The Centauri Confederacy at its height consisted of three star systems, scores of colonised planets and hundreds of moons. The first to be colonised was Alpha Centauri, two stars, and after decades of exploitation, it had become the industrial and commercial heart of the confederation. The Proxima Centauri was the next major system to be colonised by humanity following the great expansion but also the greatest in terms of population and development. The jewel of the system was the planet named Prime, the largest planet in the Confederation. Colonised in the image of old Earth it was the most populous planet and boasted a lifestyle that centuries before would have been idealised as the utopian dream of plenty.
Proxima Prime
The rec room was packed as the recruits spent their limited free time relaxing and chatting before moving on to yet another drill or exercise. The room was about twenty metres long and contained chairs, a few tables on one side and a set of computer displays. A steady batch of recruits took turns to make use of the time to contact loved ones or simply chat to anybody other than the same faces they saw every day.
Spartan, Jesus, Marcus and Teresa were sitting around one of the tables. Marcus and Jesus were arguing whilst the others looked on in amusement.
“Bullshit, little man.” Marcus laughed as he spun his computer tablet in front of him. “No way can a man in this old metal armour be able to move and fight like that, no dammed way!”
Jesus waved his hand and brought up a video sequence showing a man in a substantial metal suit of armour. He was covered from head to toe and wielded a huge sword that was almost as tall as the man himself.
“Look, it says here the armoured knight could fight on foot or horseback and that the sword was well balanced, agile and could even be held in the middle when fighting armour,” said Jesus.
“Look, you put that much metal on a man and all you can do is just stand there and not get hurt. I’d bet good money that most of that gear is ceremonial shit, nothing to do with combat.”
Teresa frowned at them both before turning to Spartan.
“You’ve used more armour than anybody else, what do you think?”
Jesus spun the tablet around so Spartan could get a good look at the armour. He examined it in detail, moving the image around so he could see it from all sides and even zooming in to look at the thickness.
“Yeah, it could be done,” he said dismissively.
“Ok, genius, would you like to expand on that?” asked a dubious Marcus.
“Not really,” said a grinning Spartan.
“So we should just take your word for it then?”
“You should, Jesus, but something tells me you’re not going to.”
“Come on, man, tell us why you think this huge lump of metal is anything more than some fancy outfit for a rich dude.” Jesus said as he settled back into his chair.
“Don’t make the assumption that just because this gear is old it wasn’t designed for a purpose. Some armour is ceremonial, other is for combat and some armour fits somewhere in the middle. Armour has been used since biblical times and we’re still using it today.”
“Nice speech, granddad. Is that it?”
“Alright, Marcus, if you insist.” He took in a lung full of air.
“Look at the armour first of all. Yes, it has embellishments but not overly so. The joints are in the same places we have for our personal armour. The thickness of the metal is much less than you would expect for something designed to protect your body. Look at the fluting, the angles and the extra plating to protect the joints. See the vulnerable gaps, like the armpit, there’s extra flexible chainmail. This is the work of a man, maybe many men that are expert craftsmen and experts in their trade.” He moved away from the image and then displayed another similar suit of armour.
“Look at this one. It is a little later and much less ornate. The description here says it’s munitions grade armour. That is basically the equivalent of the kind of stuff we have. Note all the joints and plates are in the same place. Yes, the metal isn’t as pretty and it doesn’t have the fancy fittings, but to all intents and purposes it does exactly the same job.”
“Yeah, so you say. But what about in practice? Can you move, duck and cut with a weapon wearing that.”
“Why not, Marcus? When I was fighting we used all kinds of armour. Back then it was just as important to put on a good display as it was to protect parts of the body. When you are fighting for your life you will push yourself further than at any other time. Yes, armour and padding will slow you down and wear you out, but you practice as much as possible to reduce the problem. I’ve worn body armour that probably weighed a lot more than anything you’ve shown me there. As for that weapon, look at the blade and at the craftsmanship. Don’t assume for a moment that it wasn’t a deadly weapon.”
He leaned back with a look of self-satisfaction. Teresa smiled but added nothing as she watched Marcus and Jesus for their reactions.
“Yeah, if you say so. The weapon, come on, no fucking way!” Marcus said.
