The Last Praetorian (29 page)

Even many years later, when thinking back on their first shared
kiss, he wasn’t sure how long they stood there, so entwined, perhaps seconds,
perhaps centuries, perhaps forever.

Present Day

Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System

Several days after the senior staff meeting, Jon was
overseeing the final loading of the nondescript freighter that they had decided
to use for the assault on the Syndicate outpost.  David & Gunny had
submitted a comprehensive tactical plan for the assault of the station
including schematics and detailed timings.  Paul and Jon had spent many hours,
late into the night reviewing the plan, discussing what could and might go
wrong, refining it and preparing for various contingencies.  Finally agreeing
that any more planning would be pointless, they signed off on the plan, distributing
it to the various department heads to update their respective teams.

Now, the final stages of the plan were coming together, with
the ship being prepared and the assault teams boarding.  A loud clanking
distracted Jon from reviewing the final checklist and looking up, was stunned
at the sight of the Marine boarding party approaching.  All of the assault team
had been fitted out in Marine assault armour.  With the modern Space Marine
being expected to fight in all possible environments, from the cold vacuum of
space, to the varied environments of the different planets that consisted of
the Confederation, hence Marine armour had been adapted, until the point it had
become a completely self-encompassing environmental suit.  Totally sealed,
heavily armoured, with integrated sensors, communications and weapon
attachments it had more in fashion with a modern starship than the armour worn
by the Marines of old.  The effect was to make the approaching marines look
like a troupe of darkly armoured beetles with multiple appendages.  All of this
made the armour highly restricted, permitted only for active military personnel
and totally illegal to be in the possession of anybody else… like themselves.

“Interesting equipment Gunny,” Jon commented dryly on
recognising his bulky shape as he shuffled past.  What Marine combat armour
lost in terms of speed over the years, was more than compensated for by the
sheer firepower and protection it provided.  “You must let me know where you
came across a dozen of those suits…” after a moment’s thought Jon added.  “Come
to think of it, I would prefer that I didn’t know.”    

“You would be amazed at what you find working as a cargo
hauler,” Gunny’s voice boomed out of the concealed speakers within the suit
forcing Jon to take a step back from the blast of noise.  Trying to get rid of
the ringing from his ears, Jon wondered what it was about Marines that they had
to do everything in the loudest way possible.

“Well carry on Gunny,” Jon replied stepping aside so the
huge suits could squeeze through the airlock into the waiting freighter.  Jon
was glad he would be up on the bridge as the hold was going to be
very
tightly packed indeed. 

Ensuring that all the Marines and supplies were loaded and
secure, Jon closed the airlock and sealed it before making this way to the
small bridge on the freighter.  On arriving Jon slid into the co-pilot seat
next to Miranda who was going to be piloting the outbound leg of this journey.

“Is everybody secure in the back?” Paul inquired, as he took
the remaining seat in the small bridge.

“Sure are,” Jon replied calmly glancing over the flight
instruments to ensure the ship was ready for departure. “If the Syndicate
station personnel react in a similar fashion to me when faced with those Marines
they are going to be in for a big surprise!  Have you finished the
pre-flight?”  Jon directed the question towards Miranda.

“Yes we’re ready,” Miranda replied. “The pre-flight check
shows all systems are green and we are ready to depart.”

“Very well, let’s get this show on the road,” Jon replied
with a grin, flicking a switch to activate the communications system.  “
Terra
Nova
this is UCF1 requesting permission to depart,” Jon requested.

“UCF1?” Miranda mouthed silently to Paul.

“Under-Cover-Freighter 1,” Paul replied laughing.  “What can
I say, we have an outstanding tactical officer - who is completely useless at
thinking up code-names.”  Having received permission from C&C that they
could depart, Jon nodded towards Miranda who after ensuring that the docking
clamps had been disengaged slowly eased power to the engines and the lumbering
freighter slowly moved away from the docking ring.

