Battle for Proxima (18 page)

“Four, is that it?”

Hobbs said nothing. Her expression was unsettling though. Spartan had seen that look before, usually from somebody who had something up their sleeves. He shrugged inwardly. All he could do was his best and just hope she hadn’t done anything stupid. He looked at the four marines, who in almost perfect synchronisation lowered their own visors and lifted their weapons ready to fight.

“Everybody else get back, we need the hall!” he barked and then lifted his arms into what looked like a fighting stance.

“Ready?”

The marines all nodded.

“Come on then!”

The four ran at him, each spaced apart by two or three metres. Spartan lowered himself slightly, his legs bent and relaxed. The first man reached him and started stabbing with the metal spear. The left arm of the Vanguard armour was reinforced and equipped with a modified excavator blade. A quick parry from Spartan easily brushed the blow aside. He swung in his right arm but had to redirect to deflect attack from the other two.

“Where is the fourth?” he growled to himself, still beating off the attacks from the marines.

Under normal circumstances he may not have noticed the movement, but something caught his eye. Glancing upwards, he saw the shadow of the last marine moving along the ceiling. The marine was above him!

“Shit!” he snarled and without thinking he dropped to one knee and rolled to the side. No sooner had he moved than the fourth man crash down next to him, missing Spartan by just a metre and slamming his heavy metal rod down to the ground.

The other three positioned themselves in a loose line. Spartan simply stood there, not moving, glaring at each of them. To one side, he noticed Hobbs, it looked like she’d signalled to someone. But he may have misread it. All four of them rushed him, each waving their weapons.

“No more messing about!” he growled.

Dropping both arms, he struck upwards and hit the first two in the chest with the tip of the arms. Both flew backwards and onto their backs, neither moved. The remaining marines kept at arm’s reach and swung for him, trying to attack the more delicate parts of the armour or possibly the face. It didn’t matter, neither was able to cause any substantial hits. Spartan pushed forward and immediately felt as though several hundred kilos of weight had just been added to his left arm. A series of alarms started flashing inside the suit. A computerised voice spoke from deep in the bowels of the armour.

“Armour malfunction, firmware overwrite. Safety protocol activated.”

One by one the computerised components shut down, until he was left with just basic motor functions and almost no power. The visor darkened as the photosensor shut down, now unable to detect light levels. Knowing that in just a few seconds he would be immobile, Spartan struck the override switch that transferred full manual control of the armour. The visor was still darkened, so he struck out with several meaty punches with his arms. They felt slow and cumbersome, his muscles strained as he moved the deadweight. Something clanged, he must have struck one of the marines.

“Where the hell is it?”

He rummaged around in the right arm, trying to find the switch that was connected to the cable override to the visor. He thought he had it, but a heavy impact on his left leg caused him to drop down and lose his position. As he hit the floor, he finally found the lever and pulled on it hard. The visor popped open, exposing his head at least allowing him to see. One of the marines was looking down at him, holding the blunt sword above his head. With a mighty effort Spartan dropped to his side and kicked out, striking the man and knocking him down.

“One left.”

Panting as though he had just run a double marathon he stood up, the malfunctioning suit still in one piece and partially operational. The final marine stood in front, the metal rod in one hand and shaking his head.

“What’s the matter? Too much work for you, Corporal?” shouted Spartan.

Not waiting for an answer, he stomped slowly forward and towards the man. Sensing danger, the final marine stepped back, looking for cover.

“Stop!” shouted Captain Daniels, who was stood off to the side with the rest of the officers and marines who were watching the bizarre matchup with interest. Spartan stopped and flicked the escape switch. The suit clunked and part of the front popped open. He pulled the release cords and dropped out of the suit and onto the floor. It wasn’t enough, Spartan straightened himself and marched towards the panicking marine. Free of the confines of the dead weight, Lieutenant Spartan felt fast and free as he moved up to within one metre of the man.

“Next time, don’t hesitate. Strike hard and strike fast. We don’t have the luxury of second chances in the Vanguards. Understood?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!”

