Authors: Michael G Thomas
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Military, #Space Opera, #High Tech
He thought about the old worlds in Alpha Centauri. He’d never been to them, they were a long way away and unless a citizen had the funds or was in the military, you were unlikely to ever visit them. What did intrigue him was that the Alpha Centauri colonies were over a hundred years older than anything in this sector. Their planets were better developed and the military forces more substantial and capable. As expected the politics and society of the old worlds was more conservative and far less tolerant of some of the more left wing organisations and religions that had tried to flex their muscles over the years. The formation of the Confederacy some ninety-eight years ago was supposed to have removed the heavy-handed rule of the old worlds. It was to be replaced with a more open, tolerant system of mutually independent colonies held together by an agreement of law, trade and defence. At least, that was what he had learned at school. His experience in the last few years had shown him that many people in the new colonies had a strong distrust of the Confederacy or in fact anybody outside of their own colony. Quite how this affected his mission he wasn’t sure. In the end he decided to concentrate on this one job, protection of the General. He would leave the rest to anybody that could be interested.
As he tried to forget about what was to come, he then found he was unable to shake off his experiences of the combat on Prime. In the past he’d been involved in many fights, some of them for money, others to just stay alive, but nothing could have prepared him for the violence he had just witnessed. Every time he closed his eyes the sounds and smells of the battle flooded back to him. The room was dark, lit only by the dull red lights that marked the bulkhead and hatches out of the room. Opposite him the bulk of Marcus, the massive German marine he’d met months ago, was fast asleep. There were two other marines in the room but Spartan couldn’t remember their names. The events had been so extreme he was starting to lose track of people, even time. He sat up and reached out to the water canteen near the bunk. It was lukewarm but still quenched his thirst.
He had spoken in private with Marcus about the mission but he didn’t seem particularly inspired by the news. In fact he’d just listened in agreement before heading to his bunk for sleep. Spartan could only imagine either the man was exhausted or that he didn’t care where he was sent. Of all the people he knew on the ship, Marcus was the most dependable in a fight. He would have chosen Tex next if he’d been allowed more in his team, but Mathews had insisted that the bodyguard unit had to be no more than three people. In some ways Spartan felt he had been given a major honour, but if anything went wrong on Kerberos the life of the most senior marine officer in the entire sector would be in his hands.
He looked at the clock on the wall. He had another four hours before he needed to be ready to meet the General and his team to go over the final details of the operation. He considered getting up and ready before a stabbing pain in his temple told him he needed to drink more water and rest a little. One more sip and he dropped back to the bed, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
* * *
The Assembly Building was the official debating chamber for the Kerberos Colony and also one of the locations used by the Proxima Council when critical decisions had to be made. Since the founding of the Confederacy it had been used in this context only three times, even then it was just to clarify and then vote on decisions already made by the Council in Alpha Centauri based on Terra Nova. It was large and comprised of three rectangular buildings situated around a circular rotunda that lifted up above the structure. It was made of pale stone and the inside was adorned with sculptures and artworks of the birth of the colony over two hundred years ago and more recently, the Great War and the creation of the Confederacy that had followed it. The Centre Chamber, the largest occupied part of the building, was made up of three layers of seating in a wide circle, creating enough space for up to a hundred representatives. The design was intended to cope with all the colonial members from the many planets, moons and station colonies in the Proxima Star System. Normally it would be made up of the local members of the Kerberos Assembly but today it was packed with most of the sector officials or their representatives. The fighting on Prime was a terrible event. Most of the members were keen to voice their concerns and do what they could to facilitate an agreement to stop the fighting and unrest that had already torn Prime apart. There were also the unresolved issues of the secular colonies that had plagued many of the colonies for years, in one or two cases going back to the actual founding of the Confederacy after the Great War.
Inside the main Assembly Building almost a hundred people were listening to a speech by President West of Kerberos, who was also one of the three councillors from the Kerberos Colony. He had been one of the key drivers behind some kind of a peace agreement. He’d also made a great deal of the fact that the Assembly would be convened to come to a long lasting and equitable arrangement between the colonies and their respective belligerent factions. Normally the meeting would be run by the Speaker but today was a special occasion, the first to ever take place in the colony under the authority of President West. For something this important the President had needed to take personal control.
* * *
Light was fading in Yama City and as often happened the coolness of the night was amplified by the light patter of rain on the stone walkways of the new city. The city lights were garish, most coming from the downward facing street lighting. A substantial amount also came from the many lights and equipment set up by the scores of news crews and reporters that had arrived for the momentous event.
As the groups outside continued chanting, those inside prepared for the critical gathering. The leaders of Proxima’s colonies and the many other groups were still in closed session inside the massive structure. A number of video screens and speaker systems were already being erected so that the people in the rain could see what was happening inside. So far only two of the great screens were in position and although one kept crackling the second showed a clear picture of the hall. Around this display a number of at least fifty people pushed and shoved for a better look.
