Battle for Proxima (13 page)

Gun looked at him with a confused expression.

“Ko’mandor?” he asked with difficulty in pronouncing the word.

“No. It is Commander,” repeated Commander Anderson.

General Rivers interrupted them both, seemingly irritated by the time being taken on semantics.

“Ko’mandor is just fine.”

Commander Anderson looked less than convinced at the news.

“Is he being given an honorific title, Sir, or is this an actual military position?”

“This isn’t a joke, Anderson. The Admiral and I are concerned that if the Biomechs, no, I mean Jötnar, are to integrate into our forces they will have to join us formally. Commander Gun and his Jötnar will be an important and valued part of the Confederacy.”

Gun looked to Anderson and the others, smiling in his own crooked and slightly sinister way.

“Ko’mandor Gun. Yes, that is it.”

General Rivers moved to the side of the screen, presumably to access an onboard computer on his ship. One of the displays in the room flashed and a map displaying ship dispositions appeared. He continued speaking.

“The Promethean Fleet and all ground forces will leave the colony in twenty-four hours. You are to leave a token defence force, we need everybody you can muster for the counter offensive.”

“May I ask the destination, General?”

“You’ll know shortly, Commander, in the meantime get your people ready. One day and you move out.”

“Understood, General. Is there any news from the Fleet, Sir?”

The General paused for a moment before leaning in closer to the camera, the consequence being his head appeared to grow even larger. Gun stepped back, uncomfortable at what looked like a giant General Rivers.

“The Fleet is assembling and in good shape. We have enough ships and ground forces to start the fight back. Admiral Jarvis has established a plan that once put into practice, will start the slow and steady reversal of our fortunes. I don’t know how long it will take, son, we will return every colony to the Confederate fold though, I promise you that.”

“Excellent, that’s what we wanted to hear.”

The officers saluted and the screen faded out to black. Gun started to laugh, the low rumble from his throat filling the room.

“What’s so funny, Gun?” asked Bishop.

“Ko’mandor!” he said with a pause in the middle of the word. He then turned to leave the room. It was just a subtle alteration of a common word, but in Gun’s voice it sounded like something new and alien, a perfect companion to the even stranger sounding Jötnar.

Bishop and Kowalski looked in confusion at Anderson. The officer shrugged and smiled back at them.

“Don’t ask me, you’ve spent more time with him than I have!” he laughed. “Just make sure the ships, weapons and troops are ready. You heard the General. There’s a big operation coming and we need every fighter on the front line. Kowalski, I want tech teams to double their efforts on the defensive systems. How far away are you from integrating the compound’s defences to our own tactical network?”

“Well, the estimate was another three days. I’ll see what we can cut out and get as much online as possible.”

“Good. If we’re taking most of our forces away from here, we’ll need as much of the automated defence system operational to keep this place secure.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied the two men who saluted and then marched off, leaving just the Commander in the room.

“Jötnar Battalions? They won’t know what hit them!” he said to himself.

* * *

The journey from the surface had been uneventful. The shuttles were already making their way out of the atmosphere and into high orbit around the planet. As the glow from the planet faded, it was possible to make out the flicker of stars in the blackness of space.

“There she is!” said Teresa happily.

Spartan tried to lean towards the window, but the combination of the harness and the acceleration forced him down into his seat. He turned his head and strained to see in the direction she was pointing.

Marcus, who was sitting behind them, tapped Spartan on his shoulder.

“Watch yourself, Lieutenant, you might strain something!”

Spartan twisted behind. “Funny!”

He looked out through the small viewport on the vessel, where he could just about get a glimpse of the ship. The CCS Santa Cruz was massive, easily the size of the major capital warships and bristling with antennas and dishes. She had been a civilian vessel earlier in her life, but her conversion to a Marine transport had transformed her hull. The retrofitted armour, weapons and point defence systems had been installed to protect the crew and passengers from attack. To improve the vessel’s operational capability, the cargo space had been converted to a fully automated hangar and loading bay, allowing the use of landing craft and shuttles. It wasn’t the prettiest conversion job, but the end result was a vessel perfectly suited to carrying large number of marines throughout the Confederacy. There was even space on board for training and combat practice.

“She looks different to the Santa Maria,” said Teresa, as she carefully examined the lines of the ship.

“How can you tell?” asked Spartan, himself unable to spot any noticeable changes.

“Their hull sections are different lengths. The Cruz is longer and thinner, especially right there, to the rear,” she pointed.

“What else?”

“The loading bays on the Cruz are larger, she can move more marines and faster. The Santa Maria has more space and dedicated training facilities. Cruz, she is a true ship of war now.”

“You reckon we’ll get some R&R when we get back? We’ve been in action more than we’ve been on the ship!” asked Marcus.

“We’re at war, Marcus, what do you expect? At least we’re going back to the ship. I would think the platoon will get re-equipped, a few days off and then back to wherever the General decides we should be going.”

“Have you heard from the General since we all got back?”

Spartan looked out of the window, thinking of the bloody fighting back on Prometheus, when they attempted an insurrection to escape the prison. The General had been there, right in the thick of things and had come back even angrier and more scarred than before.

“Not since we left the Cruz. He has a lot of work to do getting ready for the counter-offensive.”

Teresa twisted around to look at him. “You think there’ll be one?”

“Of course. We can’t just sit about waiting while the enemy gets stronger. The longer we wait, the harder our job will be. If I know the General, he is already getting resources together to start a major operation, and when he does you know who he’ll be calling!”

“Yeah, great, thanks, Spartan. So we have our new shiny unit that every commander is going to want to use.”

“Well, that’s what the unit is for. With the armour and firepower our Vanguards have, we can turn a battle around in minutes and with minimal casualties. It’s the right thing to do.”

