Battle for Proxima (31 page)

“Marcus, are you alright?” he shouted, there was no response.

The enemy soldiers stopped their chase and turned to put down fire on the sheltering Spartan. He grabbed Marcus by the arm and shook him, noticing slight movement inside the man’s visor. He must be unconscious, Spartan thought. The armour penetration sensor flashed as two rounds splinted a servo mount on his left leg. He pulled himself up and pushed out from around the cover. The men were stood just a dozen metres away, most with their weapons pointed directly at him. Without thinking, he drove himself forward and dropped his hands down low. The ammunition counters on the guns were low and in less than a second’s worth of shooting he was left with just one gun with a quarter-f ammo box. The large calibre shells shredded the closest three and then he was amongst them.

“Bastards!” he roared, swinging his metal arms as hard as he could to strike them. The impact barely registered as he slammed his blade hard into the first. The hardened metal edge buried itself deeply into his thigh and then slammed into the next man. Two turned to run, the other five stood their ground and fired their automatic weapons at point blank range. Lights flashed throughout the suit as the weapons penetrated some of the weaker parts of the armour, damaging the delicate pipes and wiring running through the thinner section to the rear of the suit.

“Lieutenant, get down!” shouted somebody on his intercom. He didn’t recognise the voice for a moment, so caught up as he was in the bloodlust of close quarter combat. Nonetheless he dropped to the ground, just in time to see streaks of tracer fire from a team of Army soldiers. One armed with a shoulder-mounted thermal cannon sent a blast of superheated energy that vaporised two of the enemy. The rest were cut down in carefully aimed rapid fire.

He turned in the direction of his rescuers to see men in thick carapace armour. Though usually painted battleship grey, these soldiers were a type of mottled camouflage that fitted in beautifully with the urban structures around them. One of them moved closer and saluted.

“Sergeant Tony Jackson, Pathfinder Company.”

Spartan dragged himself up, immediately noticing the reduced power and movement in his arm. A quick glance showed him the suit had sustained substantial damage, yet after all of this it was still functioning.

“Lieutenant Spartan, Vanguard Company. Good to see you, Sergeant. Your timing is perfect.”

“Glad to see you, too, Sir. Your engineers are already being put to work. I can’t believe you took this place with just one company, Sir.”

“One company? No, two platoons is all we have right now.”

“We need some of that armour!” he said with a sly grin.

“Give me a hand,” asked Spartan. They helped lift the unconscious Marcus between them.

“The birds are on their way. Apparently, the first to land is a company of marines under the command of a Captain Hobbs. She says she wants to see you when she gets here.”

“Hobbs?” asked Spartan, with an obvious hint of bitterness in his voice. “You could say that, she’s itching for some combat and is pissed off by anybody that gets there first!”

“Yeah, we know the type. Watch your back, Sir.”

“Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it.”

* * *

Three ships were circling the Leviathan but after a full twenty minutes of battle it was still undecided. The Santa Cruz had sustained heavy damage to her bow and was turning to move from battle. The Santa Maria hadn’t fared much better, with one of her rotating sections out of action and a series of fires burning on her starboard hull. The Crusader showed no obvious signs of damage but inside was another story. Hundreds of dead and wounded had already been evacuated from the now totally crippled bow section. A quarter of the gun decks were offline due to damage in the primary power plant. In the CiC, gravity had resumed as the rotating sections reverted to their normal state of three rotations per minute.

“Her weapons are powering up again!” called the tactical officer.

“Captain, we can’t take another hit from those guns, we have to withdraw!” replied the desperate XO.

Captain Tobler staggered to the tactical display and stood next to Admiral Jarvis. She held a bandage to her forehead, trying to stem the flow of blood dripping from a light gash. He turned back to the XO.

“No, the only reason Typhon hasn’t flattened the colony is because we’re keeping her busy. Get us closer!”

Admiral Jarvis agreed, watching in satisfaction on the main screen, as scores of hits riddled the vessel. The Leviathan was certainly a ship worthy of its name. Captain Tobler traced the movement of the new ships on the display with his right hand.