The cold and wet the weather seemed to do little to dampen the enthusiasm of the Kerberos citizens. The stoic members of the public stood outside the Colonial Assembly Building waving their placards and shouting in support of their representatives. Most of them outside were common citizens, many of whom toiled in the factories and industries covering the surface of the single planetary colony. Scores of them wore masks or filter tubes in their nostrils to help with the lower oxygen content of the atmosphere. Though Kerberos was one of the newer colonies it was wealthy. But the crowds in the streets appeared not to have benefited from the massive increases in trade and production in the last thirty years. At least a dozen people carried placards from the new Socialist Worker Party that aimed to improve the lot of those working in the heavy industries. They advocated common ownership and cooperative management of the means of production and allocation of resources in the colony. Another group from one of the lesser-known Disciples of Christ decried the breakdown in morality of the colonies and pushed their own arguments of piety, absolution and belief in the old idea of the Trinity.
Most of the placards complained about simple domestic matters such as job security, cuts in social spending and the profits of the mega corporations that did most of their work on the planet. One group stood out more than the rest. About thirty members of the Church of Echidna had assembled around an icon of the half woman half-snake goddess they worshipped. The icon was a bizarre fusion of monotheism and pagan mythology. It was the largest church on Kerberos but so far no religious groups had been given access to the Assembly. One man in the traditional robes of the Church pushed ahead and moved up the marble steps to the entrance of the building. Alongside him were three men in hooded robes, it was not clear who they were as their clothing covered their faces. A line of riot police blocked his path.
“You can’t come in, only Colonial and Confederate representatives,” said the officer in charge.
“I am an official representative of the Church of Echidna, our presence has been requested at the Assembly,” the man said.
The officer looked down at his datapad, checking the details of those with permission to move through the barrier. It took a few seconds and as the wait dragged on a few more of the Church members moved forward carrying the icon with them.
“I have you and three assistants on the list, you can come through,” the officer moved aside to let the man and his three assistants in.
As they moved forward the people with the icon tried to follow them into the building.
“Hey, that thing has no business in the Assembly!” shouted somebody in the crowd.
“They have the right to enter!” shouted another.
A substantial number with placards starting shouting their support for the Church followers, some even pushed ahead to help protect the icon. At the same time angry disagreements spread like wildfire through the crowd.
“Barrier!” A police officer shouted to the rest of his men.
The police responded quickly and in less than twenty seconds the loose groups of officers formed up into a tight line of armour and shields. Their state-of-the-art body armour produced full head, torso and limb protection. Each of them wore additional plating around the important joints and organs. The hardened black armour gave them the appearance of giant beetles, an impression that was reinforced by their oversized helmets. As well as providing around the head defences the helmets were equipped with drop down shoulder and neck protection against overhead blows and missile strikes. This should be enough protection against all but military grade weapons, but that didn’t stop each of them from carrying a large transparent rectangular shield. They were slightly concave to provide additional strength and rigidity, the marks and scratches along their fronts easily demonstrated their frequent use. Facing outwards the armour provided a powerful and secure barrier to protect the Assembly and the important dignitaries inside.
In the commotion someone near the icon started to scream. It wasn’t obvious who it was but a number of people starting to run about and a few fell over. Sergeant Travis, on the watch for potential problems, gave a quick hand signal to his officers. Some of them were unable to see him due to the number of protestors pushing up to the line. Already they were starting to push and shove against the armoured line.
“We have a situation at the icon, Charlie Squad secure the icon and its group. Help them inside the line,” he said into the intercom link fitted into his helmet.
Almost instantly half a dozen policemen broke from the line and surged ahead towards the icon. A few of the protestors thought they were the intended objective and tried to stop them from passing. As two of the men dealt with the immediate problem, the other four police officers pushed their way to the icon, but it was too late. With a flash the icon and a dozen of the followers disappeared. The effect was as though a massive rock had been dropped into a pond. The immediate area around the icon was engulfed in a featureless void that swiftly turned into an angry cloud of pressure and debris. The massive blast ripped through the crowd, the shockwave knocking many to the ground and sending dirt, blood and debris in every direction. Those nearest to the blast were torn to pieces and the ones just a short distance away suffered terrible wounds and burns. The blast was so powerful it managed to catch a handful of the police who were closest, even managing to rip the helmets and shields from the first two. One of the officers, a man called Harris and the oldest of the riot police, took the brunt of the blast onto his chest’s body armour. Incredibly none of the debris penetrated but the power of the blast catapulted him twenty metres through the air and into the street, where he landed hard on his back. The entire area around the building erupted into screams and shouting as people who could walk did their best to escape the scene. Their running turned to panic and in moments the scene became one of chaos.
Sergeant Travis, leader of the police unit lifted himself from the ground and wiped the dust from his visor. As he stood he found himself engulfed in a thick cloud that obscured his vision. He looked back to see one of his men on his back with a piece of metal embedded in his chest. The man had obviously died from the violent impact.
“Sergeant Travis, we have an incident here, explosive device at the Southern entrance to the Assembly Building. Officers down, civilians wounded. Need ATU and medical assistance immediately!”
“Understood, aerial medical unit inbound, ETA seven minutes,” came the reply.
The Sergeant moved along to check on the rest of his unit. Luckily the armour and shields of the men had protected them from the worst of the attack but there were still many injuries. He walked towards three of his men as one was wrapping a cloth around a bleeding wound on his leg.
“Gardner, get the rest of your squad down to the street level. We need this area cordoned off. Jenkins!” he shouted.
He waited for a moment before his redoubtable second in command appeared.