“In my experience weapons are very much designed around the kind of enemy you expect to face. If you’re fighting unarmoured people then something that can cut will work fine. If they are wearing thicker clothing or armour you’ll need something that is better for penetration. A spear point will pierce armour more easily than the edge of a sword, also don’t forget,” he added before being interrupted.
A loud sound came from the end of the room followed by a commotion as though somebody had just dropped something valuable. Spartan instantly stopped talking and turned to the direction of the noise.
“Hey, have you seen this?” came a cry from the end of the rec room.
A number of the recruits started to move to the end with just a few of them staying where they were. One woman waved her hands as she accessed visual feeds and then moved a selection to the entire section of the shorter wall. The video feeds split up into one large view plus a dozen smaller ones, all showing the latest news feeds. Spartan and Teresa joined them, Jesus stood up on his chair to look over the crowd. With the amount of noise from the recruits Spartan couldn’t make out the voice on the report. He moved closer, brushing aside the few people not listening.
“The fuckers have captured Titan Naval Station! They are saying it is another Pearl Harbor!” shouted one of the men excitedly.
“No way, man, that’s bullshit!” replied another.
“Who?” Yet another shouted.
“The Zealots, they’ve done it this time, they’ve hit the biggest naval station in the sector! How the fuck can we get to the planet if they’ve taken control of Titan?” cried a tall man in the middle of the crowd.
Spartan was now close enough and could see the story for himself. The video showed the massive base, along the top and bottom the scrolling ticker detailed facts and figures. The first to catch his attention was that it confirmed terrorists had captured the loading station and dock. Even more worrying was the section that explained how three transports, one of them a massive cargo vessel, had been crashed in a massive suicide attack on the naval facilities there crippling several vessels, as well as destroying much of the marine barracks.
“That’s our biggest station in the system. Last I heard there were about two million people there,” Spartan said.
“Not just the people, that’s the home of the local fleet, it’s our drop-off point in less than a month for fuck’s sake. They’re saying the terrorists have crippled the Resolution and taken control of Victorious, that’s a fucking battleship, man!” Someone called out.
“That isn’t possible,” said Teresa, “no way could a ship that big be taken over by half-trained terrorists.”
She turned her tablet around and brought up a rotating image of the warship. Along the one side were columns of data. “Come on, it says there are always at least three hundred marines on board the Victorious as well as her crew.”
“Maybe they had help from the inside?” suggested Jesus.
“There must be other ships in the area!” Marcus suggested.
Spartan moved nearer to one of the secondary displays and scrolled though more stories. His heart was pounding because one thing experience had taught him was that when things went wrong, they usually ended up on his lap. On the second screen, he had the official information from Naval Intelligence that confirmed much of what was in the news. It was incredible. He took a few breaths before turning back to Marcus and Teresa. As he started to speak a number of the other recruits crowded in to listen.
“The latest Intel confirms that the fighting on Proxima Prime has expanded to the eleven transit stations and that a full scale rebellion at the Titan Naval Station is underway. One Admiral has either been assassinated or may be involved. The shipyard was hit first, then the garrison. A dozen ships escaped but several warships are unaccounted for and they are holding over one thousand military personnel hostage on the Station.
“What about the civilians?” asked one of the recruits.
“Some managed to escape on freighters and ferry vessels but most are still trapped there.”
“No way, man, no fucking way!” Jesus was watching the burning buildings on the main screen. The volume was turned up so they could hear the story from the reporters at the scene.
“Three hours ago over a dozen co-ordinated attacks in the capital destroyed the parliament building and the central stock exchange. Fires are still burning at the headquarters of the Council Chambers,” said the voice.
“Fuck me, did you see the residential zone?” asked Teresa.
Jesus stepped to one of the small feeds and moved back to the cameras pointing into the residential area. On this part of the city were scores of tower blocks, some reaching nearly two hundred metres tall and featuring beautiful spires pointing up in the sky. One of the buildings was ablaze and the top third of another had collapsed. The ticker along the bottom said over eight hundred people were trapped in the burning building.
As the recruits watched a series of additional explosions ripped across the city as more buildings were hit until columns of smoke and bright flashes could be seen in all directions. Overhead a multitude of rescue craft rushed around, landing on buildings to evacuate people while others were trying to fight the fires.
The door to the room opened and in walked the Drill Sergeant. The recruits all stood to attention though nobody remembered to switch off the displays. He marched in, flanked by two of his men. As he moved along the room he stopped and stared at the displays, the glow of the fires reflecting on his face before he gave a hand gesture to his two marines. They moved forward and deactivated them, throwing the area into silence.