Daniels and the others moved closer as several of the marines helped their comrades out of their dented and buckled armour.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Captain Daniels.

“That’s what I would like to know. The suit powered down and started installing some kind of subroutine.”

“How is that even possible?” asked a sceptical Captain Hobbs.

“Sir, look!” called one of the marines who was busy looking about inside the suit.

Daniels was first there, pushing his head inside the armour and examining the mass of electronics.

“What is it?”

The marine pulled his head back out from the suit, in his hand he held a mass of thick cables, each one neatly burnt and clipped.

“Part of the loom and the backup to the main power unit has been burnt right through. It couldn’t have happened in the fight. If you look here, the cut ands burn marks are too precise.”

Captain Daniels looked confused.

“What are you implying, Corporal?”

“I’m not, Sir. I’m suggesting that there are only two things that could have happened here. Either somebody must have had a blowtorch accident during maintenance or else it was left like this on purpose.”

“Blowtorch? Inside the suit!” repeated Spartan. His tone suggested he was far from convinced by the explanation.

“I agree. It does seem unlikely. Are you sure there is no external damage? A tool or weapon could have worked its way inside during the training or even regular maintenance?” asked Daniels.

“No way, Sir. I’ve just checked the area around the damage. The armour is intact, not even a scratch on the metalwork. I reckon you could take a 20mm cannon round in that plating and still walk away.”

Captain Hobbs moved closer to the suit and examined it with a cursory glance, then went back to Captain Daniels and Lieutenant Spartan.

“If you ask me, this simply shows the suit is accident or error prone. A simple malfunction or problem with maintenance, and the suit is rendered useless to all. All, but the most bestial of men,” she said looking directly at Spartan.

Captain Daniels could see and sense their hostility but appeared unwilling to try and place himself between them. He did speak up, though.

“If a fighter jet or weapon malfunctions, what does a marine do? He improvises, he overcomes. That is our mantra and one that Spartan himself aptly demonstrated. If I am not mistaken, he was able to eliminate three of the four attackers and then chase down the fourth. This was even with a barely functioning suit. I would call that a damned successful test, Lieutenant.”

Spartan stared intently at Captain Hobbs as he replied.

“Thank you, Sir. The engineers have done some excellent work on the suits.”

He then turned back to Captain Daniels.

“I don’t understand how this kind of damage could occur. I’ve been in action against heavy weapons and sustained substantial battle damage, and still not seen this kind of internal damage. I’ll get the crews to double-check the other suits for similar issues.”

Captain Hobbs started to look uncomfortable as the other two officers discussed the damage. In an attempt to steer the conversation away into another direction, she cleared her throat. Captain Daniels paused and looked towards her.

“I concede Spartan is quite capable in a physical confrontation of brawn and strength. The question is, can he do the same for his entire unit? You see, being an officer is more than just a uniform. Some of us are meant to be officers, others are better suited to other roles.”

Spartan took a half step forward, his brow tightening with tension.

“Really? Is that what you say to yourself every morning?”

Captain Daniels grabbed Spartan and dragged him away from the group.

 “Lieutenant! That is enough.”

Once they were out of earshot he spoke quietly. “You have to watch your mouth, Spartan. People like Hobbs will have your ass. She is a career officer and I promise you, she will have friends in high places. Understood?”

Spartan looked around him towards Hobbs, and then moved back.

“Yeah, I understand alright.”

Captain Daniels shook his head in frustration and moved back to the rest of the group.

“I suggest we keep the testosterone for the battlefield. There are more than enough enemies to go round for all of us.”

“I agree,” answered a jubilant looking Captain Hobbs.

She indicated to several of her junior marines to follow her. Moving towards the door, she stopped in front of the now dripping and filthy Spartan. Compared to the rest of the marines in the room, he was by far the roughest looking but also the most physically intimidating. Even the Platoon Sergeant paled in comparison to the strength and bulk of the man.

“Look at you, Spartan. Really, are you what we need? You have only just moved up through the ranks and lack some of the more, well, civilised behaviours we would expect in the Marine Corps. If you want to lead marines, you need to be more than just a man that bleeds and sweats!”