A clunk reverberated through the vessel as the hydraulic grapples extended from the craft. From the window, the hull of the Santa Cruz crept ever closer, the thick metal ribs now evident as they drifted. Massive rotating sections along the length of the ship showed off the state of the art artificial gravity of the transport.

* * *

Spartan pulled himself out of the shuttle, making his way along the ladder and through the collapsible tube. It was fully transparent but sealed and safe from the cruel, airless section of the ship used by machines, robotics and shuttlecraft. He moved a little further, until reaching the multi-layered airlock seal. As he reached the first level, a blast of warm air rushed down towards the shuttle. He turned back to see Teresa close behind.

“What’s up LT?” she asked, now ever careful to avoid his name in public.

“Nothing, just checking you’re all awake.”

He turned back, continuing along the ladder and through the final airlock segment into the sealed section of the landing bay. As he emerged, he reached a spider-shaped section with poles and ladders extending out to the hull. It was odd, the structure moved slowly in the centre, but if he looked off to the sides of the ship he could see the outside moving move quickly. Grabbing the first pole, he pulled himself along with the speed and timing of a man that had done it many times before. It didn’t take long before he reached the end and dropped to the floor. As his feet hit the solid surface, he felt a little shaken, the movement of the metal sending a shiver through his body.

“You okay, Lieutenant?” asked a familiar voice. Spartan straightened himself up and looked towards the voice.

“Captain...Captain Daniels, good to see you, Sir,” he said, automatically saluting.

“No need for that, I see time is working for you. Give it a few more months and you’ll be replacing General Rivers.”

“I don’t think so, I’m just...”

“It’s okay, I jest, of course. I’ve been reading the reports, your platoon has performed exceptionally well, you must be pleased?”

“I am, they have done good work and our mission should yield results.”

The officer leaned in closely to Spartan.

“From what I’ve heard, your mission has really got people moving around here. I don’t know what’s going on, but something big is brewing and you can be sure we’ll all be in the middle of it.”

Marcus and Teresa dropped down beside Spartan. The rest of the marines made their way down and headed for the debriefing room.

“Sir,” said Teresa.

Spartan turned and looked at her and then to Marcus.

“Good, you’re both here. You’ve met Captain Daniels before,” he said, introducing them both to the Captain, before continuing. “I thought you were still with the engineering company, under the command of Captain Mathews. Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Actually, I’m glad your sergeants are here. Isn’t there another one, Lovett, I think?”

“Where is he?” asked Spartan.

“He went straight to the engineers, something about not being happy with the gyro mounts and the weapon system. Officially, he is going there to help the engineers, unofficially I think he plans on a bit of shouting,” said Marcus with a chortle.

“These suits of yours, they’ve been kicking up quite a storm. Some in the Marine Corps are talking about producing a heavily modified version that can be made small and issued to all front line infantry. What do you think?”

“It is interesting. The main advantages of the armour are its strength and defensive capability. If you make it smaller, will it still be able to take a heavy impact from a rocket, explosive or firearm?”

Marcus nodded in agreement and stepped forward, feigning a series of jabs.

“More importantly, when you’re underground and in the dirt can you still take on a Biomech in hand to hand combat and come out on top? I know I feel a lot safer encased in some pretty meaty chunks of metal.”

Spartan lifted his hand, palm forward and indicated for him to move back. He turned to the Captain and continued.

“You were saying about your promotion and the engineers?”

“I was, until I heard about your little operation at the Bone Mill. You have to understand the hostility the reports from Kerberos were about, when we were using some of the CES suits. There are those that don’t like change and you’ve been advocating some interesting options. Your results in the last few days though have turned a lot of people around. The time and money looks like it has paid off and the Vanguards, in time, have the potential to become maybe even a new wing to the military.”

“Something tells me that is going to piss off a few people,” said Teresa, before realising she was speaking before an officer. She quickly added a sir.

“You are probably right, that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be done though. I pulled some strings with the battalion and helped by the news of your success, I have been assigned to the Vanguards.”

Spartan nodded, stepping aside as a group of a dozen recruits marched past, escorted by a drill sergeant. He watched then for a moment, thinking back to the time not so long ago when he had been doing just the same. They passed a doorway from which emerged two officers, one of whom started to bark orders at the group. Spartan shook his head and looked back to his own group.

“That’s great news, Sir, we could certainly do with a few friendlies on our team. Being attached to Hobbs didn’t exactly go smoothly for us.”

Marcus looked a little angry and sighed as he spoke.

“That’s a bit of an understatement. If you ask me, she wanted us to fail. She pushed us out without checking the ground, doing a thorough recon or providing us with adequate support.”

Captain Daniels smiled at them and beckoned for the group of marines to lower their tone a little.

“I think you’ll find my news to your liking then. At the last meeting of the battalion commanders, based upon your reports, the decision has been made to expand the Vanguards. It will take time, but as you know there is already a second platoon under construction. I’ve been put in overall command of the company and the transition to a full company. The intention is to form a complete three platoon company with the option to double the number, if and when resources and personnel allow.”

Spartan smiled at him, genuinely pleased to see somebody known and competent would be further up the chain of command.

“A double company, so it could potentially hit over two hundred Vanguards? Do we have the equipment to even consider that?”

“The fabrication stations on the transports have been working flat out to break down the surplus and damaged PDS suits. The materials have produced over thirty Vanguard units since you’ve been on Prime.”

Marcus looked surprised at the news.

“Thirty, fully working suits in a few days? Man,...all we need now is bodies to fill them.”

“Quite. Something tells me we will be on the hunt for manpower very soon. In the meantime, I have enough personnel to start training up 2
^nd
Platoon and I’m going to need a few of your seasoned fighters to share their experience.”