Fall of Terra Nova Page 13

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  The man looked at her for a few more seconds and then reached out and grabbed the metal bolt. He grasped it firmly and ripped it from her flesh. She stumbled forward in front of him but managed to steady herself, even though the shock of the injury had almost caused her to faint. He then turned to the Biomech next to him. He nodded, and in a flash of speed and power, the creature struck her in the side of the head. She dropped to the ground as if dead.

  “You know her?” asked another of the robed warriors.

  “No, but she’s on our list. Look,” he said as he lifted a battered and only partially functioning military datapad.

  “She is one of their data experts. Typhon will be pleased.”

  “Yes, he will be,” replied the man.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The mechanical mules of the Confederate Marine Corps are one of many robotic warriors used since the Great War. Four legged and equipped with autonomous reasoning, independent power system and advanced weapons, they were the first capable military robots. Though used as a fire support unit, there were many that feared the day they might be used as an alternative to the living.

  History of Slave Labour

  The space battle along the trade route to Prometheus had begun. The small fleet of Confederate transports and their escorts circled amongst the enemy ships like a swarm of World War 1 fighters. Each vessel manoeuvred to fire its guns at the optimum position, and streaks of gunfire ripped through the cold vacuum of space to tear chunks of metal from each craft. The larger craft attempted to concentrate on the capital ships, and the smaller ships and fighters did their best to avoid the big guns. Tracking speed and optimum firing distance were serious issues for the primary weapons, and each pilot did their best to avoid damage.

  “Look,” said the pilot as he pointed over to the group of transports. “The heavy transports must be their main target.”

  “Makes sense, there are at least three assault landing craft attached to the hull of each ship. If it were me, I would eliminate the crew and take control of the ship,” said the co-pilot.

  Spartan stood behind them and leaned inside the small cockpit. He watched the view through the projected windscreen.

  “Why bother to secure the ships? The longer they wait, the more time they give us to bring in reinforcements. This looks like a hit and run attack to me. We need to be fast,” he said seriously.

  “I think you’re right. The last mayday we received indicated the force was led by a single heavily armed capital ship. The details matched the vessel used by Typhon during the battle of Euryale, well, apart from one thing.”

  “Which is?” asked Spartan.

  “This ship has a dark red paint scheme. It is all over the ship, and we’ve seen nothing like it before. Our sensors cannot penetrate the surface, so it could be a reflective material or maybe an energy absorbent device.”

  “Like a stealth covering of some kind?”

  “We’ve used similar technology on vessels before. The trouble is, in space it is very, very hard to mask a thermal signature. Against the coldness of space, even a slightly warm object is easy to detect.”

  “What about electronic jamming? Could this be to stop our sensors penetrating their hulls?” he continued.

  “I doubt it. I’m already picking up a number of readings from them.”

  A streak of projectiles blasted past just metres away from the shuttle, and something crashed against the hull.

  “Incoming fire! Brace for impact!” shouted the pilot.

  Inside his thickly armoured Vanguard suit, Spartan could still feel the impact as the vessel fired its retro-boosters to blast away from incoming fire. He breathed hard, instantly noticing the change in g-forces. It was as if he was inside an accelerating rocket blasting up through the atmosphere. Thankfully, the built-in pressure suit system was able to take most of the strain out of his body, but it was still violent.

  “Hey, look at that!” said one of his marines pointing to the left of the shuttle.

  Spartan twisted his head but still couldn’t see from where he waited. He tapped a button that brought up the video feeds on the outside of the shuttle. Inside his suit, a number of small images popped up from each camera unit. A glance from his retina was all it took to select one and to enlarge it on the display unit. He could barely make out the dark hulk of the Confederate transport they approached, but that was not what the marine had been pointing at. He moved his eye over to another image, and it quickly changed to the new feed.

  The starboard mounted camera clearly showed a formation of enemy frigates. They looked just like the still images that had been spread through the fleet. The weekly bulletins were issued to all personnel with such items as wanted terrorists, security breach issues or known enemy vessels. One of the most colourful bulletins had been concerning a Zealot fighter, turned pirate, who prowled the Rim. As Spartan examined the enemy vessels, he instantly recognised them as the new frigate designs used by the Union. He watched a small group split off and advanced on one of Confederate light cruisers. Lines of yellow dots indicated a great volley of defensive gunfire, but it seemed to be having little effect on the enemy. Part of the cruiser’s hull glowed dark red, and then with a flash a large section of the vessel exploded.

  “What the hell is that?” cried the man.

  “Particle weapons. We heard about them being used at Euryale. They are direct energy weapons that explode the target on impact.”

  “Particle weapons? How do we defend against that?”

  Spartan looked to the small group of Jötnar. Each was wearing light armour and carried close quarter weapons and heavy firearms. Khan was stood with them, and his great paws grasped the metal railings as the shuttle buffeted about.

  “Intel says it has a slow rate of fire due to the power requirements. Our heavy ships take damage when they try and get close, and her armour is too thick. She is vulnerable to small vessels though.”

  Khan nodded in agreement.

  “Plan?” he asked.

