need our troops given full medical aid and reinforcement at Kerberos. Until this is done the entire battlegroup will be a spent force. As an added bonus, by placing the marine transports and escorts in orbit, it will provide a handy reminder to the talks on the surface that the Confederate Fleet is keeping a watchful eye on proceedings.”
“I understand that, Admiral, but you are not planning on joining the Fleet in orbit at Kerberos?” he asked in a confused tone.
Admiral Jarvis adjusted the tactical display to show the ship dispositions in the Proxima System. She pointed to the large gas giant Khimaira that was surrounded by a number of stations and outposts.
“ I will be taking the rest of the Fleet to assemble at the navigation point off Khimaira. As you know we have a naval refuelling and supply outpost there. I am assembling all capital ships and their escorts to assemble. Smaller vessels will maintain their current operations, especially those involved in anti-piracy and installation defence. I have heard rumours of dissent in some of the crews of the squadrons based at Orthrus and Agora. By bringing the Fleet together I can isolate those that are suspect. It is my intention to root out any threats and quickly. My single biggest concern is that small groups might try and split off when they are needed, even worse they might even turn on us.”
The Admiral turned from the display and looked directly at the General, her face impassive, but resolute.
“It is imperative that by the time the talks on Kerberos are over we have the entire Fleet secure, loyal and ready to assist in whatever decision is made. One thing I can promise you is this, the crisis is not over, not by a long shot.”
* * *
Spartan stood outside Captain Mathews’ door and paused before knocking. His heart was pounding as he imagined all kinds of terrible scenarios that could involve Teresa, terrorists, combat or even medical problems. Last time he’d seen her was when she was still in the sickbay after having had
additional surgery to her shoulder. Spartan was familiar with how operations could go wrong and the idea of infections or other complications weighed heavily on his mind. Unable to wait any longer he lifted his hand to knock but the door swung open to reveal the Captain.
“Sergeant, come in,” he said as he beckoned inside his quarters.
Spartan stepped inside but couldn’t contain himself.
“Is she alright?”
The Captain shut the door and turned to face him. “She’s fine. Please sit, we need to talk.”
The room was a modest affair but much better than the quarters the enlisted men had to use. There were three chairs to one side and a bunk running along the far wall. The Captain indicated a chair to Spartan before sitting down himself. Spartan sat down, at least partially placated that nothing terrible had happened.
“I didn’t realise that you and Private Morato were so close,” he said as he watched Spartan.
“We’ve become good friends since well before Kronus, Sir. Last I heard she was still recovering from her wounds. Where is she?”
“Okay, that is the question isn’t it? First of all, her recovery is going well. She isn’t fully healed but is certainly well enough to return to non-combat based duties. I’m afraid that she isn’t on board the ship though.”
“Where is she?” demanded Spartan, now starting to feel a little agitated.
“As I said, she is okay. She has joined a reconnaissance patrol and will be back in about a week. It is a routine op but I’m sure you appreciate that for reasons of OPSEC I cannot go any further. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not privy to the information either. I know you want you know more but that’s all I can offer.”
Tears of Kerberos Page 13
