Tears of Kerberos (16 page)

She continued. “You have all been chosen for your exemplary combat and service records. You will travel as the ship’s crew and carry only civilian and black market weapons. It is your job to provide escort for the team and firepower if anything goes wrong. Commander Anderson will be in charge of the operation and you will be assisted in your task by Agent Johnson from Naval Intelligence.”

She moved the map into a wider view to show the entire sector with the burning star of Proxima Centauri circled by the many planets of the System. Each of the planets and component colonies appeared as various shades of purple, red patches showed where fighting, attacks or trouble had been reported. It was obvious was that Prime was the heart of the current troubles. Kerberos had several patches but it was also obvious it could follow in the same direction of Prime.

“As you can see, the entire System is balanced upon a knife edge and just one more major incident could create a domino effect that we will not be able to manage. Even more important is that we believe there will be no more reinforcements from Alpha Centauri, certainly not for a number of months. This means the only forces at our disposal are those already in the Proxima System.”

The room was briefly quiet before the Special Agent joined in.

“I have received additional intelligence that I will share with the team when we meet on the Tamarisk. It is of course imperative that nobody is aware of your mission or where we are going. Admiral, I must make arrangements prior to our rendezvous.”

Admiral Jarvis moved directly in front of the camera fitted to the virtual presence device.

“I will speak with you upon your arrival, God speed.”

The image on the display flickered and then vanished. The face of the Commander expanded and filled the remaining space.

Admiral Jarvis turned to the group, looking specifically at Teresa.

“A shuttle is already waiting for you. Take the C Deck, it is unmonitored all the way to the craft. Once you reach the Tamarisk and have been briefed by Commander Anderson I will speak to you again. You must take no additional items with you, no clothes, nothing of a personal nature.”

The Admiral walked towards the further wall where a number of boxes were stacked. She lifted the lid of the first and pulled out a set of overalls placing them on the table.

“There are clothes and equipment for each of you along with papers and identity chips. Do not leave this room until you have removed everything you are wearing and replaced it with the gear we have selected.”

Bishop, Kowalski and the other two marines stepped forward and started checking through the boxes. Each had their own box with everything they could imagine they might need including a spare set of clothes. Teresa joined them and was mortified to see that unlike the marines she had clothing and paraphernalia of a ship’s captain. She turned back to the Admiral.

“I, uh, don’t understand. Why?”

“It will be clear when you have time to read the full briefing pack waiting for you in the shuttle. Your background in mining and the troubles on Carthago will give you the credibility we need for a rogue trader in this part of the Confederacy.”

Teresa raised one eyebrow, obviously a little surprised at the role given to her and also a little apprehensive at the responsibility she had been granted. She turned back to the box and with a tug pulled her green vest off to put on the clothes left out for her.

A hand tapped her on the shoulder, it was Bishop who was staring at the partially clad woman. The look on his face was a mixture of amusement and also a serious reminder about the mission.

“I think you need to change everything,” he said with a wink.

Teresa looked down, realising she was wearing her issue sports bra. Like most of their gear it was a faded grey colour, much like the colour the armour and equipment of the Marine Corps was painted in. She turned her head in annoyance and then in one quick movement pulled the bra above her head. Bishop looked a little surprised and perhaps uncomfortable as he turned back to his own box.

Teresa smiled to herself, finding the whole situation rather amusing. That was until she examined the rest of the clothing, it was less than perfect.

* * *

The light started to fade and Spartan was finally able to see through a few gaps in the dust covered visor. He could make out shapes moving about and could only guess they were people. But which ones he had no idea.

“Spartan?” somebody shouted.

He strained to hear as he tried to make out the sounds. The grinding and hammering of machinery came from all around him. Then he felt dizzy, before a jarring impact made him realise he had just fallen down. He shook his head and prepared to hit the button to trigger the internal charges.

“Spartan, it’s Marcus. Are you okay?” came the voice again.

Spartan eased back on the controls, it looked like he might be alright after all. He tried to peer through the visor but he was evidently on his back and looking up at the sky. The sound of electric motors and a buzzing from his right arm confused him.

“We’re opening up the suit, hang in there, buddy!”

The buzzing sound continued until with a clunk the armour around the inside of his right arm popped open to reveal his skin to the cool air of Prime. More whines and clunks came from around the suit as the damaged sections were removed. The torso section pulled open in two parts and helping hands pulled him out of his suit and into the open air. Already his eyes were becoming accustomed to the light. The nearest was a marine, he could tell by the distinctive shape of the PDS suit.

“Holy shit, Sarge, we thought we’d lost you in the middle of the storm!” he said with obvious relief.

Spartan shook his head and looked around, getting his bearings. He was almost exactly where he had been standing when the storm him. Around the area a number of the shock troopers’ bodies were being dragged away, while other vehicles were helping to clear the rubble and masonry from the storm and battle.

“What happened? Did we win?”

Marcus moved up closer to Spartan, placing his hand on his shoulder to help stabilise him.

“Better than that, the storm was their last attempt to break the siege. We broke them on the walls and their survivors tried to escape across the plains,” he said before being interrupted by another marine.