“You have all seen we are in a real situation here. As of one hour ago the insurgents on Proxima Prime announced their intentions to spread a holy war through every moon and colony in the Confederation. So far it has spread to most of the cities on the planet and three Titan Stations, including Titan Naval Station. This is serious shit, if Confed doesn’t respond fast we could be cut off from Proxima Prime and that leaves the civilians completely exposed.”
One of the marines at his side passed him a tablet that was glowing with scrolling data and images. He looked at it and then at the recruits.
“As of fifteen minutes ago Confed military forces have been put on full alert. This policing action has been officially designated a warzone and we are in the damned middle. The Zealots have been declared enemy combatants and we are authorised to use all weapons and forces at our disposal to end this emergency, once and for all! Today is the first day of the Proxima Emergency and we will see it through to the end!”
Several of the recruits cheered but most were silent, waiting for the rest of his news, each convinced that there was something much bigger and much worse waiting for them.
“When you joined most of you were going to end up on the front lines fighting on the northern continent of Prime. It was supposed to be the last stronghold of this bastardised radicalised movement. We’ve been treating this as a glorified policing action to keep the civilians calm and the politicians happy. Bullshit! It hasn’t worked and now it is spreading fast. We were wrong, seriously wrong,” he said ominously.
He started to pace in front of the assembled Marines.
“We should have learnt our lesson from the last war, religion and politics breeds problems. You all know what happened with Carthago and Terra Nova don’t you?”
The recruits fidgeted, uncomfortable at the question and not one lifted their hands. The Drill Instructor looked as though he was about to blow a fuse when Teresa spoke.
“My family are from Carthago, Sir.”
He marched up and stopped directly in front of her, examining her carefully from head to toe.
“Name?”
“Recruit Teresa Morato, Sir!”
“Tell me, what do you know about the last war? Who started it?”
“I, uh, I don’t know, Sir. It was something to do with colonisation of Proxima I think.”
The Drill Instructor appeared to relax slightly in front of the marines.
“Exactly. The problems started when the two largest colonies, the conservative farming planet Carthago and the industrious Terra Nova, disagreed on colonising Proxima. The arguments were long and complicated but it ended with their friends and allies fighting though the System. This has happened many times in the past. The main factions sit back and let their allies do the work until one day, when the tide starts to turn, the two big players have to wade in.”
“Tell me, Recruit Morato. How would you describe Carthago today, after all the years of war and strife?”
“It is a poor planet. Most of the cities were levelled in the Great War and many are still in a bad way. There are frequent terrorist actions and it is the most violent colony outside of the stations around Prometheus.”
“What about religion?”
“Most are underground and meet in secret. The major sects were banned or abandoned the colony during the exodus after the war.”
The Drill Instructor stood upright and looked around the group for anyone else.
“Who has been to Terra Nova?”
Several hands went up and like a lurcher he moved in to one of the nervous looking men at the back.
“Name?”
“Recruit John Jenkins, Sir.”
“You look pretty, you a Doctor or something?” he asked sarcastically.
“My family run a factory on Terra. I studied there before enlisting, Sir.”
The Drill Instructor shook his head in despair.
“Look what my beloved Corps has been forced to turn to. Tell me, Recruit Jenkins, what is Terra Nova like?”
“It is the richest and most cosmopolitan colony in the Confederacy. There are people and money and all kinds of opportunities.”
“Religion?”
“It is practiced but not the same as on Carthago. It is more of a meditation circle or social club on Terra. The old religions of Carthago are thought to be barbaric and ancient, religions for the common, bestial man.”
The Drill Instructor nodded in agreement.
“There you have it. Even today we have different people, different values and religion is at the core. The biggest mistake we made was driving the old religions underground. Now we can see they are stronger, more numerous and violent than before. Look at Terra Nova. Peaceful, soft and rich while the angry and backward world of Carthago continues to rot. This is the world you are about to face. It is cruel and full of intolerance. You will be Marines and you will uphold the traditions and values of the Corps and the Confederacy that thousands died to create. Do you get me?”
“We get you Sir!” came the chorus back to him.
He walked along the recruits, looking at each of them in turn with a look of satisfaction on his face.