  Spartan looked back at his tactical map projected inside his armoured suit’s display.

  “My plan is pretty simple. We swamp them with assault craft and take them by force. One ship at a time.”

  “Boarding action?” asked another of the Vanguard marines from the 1st Squad.

  “Yes!” roared Khan.

  Spartan smiled to himself. The Jötnar looked to his comrades, and they spoke excitedly at the prospect of a full frontal assault on one of the craft. The Jötnar never seemed happier than when given the opportunity to launch a deadly assault.

  “Not yet though. Right now, we need to secure the transport.”

  He turned back to the viewscreen to spot two shuttles crashing into the landing area of one of the frigates. Streams of tracer fire from defence turrets blasted near three shuttles, but they were too late. The Confederate troops were already there.

  “Look, marines from the Santa Cruz are already hitting them.”

  “Come on...our turn!” growled Khan.

  “Patience, you’ll get your share, I promise,” said Spartan as carefully as he could.

  He watched from one of the viewscreens as the powerful searchlight lit the side of its hull. The occasional flash from the enemy ships illuminated sections of the transport with their gunfire, but there appeared to be no signs of life. Their small group of assault shuttles tore past the transport and rotated, so that the crew could take a good look at her exterior. The video screen in his suit allowed Spartan to examine the transport, and it was clear to him the ship was dead in the water. The exterior hatches and loading bays were all open to the vacuum of space. The voice of the pilot appeared over the vessel’s speaker system.

  “The transport has been stripped clean. Her hatches are open, and the ship has been flushed.”

  “Shit!” swore Spartan.

  They were only three hundred metres away, but they might as well have been a parsec away. With the seals and
outer hatches blown, it was a simple sign that the enemy had stripped her of what they needed and then dumped air. They shook violently as the craft dodged two streams of projectiles from the nearest frigates. The Yorkdale and Santa Cruz were right in the middle of the small group of Union frigates and firing shot after shot into them. Although neither ship was designed as a ship of the line, they were both equipped with enough close and medium range weapons to make them a threat to anything up to a cruiser.

  “What’s that?” called out the co-pilot.

  Spartan strained in the passenger section to see what he was looking at.

  “Got it,” said the man before looking back towards Spartan.

  “Sir. We have a number of transports returning to the cruiser. It looks like they are heading back from the largest transport.”

  “What about the other ships?”

  “Marines from Santa Cruz are already aboard and searching for survivors. News on the wire is they only hit the one transport. Some bodies, but no equipment was taken. Just people by the looks of things.”

  “Anybody on the cruiser?”

  “No, Sir, she is too much for us to take on.”

  Spartan turned back to Khan.

  “Did you hear that? He says the enemy cruiser is too much for us to take.”

  Khan looked livid and started pulling at the electromagnetic restraints that stopped him and the rest floating about in the craft. Spartan turned back to the co-pilot.

  “Yeah, I thought he might do that. Put me on with Major Daniels.”

  “Sir.”

  Spartan looked back at the space battle. From their position, the display unit was full of ships and flashes but no fires or explosions. It always amazed him how different a battle in space was compared to on a planet. There were no shockwaves from the weapons, no flames or burning over time and even more strange, no sound. It made this battlefield feel even more inhumane and cruel.

  “Lieutenant, the Yorkdale is not responding. I cannot make radio contact with her.”

  “Damn. Are they still operational?”

  “They are on the scanner and being hit by multiple frigates. It looks like assault craft are attached to her hull.”

  “They are being boarded,” said an almost jovial Spartan.

  “Shall I change course, Sir?”

  Khan started laughing in the back of the shuttle.

  “Don’t worry about them. I’m sure upwards of a thousand Jötnar can defend one ship. I just wonder if any of the Union troops will make it off the ship alive?”

  He paused for just a second.

  “What about Colonel Blake?”

  “Already trying, Sir.”

  He looked back at the marines and Jötnar who waited patiently. One of them cradled what looked like a two-handed mace. The design was crude, but it looked sturdy and must have weighed at least four or five kilograms. Spartan shook his head as he watched the warrior.

  “This isn’t looking good, Sir. The primary transport is without power and already being searched by marines from Santa Cruz. We’re tracking a number of smaller vessels moving back to the cruiser, and I suspect they are taking prisoners, possibly hostages back to the ship.”

  “Why?” asked one of the Vanguard marines.

  “Maybe they need more slaves for their synthetic servants. More likely they have intelligence on the people aboard and want them. There are a large number of techs and Confed crewmen there.”

  “True. Aren’t they shipping a group of them to the Anomaly?” asked Spartan.

  The co-pilot shrugged in reply, but a series of flashing lights took his attention back to his console.

  “Uh, Sir. Got the Colonel.”

  “Put him through.”

  A light flashed inside Spartan’s suit indicating a connection with the Santa Cruz. He tapped a button, and the image of Colonel Blake appeared.

  “Lieutenant?” he asked with suspicion.

  “Yes, Sir, Lieutenant Spartan 1st Company, 1st Assault Battalion, Sir.”

  “What can I do for you? I’m sure you can see we’re somewhat busy!”

