Tears of Kerberos (6 page)

In the distance Spartan could see the cracks and holes in the ground where the creatures were coming from. It was easy to see why the Air Force had botched up the defence of this segment of the city. By staying underground, the enemy had avoided the bombs and emerged right inside the perimeter of the city. They must have been planning this for months. He turned to the left and then the right, calculating their numbers to be at least two hundred with more still climbing out from the rubble. The rest of the CES units had followed his example. They crashed hard into the enemy line where they had blunted the assault. Great streaks of flame poured from the weapons as they did as much damage as they could as quickly as possible. The lighter armed commandos moved forward and took up positions in the rubble.

Something grabbed at his left leg and as Spartan looked down he saw Lieutenant Daniels approaching. He kicked a creature away before tearing it apart with his linked rifles. Scores of the creatures rushed forward as more continued to crawl out from the rubble. Spartan spotted one trying to get past him and slammed the cutting blade on his left arm into the thing’s head. It was neatly slashed off, the body slid down in a mushy mound of gore.

 
“You okay, Sergeant?” asked Lieutenant Daniels.

Another two creatures leapt at Spartan. Just as they reached within inches of his suit, he pulled the trigger and blasted both of them to shreds of flesh.

“All good here, Sir,” Spartan replied as the smoke flittered away.

Fire from a hundred metres away started to hit their positions. One round struck Spartan’s visor, jolting him back. As the fire continued most of the commandos and the original defenders dragged themselves behind any cover they could find. Spartan examined the enemy positions ahead and quickly found the dozens of enemy troops firing their weapons. Around these fighters were scores of the shock troops, each one staying low to the ground as the small arms battle continued. One of the troopers stood up and waved something in the air. Spartan tried to get a better view on his display when he saw a smoke trail rushing through the air.

“Get down!” he shouted on the radio.

He looked around but the size of his suit prevented him from doing any more than just lowering himself. The missile struck one of the CES units further down the line and impacted in the centre of its torso. With a great flash the unit exploded, probably aided by the large amounts of ammunition fitted on its back. The explosion and shockwave hit those nearest to it as the smouldering wreckage crashed to the ground.

“Here they come!” Marcus shouted.

From the craters and gaps in the ground a great horde of the enemy climbed up and rushed en masse towards the loose defensive line the marines had established. The charging mass continued to fire their weapons, as they moved more rockets and missiles blasted the line to strike the defenders. The power of the L48 rifles was impressive and each large calibre round stopped a man in his tracks. With the special ammunition they were capable of armour piercing or exploding at set distances. Flashes and bursts ripped from the line as their gunfire did its work.

 
Spartan locked his armoured feet firmly on the ground, lifted his cutting blade and proceeded to add his own fire to the battle. He was aware of the strengths and limits to the suit but right now he could operate as a stable, armoured fighting platform. Aiming carefully he fired short bursts, each one knocked back two or three hostiles. Some of the enemy had actually made it to the line and he could see several marines stabbing back at them with bayonets as they continued to fire. He fired a long burst along their front line but they kept coming. Two creatures leapt through the air towards him as more appeared at a ruined building to the right. He slashed at the first one and its mutilated body crashed into his armoured head, knocking him backwards. The second one landed on his weapon arm and started to hack at him with a hardened metal weapon that looked like an axe. The impact forced him back and with a grinding screech he collapsed to the floor. As he hit the ground he flailed out with his arms and legs, desperately trying to keep them off him. Five marines rushed over and added their own fire to the action and managed to clear them off Spartan before his suit was torn open. He rolled over and lifted himself up to see the enemy were falling back to cover.

“All unit commanders report in,” came the voice on the comms network again.

The audio channels were filled with chatter as each company and platoon commander reported their current status. Spartan noticed that over half the units had been hit hard in that first assault.

“Sergeant, we lost five CES units in that attack. At this rate we’ll be out of marines in less than thirty minutes,” said Lieutenant Daniels over the secure line.

Spartan was about to reply when an urgent message came in from the monitoring ships in orbit.

“This is General Rivers. We’re picking up comms traffic that New Georgia is sending forces to help liberate Carlos from our forces. The other five colonies are still debating but it looks like Avagana is on its own for now. We’re sending five companies of reinforcements to the Southern perimeter, ETA forty minutes.”

“Lieutenant Daniels here, we need immediate air support, Sir, the front line is fracturing and casualties are heavy!”

“I know, we’re monitoring the action from here. They are throwing everything they have in the South. If you can hold until relieved we will have a chance. I’ll have ground support with you in less than ten minutes, good luck, Marines,” he said as the radio unit clicked off.

Bullets and missiles continued to pound the line but for now it looked like the enemy were content to pour fire into the defenders, rather than risk another full frontal attack. Though it looked less decisive their greater numbers were slowly taking their toll with the sheer weight of bullets.

“Sir, we have to get out of this fire, we’re getting creamed!” Marcus shouted.

Spartan looked around their position, instantly spotting the many dead commandos and a number of the CES units burning or heavily damaged. Another missile streaked across the battlefield and slammed into the arm of a unit, the blast tearing it off but leaving the unit still standing and operational.

“Maybe the suits weren’t such a great idea, they’re sitting ducks!” said Daniels bitterly.

