Battle for Proxima (32 page)

“Excellent work, Sergeant,” she said but kept her gaze on Spartan.

Once the Sergeant had left, she took a step closer to him. Spartan looked carefully, trying to assess what was going to happen.

“I take it you have heard the news about your Jötnar friends? As expected, they have gone against orders and got themselves stuck on board a derelict spacecraft that is heading for our transports in orbit.”

“I’m sure they are doing their best, as we all are.”

She looked angrily at him, her gaze still locked on his eyes.

“We have a chain of command for a reason. Allowing the Jötnar to serve alongside us was a mistake, and one we will soon see rectified!”

Spartan nearly choked, realising that Hobbs was referring to something he knew he didn’t want to hear.

“What do you mean?” he asked, bracing himself for her news.

The War Barge will be in amongst our ships soon. If she doesn’t change course in the next five minutes, the Fleet has orders to destroy it.”

“What?” demanded Spartan.

“What did you expect? The ship is risking the entire Fleet. As far as we know, the enemy is still under control of the ships weapon systems. If they get close enough, they can hit the transports mid drop. There could be thousands of casualties.”

“Rubbish. The Jötnar will secure the ship and get it away from the Fleet.”

“Can we even trust them? They will probably take control and use the guns anyway.”

Spartan was starting to shake, his temper just barely controllable. He was about to reply when Teresa and one of the Vanguards appeared to his right. Her armour was almost as smashed as his. Dents and burn marks ran along the limbs and he spotted over a dozen dents from small arms and cannon fire. She saluted to the Captain.

“Sir.”

She then turned to Spartan.

“Sir, I’ve just received a communication from Captain Daniels that he wants us to bring reinforcements back to the transport hub to help with the defence.”

Captain Hobbs cleared her voice loudly.

“Sergeant, I am the commanding officer here. Round up your Vanguards and help unload supplies. I will take the reinforcements to the frontline, you look like you could do with a break.”

“Captain!” barked Spartan.

She turned back to him and glared. “That isn’t a request, Lieutenant. You are in no shape to fight. Use the power loading equipment you are wearing and help with unloading the heavy gear. That is an order!”

She waited for a few seconds, expecting further argument from Spartan. Though he wanted to put his fist through her visor, he was well aware of her intentions. One obvious act of sedition and he’d be locked up and sent to the brig. He saluted lazily.

“Yes…Sir.”

Captain Hobbs turned away and moved to the assembled troops. She started giving them their orders. Teresa indicated for the rest of the Vanguards to join her and Spartan.

“How is Marcus?”

“Concussion and lacerations to the legs. He’s being loaded onto the shuttle to return to the Cruz,” answered Randle, one of the new recruits in the platoon.

“Teresa, I need to speak with Admiral Jarvis,” said Spartan as he looked around, trying to find a way of speaking with her.

“No chance. Hobbs can route a signal up through the Cruz and then on to the Crusader. No way, will she, though. Why do you need the Admiral, what’s the problem?”

“We have to stop the destruction of the War Barge. Gun and the rest of the Jötnar will be massacred.”

He continued speaking but the assault shuttle that Hobbs had arrived on was powering up its engines. The powerful turbines were fitted up high on rotating wing mounts and as the power plants revved the dust cloud increased in size. Spartan started walking towards it. Teresa chased alongside.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she shouted.

Spartan said nothing and simply marched up to the side-loading ramp where several stretchers were being taken inside. Spartan pushed past two of the crew and into the loading bay of the shuttle. Teresa stood outside and looked at him, confused.

“What?” she said, shaking her head.

“I’m going to get Gun,” he replied dispassionately.

“Gun? Are you joking? They’ll court martial you for this. Leaving your post in times of war and all that!”

“I don’t care. I’m talking hundreds, maybe thousands of lives here.”

Teresa stood silently, unsure what to say or do. The rest of the Vanguards had arrived and stood next to her, even less sure about what was happening than she was. She turned to them.

“Spartan and I are taking Sergeant Keller back to the Santa Cruz. Tell Captain Daniels we are going to get Gun.”