  The video display shook, and he could see two officers getting up from the floor. The ship must have been taking quite a pounding from the enemy frigates.

  “Sir, the cruiser. I think she is taking on prisoners from the transports.”

  “Yes, we spotted the movement. She is the Eternal Vigilance. Intel says the vessel is under the command of a Zealot corsair, but we don’t have his name. Apparently, he has hit through other convoys in less than a week.”

  “Can you stop her?”

  There was a short pause as the Colonel spoke with his XO. He turned back shaking his head.

  “No chance, son. This particular warship is known for its hardened and reinforced armour. She took on two cruisers out on the Rim just four days ago. One is crippled and the other is heading for dry-dock. Anyway, they are already starting their ignition sequence. We expect they will be out of here in less than ten minutes, twelve tops. It is probably best to let them go. We don’t have the manpower or the firepower to stop them leaving.”

  “We can stop them!” snapped Khan, his booming voice making it inside Spartan’s suit.”

  “You have Jötnar with you?” asked the Colonel with surprise.

  “Yes, Sir. We are a mixed assault unit.”

  The Colonel tuned from the screen and spoke to another marine in urban camouflage. The man appeared almost excited at the information given to him by the Colonel. After a few more seconds, the man saluted and quickly moved away. The Colonel turned back to the camera.

  “Lieutenant, this is very interesting. If there is any chance we could take one of these vessels intact, it would be extremely useful to the war effort.”

  “And the prisoners?”

  “That would be a bonus, Lieutenant. Now, we can keep them busy long enough for you to conduct an assault landing, but we can’t hold them forever. How many people do you have with you?”

  “Four shuttles, a full assault company of Vanguards and Jötnar. Commander Gun and his bodyguard squad are also with us. If you can keep the guns off us, we can get inside the ship.”

  The Colonel thought for just a few seconds, not even bothering to check with his own officers. Spartan was well aware of the man’s reputation. He was as daring as he was stubborn, and he was almost certainly weighing up the benefits of risking a company to do this job against the possible rewards.

  “Do it. We don’t have the luxury of time. All you need to do is stop her from leaving. Don’t try and take the entire ship, just ensure she stays put and we will do the rest. We will make sure she can’t settle long enough to accelerate safely. In twenty minutes I can have Captain Hobbs with a full company of marines to assist you. Following that up to another two platoons within forty minutes, if needed. I will liaise directly with Major Daniels.”

  “Yes, Sir. He is on board the Yorkdale and assisting in the defence of the ship, but I am unable to reach him. We were the only company to launch before the ship was hit by boarding parties.”

  “Boarding parties? The Union tried to board the Yorkdale? Are they insane?”

  Spartan smiled and said nothing.

  “Ah, well I can imagine he will be busy just keeping his own side under control in that situation. Don’t you have an entire battalion of them on board?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Oh my, what a shame.”

  “Sir, can I assume Captain Hobbs will operate independently of my unit?”

  Spartan did his best to mask his disgust of the name Hobbs. She had made his life hell and had been instrumental in the removal of the Vanguards from the battalion. Whenever she was around, Spartan always seemed to come off worse.

  “You and Hobbs, not the best combination? Listen Spartan. You do your job, and I’ll make sure her marines land well away from you. Save personal issues for another day.”

  “Sir,” said Spartan reluctantly.

  The video feed vanished.


  “Lieutenant, we’ve scanned the enemy ship, and it looks like the cargo area on the port side is still open for loading containers from our ships. If we’re fast, we can hit them from there and put your forces inside the container and habitation areas. I’ve sent the scan to your intelligence brief.”

  Spartan looked at the newly arrived image. It was a crude but usable three-dimensional model of the outer parts of the enemy ship as well as several of the landing areas.

  “Any idea on complement?”

  “No, Sir. The habitation area is smaller than most capital ships, but that doesn’t mean the crew size is any smaller. As you know, there are plenty of warships that still operate without artificial gravity of any kind. It actually makes sense for short distance craft as you retain more usable space.”

  Spartan nodded and continued looking at the model. He traced the main access points and the known power blooms that would be the location of the primary power nodes. The pilot and co-pilot watched him carefully, waiting for his news.

  “This is the plan. We’re hitting the cruiser and fast. Do you have the location for the landing zone?”

  The co-pilot checked his navigation system and then turned in his seat, giving him the thumbs up.

  “Good. We hit the ground running, but we’ll be outnumbered to start with. We fight our way inside and move to the engineering section. We only need to stall them to give the reinforcements time to arrive. Any questions?”

  None of them said a word, just stood there waiting for their orders.

  “Good. When we land, go in hard and fast. Leave casualties. We’ll come back for them. If we’re too slow, they will take us with them. Got that?”

  The marines and Jötnar shouted and cheered at the news. Spartan tried to look cheerful, but he was starting to feel the strain. How many combat landings had he made now? Every time he did this a good number of marines didn’t come back. He resolved himself to the fact that he would do everything in his power to mitigate casualties. He just hoped they actually made it to the ship in one piece.

  “Okay, people. Hold on, this is going to get rough!” called the co-pilot of the shuttle.