She turned smartly and headed through the door, her small group of marines following closely behind. Spartan’s face turned from calm and passive to taut anger. It was only quick intervention by Captain Daniels that stopped him stepping forward.

“Stop, you have work to do here, don’t you?”

Spartan said nothing, his face giving the Captain all the answer he needed.

“Get back to work, Lieutenant, I’ll check on you and your unit later. Understood?”

Spartan looked back at him, his face relaxing just a bit before he nodded in agreement. Captain Daniels shook his head once more, realising that it was starting to become a habit when he was around Spartan. He almost said something unkind, before the images of the fighting on Avagana came back to him. Spartan had fought hard and well and his actions had not only helped win the day, he’d also saved a good number of marines. He gave him a grim smile, not much but it was something and then made for the door. With the officers now gone, it was just Spartan and the rest of the marines who were waiting for their introduction to the armour and the unit.

“Right, now that the niceties are out of the way, I think it might be an idea to introduce myself.”

A few of the marines started to laugh and the tense atmosphere in the training hall instantly evaporated. Spartan could sense it as well. He could feel his muscles started to ease and his heart rate slowing. He took a slow, deep breath before starting.

“My name is Spartan, Lieutenant Spartan. As you may have already worked out, I have only recently been promoted to Lieutenant. I’m not the best shot, not by a long margin. What I do have, is the hard won experience of pit fighting in the arenas on Prometheus. That place has taught me many things, not least how to fight and how to defend myself in battle. This ability to fight the enemy, up close and with any weapon, is an ability I feel has been lacking on the Corps. We have the kit and the weapons, but we stand off and fight at range. Since I’ve been a marine, I’ve been in action almost continually since the overrunning of the Titan Naval Station. I have seen action in space and on Kronus, Kerberos, Prime and of course, Prometheus. The kind of fighting I’ve seen has been an equal share of firefights and close quarter combat. I’ve fought the Zealots, Biomechs, insurgents and also assholes like Captain Hobbs.”

More laughter reverberated around the hall.

“None of this really matters to you, other than for you to know one thing. I have seen these suits in action and have detailed combat experience of them. I suggest you listen carefully to what I have to say and then take it to the rest of the platoon for your first deployment.”

“Any questions before I begin?”

Three marines raised their hands.

“You!”

“Sir!” replied the nearest. “How reliable is the armour? If it breaks down in action what do we do?”

“Good question, son. The suits, especially these new improved models, are now extremely reliable. The power plants are strong and, unless you sustain damage from substantial weaponry, you should be able to stay in the field for several months before a recharge is required. As for what happens if the suit fails, well, as you saw just now the joints are counterweighted to take as much of a strain from the motors, actuators and your own muscles. Even with a failed power plant, you will still be able to move and walk. Just don’t fall over!”

Another marine lifted her hand.

“Our unit, Sir? Is it true that the unit is being officially named as the Vanguards?”

“It already is. The rest of the marines on this ship form the commandos, the best of the marines in the entire Corps. We, however, are something else. Within the battalion, the Vanguards are to be the new elite assault unit. Our name tells you exactly what we are designed for. Expect to drop into combat and then to fight back out. A day will come where I suspect we will conduct operations completed unsupported; that day will come when our numbers are sufficient.”

The third and final marine raised his hand.

“Why are you called, Spartan, Sir?”

Spartan smiled at him. “Because that’s my name!”

He turned around and looked back to the suit he had been wearing for the demonstration. Waving his hand, the rest of the marines approached and formed a loose circle around the armour.

“I’ll go over the basics of the suit with regards to combat. The first thing to know is how to get in and out of the damned thing as quickly as possible. In an emergency you will need to be able to get in, strapped down and powered up fast. On the flipside, if there is trouble and you need to abandon the suit, you need to get out even faster. Don’t forget, there is a built-in explosive self-destruct unit on every suit. Don’t trigger it by mistake. Now, who is going to volunteer to get in the Vanguard armour first? I want the fastest possible time.”