“Gun? The Jötnar?” asked Randle.

“Yes, Gun. Just pass it on. Good luck!” she said and then threw herself inside the section, alongside Spartan. The door slammed shut behind them and in less than thirty seconds the heavily armed assault shuttle was blasting off, leaving a ring of dust and three confused looking Vanguards in their wake. Spartan looked down at the bruised and battered shape of Marcus who was lying on the stretcher. He lifted himself up slightly, his vision and hearing obviously returning fast. He spotted the shape of Spartan, still inside his battered Vanguard armour. To the side of him was the equally rough looking Teresa.

“What in God’s balls are you two doing here?”

The two sat there looking at each other. Marcus shook his head and closed his eyes. The shuttle started to vibrate as the main engines fired. The boost of power was the first stage in its trip up into orbit and the waiting ships.

* * *

“Any sign of their engines powering up?” asked Admiral Jarvis.

Captain Tobler finished speaking with his immediate officers before looking back to her.

“No, Admiral, they are dead and drifting in the water. They will be close enough to start hitting the transports in less than fifteen minutes. How many are left in orbit?”

She looked at her tactical display and did a quick tally.

“Three Army transports. They are taking on wounded from the shuttles. The rest have pulled back, but most of the infantry transports and landing craft can’t break out of orbit. Only some of the marine shuttles have the power to break away. Those that can’t make the trip have already returned to the surface. The Santa Cruz has dropped back to provide cover for the rest of them.”

“We’ll have to start now if we are going to stop her. Even then it might not be enough, Admiral.”

She stood silently, hoping and praying news would arrive of a change but she knew deep down it wouldn’t. The badly damaged Yorkdale had broken away from the War Barge and was moving slowly out of the area. As they moved apart, a number of cannon shells blasted back and forth between the two ships. From the Crusader, it looked as though they were locked in some kind of private argument.

“Admiral, what are your orders?” asked Captain Tobler once more.

She waited just a few more seconds before making a final decision.

“Give them one last warning. They have sixty seconds to evacuate the ship or we reduced her to ashes. We can’t wait any longer!”

“Aye, Sir,” replied the Captain, pleased to finally have orders to act on but also feeling angry that he would have to fire on a potentially friendly ship.

Admiral Jarvis lifted the intercom unit.

“This is the Admiral. The Vengeance is showing no signs of movement and is still shooting back. You are hereby given fifty seconds notice of a fire order. Upon my command, all ships in range will target the Vengeance. Total destruction is paramount to avoid damage to the colony below. Standby for my signal.”

She lowered the intercom and checked her tactical screen, again looking for something she could use.

“Captain, I’m picking up a reading from near the Vengeance. A shuttle, one of the assault shuttles from CCS Santa Cruz is changing course and moving towards the War Barge.”

“What! Who is it?” he demanded.

“I have a signal from Lieutenant Spartan,” said Lieutenant Nilsson excitedly.

“Put him on the main screen!”

The image once more slid to the right to make space for a new video feed from the shuttle. It showed the crew section of the craft with a pilot at the controls and two Vanguard marines pointing their weapons at the man.

“Explain yourself, Lieutenant!” said the Captain.

“The Jötnar deserve better. I’m going to board the ship and do what I can to help.”

“Where is your unit?”

“On the surface, they are assisting in the city defence, Sir.”

“This is dereliction of duty, Lieutenant.”

“Call it what you like, Sir. I won’t leave them behind!”

The video feed cut off, leaving the image of the assault shuttle rushing towards the War Barge. As it moved closer, multiple streams of tracer fire blasted around it from the ship’s automated defence turrets. Several rounds struck the thick armour of the craft but nothing substantial enough to stop its progress. As quickly as it had arrived, it disappeared underneath the great ship’s hull.

“Where are they going?” demanded the Admiral.

“The shuttle bay on the underside, Sir. I’m receiving messages from the Fleet, they are awaiting your orders.”

Admiral Jarvis considered her options. Should she wait and give Spartan a chance or should she start shooting now? It was an unenviable decision to make.