With some surprise Miranda realised that this was the first
time she had left the station in a couple of months, ever since her last
disastrous flight.  She hoped that this trip would not end so badly as the last.

“What’s our flight time, Miranda?” Jon inquired recognising
the flash of nerves that had crossed her face for a brief second.

“Approximately four-and-a-half hours,” she replied, confused
at his simple question when a quick glance at the flight console would have
answered his question.  It was not until she looked up from her console that
her jaw dropped open in shock!  Instead of closely monitoring the flight
controls, which as co-pilot he should be doing, instead Jon had his feet up on
the control panel and was leaning back in his chair.

“Great,” Jon said.  “Lots of time then, so Paul how is the
family?”  Jon directed the question at his operations officer who was also
resting comfortably in his chair.

“Good thanks. We are thinking about trying for another.”

“Be good to have another addition to the crew,” Jon replied
with a grin.  “You will need to be quick if you want to be first though,” he
added. “Station scuttlebutt has our lovely pilot here getting very friendly
with a certain young communications officer…” Jon responded with a wink towards
Paul, throwing back at him his comment from a few weeks back in his quarters.

“I’m what!” Miranda replied gob-smacked.  “I will have you
know that Lieutenant Anders and I have shared a few meals to discuss…” Miranda
was so caught up in her indignant response that she failed to notice the smile
on the face of the two other occupants of the bridge.  Both were experienced
combat veterans familiar to the pre-mission nerves and satisfied that they had
managed to distract Miranda from her concerns.

*****

Almost exactly four-and-a-half hours later the external
sensors on the freighter picked up the mass of the small Syndicate station,
directly ahead.  As a well-oiled team that had frequently been in similar
positions, Jon and Paul turned back to their consoles to carefully monitor the
situation.

“We’ve been picked up by the station,” Paul calmly informed
the two pilots. “They are powering up their weapon systems and locking onto the
ship.”  Miranda visibly tensed at this piece of news, waiting for the first
shots to be fired that would result in their imminent demise. 

Jon reached over to put a hand reassuringly on her
shoulder.  “It’s nothing to be concerned about. They are just playing it safe.
I expect them to be contacting us right about…now,” Jon pointed at the flashing
light on the communication console that registered an incoming message.  “Now,
just like we rehearsed, play it cool,” Jon explained smoothly before opening a
two-way communication channel. 

The voice of the Syndicate station operator filled the
bridge.  “Unidentified ship, this is restricted space.  Identify yourself
immediately or we will be forced to open fire on you.”  With a reassuring grin
Jon motioned Miranda to respond.

“What do you mean, unidentified,” Miranda responded putting
just the right amount of outrage in her voice. “This is a scheduled cargo
transfer.  Who screwed up over there and missed this off the logs?” Miranda
demanded.  The voice from the station suddenly fell silent, as this was obviously
not the usual response of an unidentified ship. 

A few moments later another voice came on the channel,
inquiring in a calm voice.  “Please identify yourself and purpose.”

“It’s me, Miranda,” she replied hoping to whichever god that
this person recognised her as she had only been to this station infrequently, usually
shuttling whichever senior level executive was to join one of their high level
meetings, that and fending off their unwanted advances throughout the trip! 

“The ship is the
Eden
carrying replacement power
transformers.  I was just told to pilot this hunk of junk here; I was told this
shipment was expected.  Seems like somebody screwed up over there!”  Miranda
had remembered the last time she was here, that the crew were constantly
bitching about the failed power transformers, hopefully this would make the
shipment seem more believable. 

It felt like the response took an eternity coming, but in
actual fact it could not have been more than a couple of seconds before the
voice replied.  “Very well
Eden
, docking permission granted, please use
docking bay three.” Then the communication terminated abruptly. 

“They are powering down weapons,” Paul added after a few
moments checking the sensors.  “Looks like they fell for it.” Confirming the
same readings from his console, Jon nodded in agreement before turning to
Miranda.