“Here they come,” he said with a tone of dread and anger. The Crusader had fought hard and long but in the end they needed more time. The Leviathan was just too tough a ship to destroy in a hurry.

“Put them on the main screen,” he ordered.

The external cameras took several seconds to adjust, not helped by the barrage of cannon fire that raked Crusader’s hull. All the crew in the CiC watched anxiously as the blurred shapes slowed and then came into view. The first was an Army transport, closely followed by a group of two damaged light cruisers.

“Can it be?” said Admiral Jarvis, with a tinge of doubt in her voice.

Four destroyers moved in, quickly followed by another Army transport and a frigate. The smaller vessels rushed directly towards the Leviathan and unleashed a great mass of torpedoes. A great surge peaked on the scanners and almost as quickly as she had arrived, the mighty enemy flagship accelerated away from the battle. A final vessel, much smaller than the rest, appeared.

“Signal coming through, it’s the Tamarisk, Sir.”

The video feed popped up to reveal the cramped bridge of the small ship with Captain Haris and Sergeant Bishop in centre view.

“Captain Haris here. Apologies for the delay, we had a slight altercation with enemy forces attacking the Yorkdale. I assume she was able to escape?”

“Affirmative, Captain, good to see you here. We understand a rogue fleet hit the reinforcements as they left the storms.”

“Makes sense. When we arrived, there were already a number of damaged ships in the area. I assumed the majority had returned to Prometheus. Glad to see some of them got through to you,” he turned to Bishop, who was trying to get his attention.

“Oh, yes. Is Admiral Jarvis there?”

“I’m here, Captain, what is it?”

“The Sergeant here has an important message for you. Permission to send a party over?”

Captain Tobler looked to the Admiral. “Send him over.”

“Understood, he will be with you shortly.”

The image slid to the side to return to the hulk of the War Barge and the increasing number of Confed ships moving into position around her. At first glance, the ship appeared lifeless, but the Crusader’s sensors were picking up hull vibrations. Every minute or so a short burst of gunfire would erupt from the hull towards the circling ships. It was light and sporadic but it did confirm the enemy still had control of some or all of the ships weapon systems. The main engines appeared heavily damaged but the manoeuvring thrusters were still functional and maintaining the vessel’s course towards the planet.

“What’s going on in there?” asked the Admiral.

“I’ve done a detailed scan of her hull. The best I can tell is most of the vibrations are coming from explosions and weapons fire on board.”

“There are only two people I know who can cause so much trouble, one of them is on the surface with the Vanguards.”

“Gun?” he asked.

“Of course. Who else would go against direct orders and cause so much noise and violence?”

She moved over to tactical display and gave a cursory look at the ship dispositions. There were now three main groups of ships. The largest group was in orbit around Euryale, this included some of the newly arrived reinforcements. Most of the warships were boarding the crippled enemy vessels following the main battle and the remaining ships were splitting off to deal with stragglers.

“How many ships have left the System?” she asked.

“The Leviathan, one damaged cruiser and four frigates. Everything else is either destroyed, boarded or crippled,” replied the tactical officer. “The Leviathan is still on the same course. If they don’t start their engines soon, they will be caught in the gravity well of Euryale.”

“Other than those on board, what is the downside?” asked the XO.

“At that distance, they will have a clear run on any transports and vessels still in orbit. They could also use their bombardment weapons against the colony. War Barges are the perfect platforms for that kind of work.”

“I want every capital ship able to move to take up positions around the Vengeance. One way or the other, they will not be entering the orbit of Euryale,” ordered the Admiral.

She turned to Lieutenant Nilsson. “Can you reach any of the crew of the Yorkdale? We need to know what is happening down there.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Admiral,” she replied, but at the same time kept pressing a series of button and keys. She was the most competent and experienced communications officer on the ship, possibly the Fleet. She turned quickly.

“I’m getting something faint, it looks like internal suit communications from personal armour. I’ll try and amplify it, give me a moment, I’ll put it on the main speakers.”