“Escape? You kidding me, the Air Force has been bombing the crap out of the area for the last hour. Nobody is getting out of there alive,” he said with undisguised glee before turning back and continuing his work.

Spartan’s eyes were now back to normal and as he looked about the scene of the battle, he was amazed at the carnage and death. Bodies from both sides were stacked up as well as abandoned equipment and weapons.

“How is our CES platoon, Marcus?”

“Not great, I think only a couple of the units are still working, I’ll tell you what though. If it hadn’t been for them we would have broken. No way could we have held off the attack in that storm. I saw some of your guys taking on two or three of those troopers and come out on top,” he beamed at Spartan.

He turned back to see his damaged and scorched armour on the ground. There were multiple holes in the framing and some of the panels were torn from falling debris and projectile fire. He bent down and examined the visor with its many scratches and holes.

“You were lucky, if it wasn’t for that suit you would have been crushed like the three marines that were dragged down with you.”

A trio of Thunderbolt fighters blasted overhead, each one leaving a supersonic shockwave in their wake. Spartan could see the fuel tanks and extra missiles slung under their wings and they moved off to continue harassing the retreating forces.

A small group approached from the left, it was marines and civilians as well as an army officer. They were moving slowly down the line speaking to the officers and NCOs as they went. Spartan recognised Lieutenant Daniels in the middle. Like Spartan he was no longer wearing his CES suit and had reverted to the standard issue PDS. As Spartan watched them the officer noticed him and, after saying a few words to those around him, made directly for him. As he came nearer Spartan noticed he wore a bandage around his right shoulder.

“Sergeant, damned pleased to see you made it!”

He lifted his arm to salute but was stopped by a spasm of pain that sent pangs through his body.

“Sir, what happened to your shoulder?”

“Oh, yeah, my war wound!” he laughed. “In the middle of the storm part of the apartment block behind us collapsed. Some of the masonry hit our machine gun post and I took a fragment on my suit. It bloody well hurt too! I’ll tell you what, without the suit I’d be a dead man. I owe you that one.”

A man holding a satellite radio ran over to him. “Sir, I’ve got Captain Mathews for you.”

Lieutenant Daniels signalled to Spartan that he needed a moment before turning to the man and the radio. As he started a long conversation with the Captain, Spartan turned back to Marcus and two more marines who’d wandered over.

“Holy shit, you should have seen the hole that took you. Man, that was some crazy business,” said the first.

The second was pointing to a massive breach in the outer barricades.

“Just after you vanished a dozen guys came through that hole. We don’t know what they used but it blasted a hole five metres wide.”

“How did you stop them?” he asked, genuinely interested in hearing their stories.

“Well, a mix of guts, stupidity and luck! One of them had thrown a demolition charge up into our position. James here, our illustrious private, managed to grab it and tried to throw it back from his position on the OP. When he threw it the pack got stuck on the framing out there,” Marcus said as he pointed to an open space with a crater in the ground. “Luckily for us, it exploded as they came up from the breach and brought down half the structure on their heads.”

“You lucky son of a bitch!” said Spartan, now laughing at the story.

“Hey, Sergeant!” shouted Daniels from a few metres away. “You’re not going to believe this!”

“What do you mean, Sir?”

“We’ve just received word from Kerberos that a Summit has been called between the colonies of Proxima as well as with representatives from the militant organisations.”

“So?” asked Spartan who looked nonplussed.

“So?” responded Lieutenant Daniels. “The Zealot leadership has announced an immediate ceasefire while the summit takes place.”

“Ceasefire? Here, on Prime?” Marcus asked surprised.

“Yes, as of fifteen minutes ago all fighting on Prime has stopped. Peacekeeping forces from the other six colonies here are still taking away any survivors from the insurgents. We have orders to let them leave, right now we need to consolidate our hold here.”

“Am I getting this right?” asked James. “The war is over?”

“Not the war, but for now we have a break. I have orders from Captain Mathews to collect all our people and equipment for extraction in sixty minutes. Looks like we’re going home to the Cruz!”

“Back to the Cruz?” asked a surprised Spartan.

“Indeed,” Lieutenant Daniels replied with a wry smile.

Spartan looked around him, at the equipment and fires that were still burning. There didn’t seem to be much of a city left but he knew they had done well. All he could hope for now was a break from the fighting. Even a few days would be nice.

“Hey, brother, I know what you’re thinking!” said Marcus as he slapped his hand down onto Spartan’s arm. “Santa Cruz here we come!”

Two years before the outbreak of the Great War a religious controversy erupted through the colonies of mankind. The argument started with a simple schism of the Church of Man, the largest of the cults on Terra Nova. The problem was the display of icons and their use. Until the schism it was normal practice for icons to only be kept in the churches. When the Bishop of the City of Echidna declared icons could be carried by anyone the schism was formed. His martyrdom saw the birth of the new religion and the first of the religious conflicts.
 

The Iconoclast Controversy

The journey to rendezvous with the Tamarisk had been slightly shorter than expected. Even so, twenty hours in a cramped shuttle with the four marines had been a trial in itself and Teresa needed some space to move. As they reached within ten kilometres of the ship, the display at the front of the shuttle changed from the automated navigation page to a video communication relay with Commander Anderson who was already onboard.