Slaves of Hyperion (Star Crusades Uprising, Book 6) (26 page)

“Ah,” he said, almost to himself.

Spartan walked up and looked where he was pointing.

“What is it?”

“
Commander Petersburg
. He’s the weakest link in the entire fleet. He’s second in command of the flagship and has a history that is well known in the Navy. Experienced, skilled, and rated at the top of his class in the Academy, yet he’s managed to avoid open battle every single time.”

Major Daniels rubbed his cheek as he considered the comments.

“I’ve known good men, good officers that by a stroke of luck managed to avoid combat. Sometimes it’s intentional, but most of the time it isn’t. How does this help us? We still don’t know what they did or how they stopped so many systems from working?”

Admiral Churchill didn’t seem particular impressed with their thoughts even though they were perfectly justified. He brought back the map of the planet. With the press of two buttons, it zoomed into one particular part of the world.

“We know this was the source of the ground fire. I suspect there is a base or site of some kind being used by the enemy. Controlling Hyperion requires total domination of the space around the planet. Our priority is to disable the weapons on the planet. Once this is done, we can send in one ship at a time to establish what power or strength the enemy has.”

Major Daniels seemed a little happier at this first suggestion.

“My ground troops have been training for days now, and Spartan and his Jötnar have practiced over a dozen scenarios from frontal assault and hostage rescue through to hand-to-hand with Biomechs. They are ready for whatever you want them to do. We’re packing five companies plus change.”

“How about your Vanguards?” asked Admiral Churchill.

Major Daniels nodded at the question.

“Just half a platoon, I’m afraid. There wasn’t time to transfer the gear from Terra Nova. Also, most of the men trained up on the gear are training other units. Still, sixteen is better than none, and they are all experienced.”

All three looked at the map and the flashing zones around the suspected weapon emplacements. He then brought up an additional monitor that showed the ANS Tamarisk. Admiral Churchill waited a little while longer as he examined the details before him. As the senior officer, he was responsible for commanding the Taskforce but had also been given tactical command of the ground operation.

“My plan is simple. The fleet will move in to a position not far from where ANS Minotaur made first contact. We know this location is clear from both weapons fire and communication blocking. This is our operating zone, and no vessel will leave it unless it meets our agreed criteria.”

He placed his finger on the display and drew a circle around the point in space he had selected. He pointed back to ANS Tamarisk.

“When in position, ANS Tamarisk will advance into medium orbit and drop a strike team down to a position near the ground batteries. It will be small and include the most experienced Special Forces and technical crew to the surface.”

Major Daniels shook his head in disapproval.

“Admiral, I appreciate the need to disable their systems, but dropping troops directly onto their weapon position? That would be suicide, Sir. They will detect the ship in orbit and probably destroy it before it can launch shuttles. We’ll be dead before we get through the atmosphere.”

The Admiral shook his head, and Spartan watched as he pointed out several of the more unusual features of the ship.

“No, not quite. The Tamarisk is the most advanced special operations vessel we have. It’s taken over a year to fix the damage she sustained during combat at Prometheus. She has the best computers, including an active intelligence countermeasures suite that should help if they attempt to take control. Even better though, she carries a complement of three black ops shuttles. After her last mission, she was enlarged to carry more troops and equipment. You know the shuttles; they were developed for dropping teams into combat undetected. Each one can carry eight fully armoured marines into battle. After re-entry, you should be able to land before their systems can lock on and track you. Unless they are looking in the exact spot, you should be able to land undetected.”

Spartan liked the resources available, but the intelligence from the surface suggested a site that could contain thousands of warriors and unknown weapons and counter-measures.

“Admiral, twenty-four marines against their entire operation?” he said incredulously.

Even Major Daniels looked less than inspired at the idea. He looked at the Tamarisk and her layout with interest. He’d heard rumours of the ship, but following the fighting at Prometheus, most had been classified.

“This ship, what’s so special about her? Won’t they just attack as before?”

At that comment the Admiral smiled.

“No, she is our trump card. The Tamarisk is a heavily modified transport. She matches the specification and configuration of a light transport that is still registered. Even a close scan at fifty metres won’t reveal her extra armour, computer equipment or weapons.”

“She’s armed?” asked the Major.

The Admiral simply raised one amused looking eyebrow at his question. He tapped a key that altered the schematic to show the cargo containers spread around the hull. Inside each one were batteries of weapons. She might look like a civilian transport, but she had been heavily modified into what was known by the military as a ‘Q’ ship. Hinged plates covered the weapons that were hidden in the containers, and additional armour had also been installed. In reality, she had the firepower to take on a ship of the same size, possibly even larger; even more importantly, she had surprise on her side when moving into hostile areas of space.

“Nice,” explained Spartan as he read the details. He was very familiar with the ship but had no idea she was quite as tough as the information revealed. Admiral Churchill turned away from the displays and looked at each of them.

“I will leave the operation of the ground phase of the battle to Major Daniels. Just understand that until the ground-based weapons are disabled, I will not be able to commit Santa Cruz and the five companies of marines and Terra Novan Guards. I suggest you pick the best force you can for the operation. Reinforcements will be waiting for instant insertion onto the battlefield. The cavalry will be ready, but when they come in will depend on you.”