“Take us in nice and slow and establish a hard-seal at the
docking port they described.  I assume you know which one that is?”  Jon asked
hopefully.  Miranda nodded her head in acknowledgement and started to move the
ship towards the station. 

Hitting the intercom to the cargo hold Jon ordered.  “Gunny,
David, prepare your teams.  We will be docking in five minutes.”  

*****

It was difficult to know what the crew of the Syndicate
station had been expecting upon opening the airlock from their side.  Certainly
one of the last things they were expecting was a dozen heavily armed Marines to
burst out, shouting though their amplified speakers for nobody to move.  The
maintenance crew was stunned by the sudden appearance of the Marines. They were
quickly rounded up and restrained.  Once the Marines had ensured that the
docking port was secure and safely in the hands of the security team, they
moved out into the station to secure the computer core.

Monitoring the on-going operation from the command deck of
the freighter Jon, Paul and Miranda were unable to hear the gunfire from the
station, but were able to monitor the progress of the assault team via their
internal communications system.   Hence the first indication they received that
the assault team had been detected was the shout of “Incoming!” via the
communications followed by the clatter of heavy automatic weaponry in the
background.

There had been a long discussion prior to the operation
about the weaponry carried by the team.  Standard tactics for a Marine boarding
party was to be issued with energy based weaponry, which worked in all possible
environments.  Gunny had promptly discarded this with the comment that the only
good use for an energy weapon was to cook your dinner with.  In his experience
energy weapons were heavy, bulky and had a notoriously slow rate of fire.  They
were, however, the preferred weapon for ship (or station) based combat as they
worked in the vacuum of space.

“If we end up losing atmosphere on the station, they are
screwed anyway,” Gunny commented with his usual bluntness. “The crew is going
to have bigger worries than dealing with my Marines!”  Hence Gunny had issued
all the team with projectile-based assault weapons.  These could not be used in
the vacuum of space but were deadly in the close confines of the station.

That decision turned out to be the correct one.  As the
defenders quickly found themselves pinned down by the heavy automatic gunfire
from the attacking Marines.  Their own pulse-based laser weapons with their
slow rate of fire, proved very ineffective against the heavily armoured
marines.

“How are we doing Gunny?” Jon asked conversationally.

“We’re making good progress Commander, we are nearly at the
computer core.  However, it would seem that the station security personnel have
fallen back to a last line of defence around the core, they are dug in pretty
deep.  It could take some time…”

“One minute Gunny,” the frantic waving from Paul interrupted
Jon.

“Looks like the station has started broadcasting some sort
of distress signal.  It’s heavily encrypted and the computer cannot break the
encryption but the fact that the signal is duplicated every thirty seconds
indicates some sort of automated or repeated message,” Paul explained.

“Gunny, it would seem that the station has started
broadcasting a distress signal.  Can you terminate the signal from your
position?”

Ducking back under-cover for a brief moment, Gunny reviewed
the positioning of his party and called out over their tactical frequency. 
“Jonas, Jackson get-up to communications and lay some demolition charges up
there. We need to stop that signal before somebody comes to investigate.”  With
a nod of understanding the two Marines bringing up the rear of the assault team
checked their suit’s computer for the location of the communication equipment
and after identifying the quickest path fell back from the rest of the group.

“Jonas and Jackson are on the way Commander!”  Gunny shouted
over the communication link.  Noticing that once again the station security
personnel were falling back under the withering gunfire he motioned for his
team to advance… 

*****

Several minutes later the freighter was shaken violently by a
string of explosions surrounding one of the station’s central hubs.

“The transmission has now ceased,” Paul said,
matter-of-factly, giving a cat-like smile as he peered out of the cockpit
window with a whistle. “Wow!  Those Marines sure did a number on that station.”
He added noticing the deep rents along the station where the explosives had
detonated together with a growing field of hull debris being jettisoned away
from the station.