Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift (6 page)

Lieutenant Young saluted smartly and then moved off at a jog.

* * *

ANS Terra, Prometheus Sector

Captain Jerome scratched at his cheek and looked over his shoulder at his crew. He remained completely confident in his mission, but the sight of the vast station was hard to ignore. He recalled his orders from Terra Nova and looked at it again.

They know we’re Alliance military, so why are they resisting?

He glanced down at the tactical schematic and overlay on a smaller screen. The armor and weapon systems were impressive, but he also knew the station's weak points. President Harrison had given him unlimited access to the Naval archives, at least the data that was still accessible. For some reason, large parts of it had been removed or destroyed. It wasn’t something he’d given much thought of, mainly down to his joy at being given such an important role. In all of his years on the planet, he’d thought his chance at starship command had long gone. The Navy was not interested, even though his record and credentials were perfect.

Racist, self-righteous liberals!

His opinion of the multi-colonial fleet had diminished year by year, spurred on by his inability to penetrate its ranks. He wanted command more than anything, and now he had it. While he’d been struggling to be accepted, he’d seen cadets from the Biomech spawned warriors on Hyperion joining up. One of the youngest had even been placed in charge of a frigate.

All appeasement to these creatures and their masters; first they burned our world, and then they pretended to be our allies by burning it again. We will deal with all of them in time.

He’d studied the plans for the station on his way out here, and what appealed to him the most was that the Prometheus Seven Station had never been intended as a military installation. Modern stations were designed with small entry points with each one being protected by redundant systems. This station was a grand affair from days of old, with massive landing docks, grand entrances, and staircases. Many of the interior sections had been designed to look more like early twentieth-century ocean liners. The exotic and degenerate had all been part of its interior aesthetic, and every part of it sickened him.

He smiled to himself.

This place is nothing more that a decadent hotel for the collaborators and their friends floating over a hellhole of a planet. If only Terra Nova had been stronger in the last war, we could have ended it on our terms, not theirs.

He had no respect for the station, let alone the research and manufacturing plants on the planet below. The longer he was stationed there, the more he was beginning to like this assignment. It was almost enough to distract him from the latest problem with his own vessel. Unfortunately, the levels of stress and tension inside the ship had increased to an almost unbearable level, not helped by the fact that the internal climate control system had chosen that very moment to fail. Several of the engineers were already on it, but he had no doubt the age and condition of the ship was more likely to be the cause.

“Somebody sort this out. Of all the times for this kind of failure, it happens in the middle of this!” he snapped.

The temperature had risen ten degrees and was still rising, leading all of them to sweat profusely. It was more than just an irritation to him because he’d been forced to cut his live videostream. The embarrassment was something he had no intention of being reminded of by those sitting in the comfort of that orbital hotel.

“Well, still no response?”

All of his officers shook their heads.

“Very well.”

He turned his attention instead to a man in Terra Novan Guards uniform. The warrior had said nothing since they had arrived. Instead, he had been waiting and watching. The odd black hue gave the impression the man’s armor was plastic, and his well-trimmed mustache marked him out as one of the planet’s elite. He was neither a soldier, nor a politician. This man was an odd amalgamation of the two. A kind of politically indoctrinated officer, with influence back home with the new regime as well as in his own combat unit.

“Your troops, are they ready to do what has to be done?”

Lieutenant Dobbs smiled, a thin, cruel look that mirrored the ship’s captain.

“I have my two platoons of Interior Ministry soldiers, and every single one of them is ready to do his duty for the homeworld. We all saw the execution of the traitors. They are well motivated to end this crisis, decisively.”

The phrasing was unlike anything you might expect to hear from a member of the Alliance armed forces.

“Good. Send them in, Lieutenant. I want you to lead them, personally. We cannot afford any mistakes. Terra Nova and the Alliance were once ruled by humanity alone. It is time for us to lead by example. We will ensure all civilian and military forces answer through the chain of command directly back to us, no questions asked.”

“Understood, Sir. This is a crisis, and Biomech collaborators will play no part in our destiny. It’s time to take back our colonies.”

With a single smart salute, the man marched away, and Captain Jerome was left wondering quite who was the most serious here. He looked back to the screens and allowed himself a small smile.

The Biomechs, the Helions, and the rest, they all play their games; but it will be humanity that will come out on top. The more they fight, the weaker they become. Admiral Anderson and his puppets will rue the day they sided with the bastard creatures of the Biomechs.

To the surprise of those officers nearby, he spat onto the ground.

We shall never forget what they did to our home.

A warm bead of sweat dripped over his left eyebrow and ran into his eye, immediately causing him discomfort. It was a minor thing, but in this stress-filled environment it was the last straw.

“Target their bridge and communications systems. Prepare to fire!”

Only one of the technicians looked back to him. The young man’s eyes betrayed fear, or nerves. At this distance Captain Jerome wasn’t sure. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the crewman.

If any of them falters on this mission, they will pay the price.

Even as he considered the repercussions, he reached down and checked his sidearm was present. For a brief moment he felt a flutter of fear, but then his fingers found the reassuringly metal and plastic grip.

Good. We’re ready to show our hand. Are they?