“You’re both right,” said Spartan as he quickly assessed the situation. “If we stay here we die. These suits are designed for close-up work, in this kind of firefight we’re not going to last long.”

“I take it you have a suggestion, Sergeant?”

“Yes, Sir. I suggest the commandos stay here and provide covering fire, the CES units should advance and assault their positions.”

“Assault their positions? You mean a full frontal attack against greater numbers?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, he’s right. We’ll be much safer the closer we are to them,” Marcus said.

The Lieutenant considered Spartan’s proposal, though he knew in his heart that their options were limited. Either they stayed on the line until there was only a handful left, they retreated or they moved forward. If they stayed the enemy would assault them again when their numbers were lowered sufficiently.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Daniels said as he checked along the line. He wasn’t completely sure it would work but any action was better than waiting to die. He called his units on the tactical net.

“CES units, on my mark you will advance to the enemy, everybody else keep your heads down!”

Two of the units turned to look towards the Lieutenant, surprised at the order to advance in such adverse conditions. Both of them were splattered with blood and scratches ran along the sides of the armour. Lieutenant Daniels suit was painted differently to the rest and distinctively marked with tiger strikes on the lower body. The defending marines kept up a withering fire on the enemy but it was clear a change of tactics was in order. Small groups of the units emerged from what little cover they had found and moved towards open ground. As they prepared for the attack plinks of small arms fire bounced off their thick armour.

“Watch for friendlies out there!” shouted Spartan as he surveyed the assembled platoon.

They looked impressive, each machine a great lump of hardened metal. The battle had already taken its toll and of the entire platoon, only twenty-nine of the armoured suits were still operational. The rest were either destroyed or immobilised.

“Follow me!”

Spartan jumped down from the piled up debris and onto the rough open ground that separated the two sides. As he moved ahead the rest of the ragged line of machines went forward as fast as they could. More rockets and bullets blasted past and a freak missile destroyed at least one unit. Continuing on they fired long bursts to keep the enemies’ heads down. Incredibly they made it across the open space with no casualties, although all the suits had sustained a level of damage. Spartan and Daniels hit the enemy front line almost simultaneously. With frenzied savagery they smashed and hacked their way through the shock troops and Zealots alike. As the rest of the platoon arrived it became clear that this was the perfect battleground for the armour. The shouts and screams from both sides were drowned out by grenades and the fire of weapons.

The battle to hold New Carlos was well under way.

Prometheus was the most unusual and certainly the most dangerous planet in the entire Confederacy. Being the closest planet to the sun it was uninhabitable and no attempts were ever made to sustain life. It was however a rich and valuable source of iron and heavily mined for its resources. Reinforced and shielded ships ploughed their way to the planet and through the Proxima System carrying their wares. What made Prometheus even more deadly though were the terrible storms that forced vessels to take an indirect approach to the fiery world. Risking the storms was tantamount to suicide.

Birth of Prometheus

It was almost midnight on Kerberos yet the lights from the buildings still cast a dull glow across the street and over the nearest buildings. It was a wide road with good access for the many large vehicles that ploughed their way around the colony with their raw materials and goods. At this time of night, when the air became cooler, it could become difficult to breathe. Special Agent Johnson pulled a small cylinder from his pocket and inhaled a mouthful of oxygen. He tried to keep it to a minimum but after all this time waiting outside he was starting to feel the strain. He had been assigned a colonial ATU team for protection and he was acutely aware they were getting tired waiting for something to happen. Normally he would have made use of local police units but this was part of a large operation spread across the city. Officially he worked for Yama’s Special Crimes Division but was in fact an agent for the Confederacy’s top-secret Naval Intelligence Department. He had been contacted directly by Admiral Jarvis with special orders from Naval Intelligence to keep this operation secret.
 
It had never happened before and therefore told Johnson that this raid was much bigger than anybody realised. He’d left the headquarters two hours ago along with three other teams on similar operations.

Kerberos was becoming a troublesome place with so many companies, organisations, unions and religions all vying for power to the detriment of each other. Even the team he was assigned with had the feel of a group that might just as easily stab him in the back rather than help him. The Confederacy was very important to Johnson. It provided him with a career and a purpose in a troubled part of the colony. Though he kept hearing negative press about the organisation, all he had seen were people trying to help and keep the people safe and secure. Something very big and very important was going on tonight and Johnson was determined he would find out what it was.

One of the street lights flickered and he pulled back into the shadows to keep out of sight. The three other ATU agents with him were each trying to be as discreet as possible. Johnson lowered the night vision on his helmet so he could monitor the movement of their suspects as they moved down the street. The intelligence from their contact said that a new terrorist cell was expected to meet one of the many industrialists on the planet with links to the Zealots. If true it could indicate a growing alliance between important figures on Kerberos and the religious insurgents throughout the Confederacy. The industrialist was already in the club and being watched by their contact, though he was disappointed to find they had no audio or visual feeds into the building.

“Suspect is using his comms gear,” came the voice of his contact on the inside.

“Understood,” said Johnson quietly.

The team had been waiting for over an hour for this meeting to take place. With the trouble on Prime threatening to travel off-world the success of their mission was even more critical. Johnson was busy thinking about the many different permutations of what was going on when a small black car arrived. It was unmarked and as it stopped outside the building another pulled up behind it. Johnson whispered into his headset.