* * *

“Contact!” came the radio message on Teresa’s internal communications unit. Although her visor was up, she was still finding it tough to get used to the air on the planet. Those with breathing conditions, especially three of the crew with asthma, were forced to reply on the oxygen scrubbers and masks all the time.

“Watch for reinforcements. We don’t move in until we know this is the lot of them.”

The rest of her ASOG troop kept low, training their weapons on the small party of people moving towards them. As they came into view, she instantly recognised the robes of the Zealots. She’s seen them enough times before, and it took a great deal of self control to not squeeze off a few rounds there and then.
Their level of indoctrination always amazed her, and as they moved closer, she again wondered what could possibly drive them to do the terrible things they did.

“Something else is coming, a machine,” said Sergeant Lovett who was position thirty metres off to her right and protecting their flank. Teresa turned her head slowly to check that direction and spotted the machine as it came within ten metres of their position.

What the hell is that?

It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Standing almost five metres tall, it had the shape of a four-legged beast, yet was obviously mechanical. It moved with subtlety and poise that was nothing like the autonomous drones used by the marines for resupply and fire-support. On its flanks was a pair of pintle-mounted firearms of an unknown configuration. Its head was shaped into a metallic wedge with cameras and antennae facing in multiple directions.

Don’t come any closer!

A shout from behind the scout party drew the attention of the machine. It twisted around with lightning speed. The cameras on its head swivelled like an insects eyes, and the weapon mounts tracked in the direction the sound. Two of the Zealots ran back to pursue whatever it was, but the machine was faster. Without hesitation, or offering a warning, it fire a quick burst of gunfire into the jungle. An inhuman scream of pain was silenced by yet another burst. The Zealots ran off into the darkness, and behind them followed the hellish machine. After they had moved away, she lifted her body up but only by enough so that she could see the direction they had head in.

“Follow them but stay back. I don’t want to have to fight that thing, not yet!” she said in a firm but measured tone.

The ASOG unit of eight men and women moved out in a loose line to follow the Zealots and their mechanical ally. Teresa was positioned in the centre of the unit. One of her experienced corporals pushed further to the front to take the point position. It was slow work, made difficult both by the thick foliage and also the need to stay hidden and undetected. A quick look at her map showed they were now over six hours from the compound and still moving.

They’d better take us somewhere useful,
she thought optimistically. The last thing she wanted was to spend days instead of hours traipsing through the jungle while following a deadly beast.

* * *

The compound was almost in pitch darkness, save the odd light from burning torches that ran around the perimeter or at the entrances of most of the shelters. A decision had been made early on to keep the lighting to a minimum, so as to avoid unwanted attention. Even so, the place was still busy with two more six-man units preparing their gear to continue to map out the area around them. Captain Carlos stood outside the entrance to the designated command shelter and saluted at the approach of General Rivers.

“Any news from the scout teams?” asked
the General.

“Just one,” he answered, indicating the General to step inside.

Inside the dark interior, the setting transformed from one of spartan surroundings, woodland and nature to one of electronics, mapping equipment and stored weapons. Two Navy crewmen were busy monitoring the communications equipment while supervised by Lieutenant Nilsson. She saluted the approach of the two senior officers.

“I’ve just received another message from Sergeant Morato. She says her unit is tracking a Zealot scout party plus a machine.”

“Machine?” asked General Rivers.

Lieutenant Nilsson handed over a military grade datapad device that showed a grainy but detailed image of the four-legged contraption. He looked at it for a few seconds before handing it to the Captain.

“Any information on what exactly it is? Something like our autonomous resupply mules?”

“Not likely, General, look at the sensors on its front and the weapon mounts. I’d say this is some kind of scout machine, possibly a sentry.”

General Rivers looked unimpressed.

“Autonomous?”

“Unknown, General.”

“I see,” added General Rivers. He then moved over to the scruffy looking map that contained as many revisions as it did actually information. Their compound was clearly marked in the centre, and a number of blocks were positioned to represent each of the scouting parties. Sergeant Morato’s ASOG unit was the furthest out by a considerable distance.

“How far out are they now?”

“Uh, about six kilometres so far, and the enemy force is apparently still moving.”

The room flickered slightly as if a strobe light had just been flashed outside. It was followed by another half a dozen before the sound of loud, rolling thunder rippled through the compound.

“Great, that’s all we need,” said Captain Carlos.

Almost immediately, a torrential downpour of hailstones hitting the roof greeted his words. General Rivers shook his head at the arrival of the bad weather.

“Lieutenant Nilsson. I want to know the minute you hear anything new.” He turned to the Captain of the marines.

“Captain Carlos. Get a team out and double-check this site for rain protection, especially the walls. We don’t want flooding. I need our supplies and gear dry and ready for combat. We don’t know how much longer we are going to be here.”

* * *

To Teresa it seemed as though they had been following the machine and its Zealot companions for weeks, but it had barely been a whole day. Slogging through the dense foliage was only made bearable by the fact that the machine itself had created a loose trail for them to work through. The weather had finally turned against them with over seven hours of torrential rain. Luckily, it had now has eased off for a few hours, but with dawn just breaking, the trickle of rain had returned and storms threatening to follow. It was proving to be an exhausting and miserable patrol.