* * *

Prometheus Seven Outpost, Prometheus Sector

The alarms had started up once more, but this time it was different. The danger wasn’t that unknown vessels had arrived. The risk to everybody on board was now directly related to the shuttles and their cargo of heavily armed soldiers. Small groups of people ran about the station with guns in their hands. Even fewer wore head protection or body armor. Even so, they moved quickly to the key vulnerable points on the station.

“Colonel, we’ve got three more military shuttles on the way. That’s ten in total.”

From such a long distance the shuttles looked tiny, but with the magnified view the guns fitted to their stubby wings betrayed their true purpose. Colonel Pierce watched the shuttles as they split off into pairs and made for different parts of the station.

“Colonel?” asked the station’s tactical officer, “Our fighter pilots need a shooting order. Can they open fire?”

He wanted to say yes. In fact, he knew he needed to say yes.

“No, tell them to hold their fire. We cannot start a shooting fight with them.”

He rubbed his forehead and then checked the screens for what must have been the tenth time. The Alliance was an odd, disparate collection of colonies, but he found it incredible that there could be any stomach for continuing fighting after everything they had all been through.

“How long do we have?”

The officer looked back at his screen and checked the incoming trajectories.

“Sir, the first two groups will make contact within sixty seconds. The last two shuttles to leave are heading right here.”

He pointed off to the right where low-level lighting marked the route to a series of emergency blast doors. The entrance was wide, but half had been welded shut in the last year, as access points through the station had been improved.

“I think they’re heading for the command section escape hatches.”

The thought of hatches being ripped open was a horrific idea.

If they blow the doors, they’ll vent this entire part of the station.

“Very well. I need a single fireteam, in here. It’s time to enter lockdown.”

Other officers were now watching him, perhaps waiting for their own orders to draw firearms.

“All non-essential crew will return to the secure zones in the spine. The rest of you will draw respirators and sidearms, and then return to your stations. Let’s go to work, people.”

There was no argument, not now. The spine of the station was the only part of the massive facility that lacked artificial gravity. By sending the non-combatants to this point, he was keeping them as far from danger as he could. The spine also housed a high-speed elevator system that ran to each end of the station and the massive escape decks. In seconds, the entire place was deserted, save for the handful that had moved to the computer systems at the furthest points from the outer airlock doors.

“On my signal, you will kiss the ground and stay there until you are told otherwise. Understood?”

* * *

The lights were dim inside the landing bay, but the bright beams from the landing lights of the transport easily cleared the glare. The single marine ran into the open space and stopped in front of the six large figures. He almost tumbled as he choked and coughed. The bright beams from behind the figures hid their features and marked them out as nothing more than vast black silhouettes.

“What is it?” asked the nearest in a gruff, stern tone.

“Lieutenant Young. He needs you to stop the weapons transfer and to come to the command center with all haste.”

Again the taller figure spoke in that grating tone.

“Why? We have work to do here, and it will be another hour before all of this is unloaded for your defense teams.”

“There isn’t time. The intruders from Terra Nova have sent shuttles. They’re about to breach.”

The two nearest figures looked to each other and then bent down to a large metal container. One pulled out a multi-barreled gun that was almost the same size as the marine. “I don’t think so, marine. We’ve checked their configuration, and they are not Alliance ships. Any illegal vessel attempting to board an Alliance facility can expect only one response. If they tried this on Prometheus, well, I would be authorized to do whatever was required.”

With a loud clunk, the safety clicked off, and the barrels gave three quick spins. The weapon was intimidating enough by virtue of its size, but the clicks as the barrels spun about, was the final straw. The figure bent down so that their faces were of the same height. The young man did his best not to flinch, but the great size was simply too much. One of those at the back began a throaty laugh that echoed through the hangar.

“You’re scaring the boy.”

The tall one sighed impatiently.

“Take us to your Colonel, and fast. It sounds like we don’t have much time.”

* * *

Lieutenant Dobbs was out of the shuttle first and pushed himself away from the craft and toward the outer skin of the vast rotating space station. With all exterior doors and hatches closed, the only way into the station would be via violent means, and the constant repositioning of the shuttles made the transfer very difficult. He was beginning to wish the ships had opened fire on the rotational mechanisms of the station to ease their entry.

“Watch for traps,” he said calmly.

Like all members of the Guards, he had been trained in counter-insurgency operations. A large part of the syllabus included dealing with asymmetric threats, improvised explosive devices, and other non-conventional situations. More of the men left the two shuttles and helped each other to reach the outer surface of the station. The gap from shuttle to station was only thirty meters, but that short distance could feel like a kilometer when you lacked the ability to change course or direction.

“Squad One in position,” said a quiet voice over the radio.

Lieutenant Dobbs had already noted the position of the unit making its way further along the station. He moved his eyes a little to check that each of the five assault teams was in the right place.

Good, almost there.

The shuttles were all waiting a short distance away while the two platoons of heavily equipped soldiers anchored themselves to the skin. The Lieutenant pulled himself around the surface and to a long series of grab handles. Because of the vast size of the station, the rotation felt very slow. Even so, as he grabbed, he could feel the tug as it tried to pull away.

“With me.”

The others moved in close and took up positions alongside him.