“Admiral, two of their forward guns are tracking towards the transports, they are almost in position to fire.”

Lieutenant Nilsson called out. “Admiral! Status report from General Rivers. His forces have reached the city and have surrounded the last enemy forces. Most are surrendering, the last few are being hunted down by Vanguard units under Captain Daniels.”

“Excellent, pass on the message to the transports and see if he needs any aerial assets to assist him.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Admiral Jarvis looked down at her deck and the intercom. She couldn’t believe after all that had happened, with the ground battle almost over, that she would have to do this. She took a deep breath.

“Very well,” she grabbed the intercom, putting herself in direct command of the circling warships.

“This is the Admiral. We have a rescue team aboard the ship. Target her weapon systems. Avoid structural damage where possible. Open fire!”

She lowered the intercom and stared at the view screen. The ships were more efficient that she ever could have hoped. Flashes of plasma rippled along a dozen capital ships as cruisers, frigates and transports released their pent up rage. Railguns hurled solid shot that ripped metres into the armour of the War Barge. The heavy cannon shells of the older cruiser did their job but the penetration was substantially less. On the screen, it reminded her of a prisoner in the stocks and having rotten fruit hurled at him. She turned from the violence and lifted her hands to her face.

“God save them,” she whispered.

* * *

From inside the shuttle, Spartan could barely seen out of the tiny windows. It wasn’t helped by the grime and scratches covering the armoured visor on his suit. According to the sensors, the armour was having trouble maintaining pressure. It wasn’t an issue for moving about in the ship, but if he were caught in a pressure-less section he would have just a few minutes before the inbuilt generators failed and he lost pressure. With a clunk, the vessel rested against one of the landing bulkheads.

“Teresa, you ready?”

She nodded and released the metal bars she’d been holding on to since they left the surface of Euryale. Unlike the suits used by the infantry, the Vanguard armour had been modified with experimental magnetic boots. It was a simple modification allowing the wearer to attach and detach their armoured feet on compatible surfaces. How well it would work on the interior of an old warhorse, like the Vengeance, was another thing.

“Let’s do this!” Without checking, he hit the release button. The side door slid open to reveal an empty hangar area lacking in both people and lighting. Spartan switched off the boots and pushed away. He moved slowly forwards, the drifting of zero-g travel feeling strange inside the suit. He covered the distance quickly and started to flounder as he approached the wall. With no inbuilt thrusters, he had to lift his arms to protect his face as he crashed into the metal. As he made contact, a quick flick of the switch activated the boots. Thankfully, the suit clunked into place on the wall. He waited a moment as he adjusted his bearings before realising he was stood on one of the walls.

“Spartan!” Teresa called out on the intercom. He looked to his right and saw her drifting just as he had done. Reaching out he grabbed her, pushing her towards the actual floor of the room. She struck the ground and started to tumble.

“Hit your boots!”

As she struggled to right herself, he walked down the wall and to the floor next to her. She stood up and shook her head.

“I goddamn hate zero-g combat.”

“Don’t remind me!” grinned Spartan.

He looked at his tactical screen and the plans of the War Barge. The ship was massive but he had no intentions of hanging around. It shook violently and he had to grab one of the walls to stop being thrown about.

“Looks like they started shooting.”

“It’s expected, if the ship gets much closer they’ll be able to hit our transports. We need to get a shift on.”

He slammed his metal fists into the sealed door and forced it to the side. As it pushed across, it revealed a devastated corridor marked with bullets holes and thermal damage. Spartan stepped inside, his boots thudding down hard as he moved slowly along. Teresa followed, her weapon arms lowered and moving from left to right as she checked for hostiles.

“What’s the plan?” asked Teresa.

“You remember the Bone Mill?”

“I’m still trying to forget it.”

“Anyway, you find the links to the AI hub. According to the briefings, the enemy have been installing them to control hardware and even ships. This ship has been captured and used against the Fleet. I’m betting the reason the Jötnar can’t regain control is that is isn’t men in charge.”