The crackle of suit communications was initially nothing but noise and spikes of volume. The expert hands of Lieutenant Nilsson quickly removed most of the distortion until a number of voices became clearer.

“Turn it up, Lieutenant.”

A random selection of words, most sounding like orders and shouting in the middle of a battle, poured from the speakers. Each of the officers listened intently, trying to understand what exactly was happening.

“Wait, I’ve locked onto one suit,” she said with triumphalism in her voice. Most of the static vanished to be replaced by the voice of man, his breathing heavy.

“Report in. Four dead, CiC still barricaded...Gun!...Gun!...What the hell!” there was more crackling followed by a series of screams and heavy gunfire.

Admiral Jarvis looked to Captain Tobler and started to speak but was cut off by more audio on the speakers.

“Gun is down, I repeat, Gun is down. We need to fall back, we can’t get inside the CiC!”

“Lieutenant, keep the channel open and record the stream, cut the speaker feed. Get me General Rivers.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Admiral Jarvis picked up the intercom and waited for the nod from Lieutenant Nilsson. It took a few seconds for the linked to be connected.

“Admiral,” came the familiar sound from the General.

“We are cleaning up the fleet in orbit. What is your status?”

“The spaceport is secure and my forces are pushing their way to the city. I have the landing platforms organised and the heavies are landing armour ready for a full frontal assault.”

“Excellent. How are your casualties?”

“The lead elements suffered badly. Anti-aircraft defences were more substantial than intel suggested. Since securing the landing zones we’ve had the upper hand. We have taken substantial prisoners, the rest are falling back to the city.”

“Any news on the city? Is it secured?”

“Yes. Captain Daniels reported in a few minutes ago. The Vanguards plus militia elements from the city have been digging in. I’ve sent reinforcements, as well as armour, to help but it’s down to whether they can clear a landing zone in time.”

“Who is doing that?”

“Spartan, he’s taken a unit of engineers to clear the site. They should be there by now.”

“Is there anything you need?”

“No, Admiral, just keep their forces off our backs and I think we’ll have this operation wrapped up in less than ten hours.”

“Excellent, keep in touch.”

“Admiral.”

She replaced the intercom handset and looked at the crew in the CiC. With the enemy ships destroyed or retreating, the urgency of the battle had vanished. With the War Barge still drifting, there was a palatable sense of fear. It was well justified. The War Barge would require the full weight of the Fleet to destroy her. Even then, the wreckage would continue to drift into orbit. The odds of the capital ship hitting the populated areas were slim, but it was a risk she wasn’t prepared to take.

“Send a signal to the Yorkdale and anybody you can reach on the Vengeance. They have twenty minutes. If they can’t move the ship then we’ll be forced to open fire.”

“Admiral. Captain Severus and the troops from the Yorkdale are still fighting on board her. If we turn our guns on the Vengeance, we could lose hundreds of warriors.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she replied with an irritable tone.

* * *

The first wave of assault shuttles swept down and disgorged their squads of marines. These were the kind of fighters Spartan had started with months before. Fast, agile and equipped with tough PDS armour and carry L48 rifles. They were the best the Confederacy had to offer and Spartan watched with pride as they fanned out around the landing zone in less than thirty seconds. The shuttles lifted off to make room for the first of the heavy Army Landers. Just one remained, probably the command shuttle that was positioned off to the right and out of the path of the following vessels. These much larger craft carried whole companies of Army units into battle, as well as armour and artillery. Less mobile and far less well trained, they were the hammer. The marines were the scalpel.

As the first of the massive vessels lowered itself onto the cleared landing zone, a great cloud of dust and debris was kicked up from the engines. It served to mask the arrival of Captain Hobbs, who appeared from the dust like an evil apparition.

“Spartan,” she said, ignoring his rank and position in the Vanguards.

He straightened himself, expecting to hear a tirade from her mouth. Before she could speak, the young Sergeant from the pathfinders stepped in front and saluted.

“Sir. The Vanguards have secured the site and we’ve mounted beacons along the perimeter, it is safe for the follow-up waves.”