“Every one of you has passed basic training and you are already three-quarters though the commando course. You have done well, damned well and I would be proud to take any of you into action with me.”
The group were obviously surprised, this being the first praise they’d ever heard from him.
“We have changed course and will be meeting with the Fleet assembling on the Rim. We will arrive in less than a week. After that we head for the Titan stations and the war. I can’t tell you how long this fight will go on for or how difficult it will be. What I can tell you is that in one week, whether you like it or not, you will be marines and you will be baptised in fire and finally earn your title of marines!”
A cheer rang out through the room as the Sergeant paced back and forth. It went on for almost a minute before he ordered them to stop.
“I don’t know the exact details yet but I do know that Confed will aim to stop this revolt and fast. The Titan stations control all access to Prime and if we lose Prime we lose the most important planet in the entire System. I need you to work hard and get yourselves ready. Whatever you’ve been doing, do more. Only some of you will have completed the full commando training but that isn’t going to keep you from combat. I will be assigning those of you that pass the course specific duties when the time comes but for now remember, every marine is a rifleman and you will perform your duty the same as every other marine.
“You will all assemble in the aft training hall in thirty minutes, it is time for your zero-g squad exercise and based on the news you have all just heard you are going to want to get lots of zero-g time in. This will be the up-scaled version of last week’s exercise. There is already a full company of recruits from Bravo Company getting dug in. It will be your job to clear the training course of all hostiles with minimal casualties. Full briefing in thirty minutes.”
He walked to the door and turned back.
“Hoorah!” he shouted, instantly followed by an enthusiastic response from the recruits.
Lieutenant Erdeniz sat in his quarters reading the reports that were still coming in about the attacks on Proxima. He had family in the capital but after four hours of nearly continuous effort, he couldn’t make contact through any of the regular channels. Less news was getting out from the main communication satellites, whether that was due to weather, technical or hostile actions he couldn’t tell. The last message from the centre of the capital said the city was under martial law and the Army were clearing the streets. The briefing with the command staff had confirmed that the CCS Crusader was heading to the Rim to meet with as many ships as could be mobilised. Reports indicated that the Titan Naval Station was now under insurgent control and protected by over twenty vessels, though this was not confirmed. It also said that the smaller orbiting transit stations had been attacked but it wasn’t clear if all or some were now under insurgent control. Either way Prime was being blockaded and it would be hard, if not impossible, to get to the planet’s surface or to escape without facing attack by vessels waiting at the stations. Confed had been seriously caught with their pants down this time, and as usual, it would fall to people like him to pick up the pieces.
The rumble of the engines was much more prominent than normal and he could feel it through the deck. He had only thirty minutes break before he was to return to the gun decks for additional testing and practice. The Captain had already informed them that action was imminent and that this would be the first time the Fleet had been used in anger in over thirty years. Although his room was deep inside the vessel, he did have a virtual window that gave the illusion of facing the hull of the ship. He could make out the infinite number of stars and he thought to himself how wondrous it would be to be able to travel fast enough to visit them. So far, no vessels had been able to travel faster than light. There were still plenty of books and movies being made based upon the assumption it would happen but after many generations nothing had changed. The journey from Earth to Alpha Centauri still took just under ten years and though the transports still plied their way between the old and the new world, it wasn’t fast enough for them to expand into the real recesses of deep space.
The sound of his door alarm buzzed and he pressed the intercom button without even taking his eyes off the screen.
“Ensign Harris here, Sir, I have the firing results for you.”
Erdeniz hit the button and the door slid open neatly. In walked the Ensign with his computer tablet in his hands. His uniform was a little scruffy and Erdeniz was already feeling irritable when he saw the man enter.
“You could have sent it to my account you know!”
“Yes, Sir, I needed to bring you something else though.”
“Really?” he replied sarcastically.
There was something strange about Harris he thought, his face looked clammy and there was something else, yes, the real difference was in his demeanour. He always appeared subservient to authority but for some reason he looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Erdeniz put it down to the stress or concern of the upcoming action with the insurgents. He made to reach forward to take the tablet when he noticed something on the Ensign’s foot. He looked closer, noticing the dark red stain. It looked like fortified wine or maybe blood. He smiled to himself as he though of claret and its double meaning before it dawned on him.
“What happened to your foot?” he asked though his pulse was already telling him something very bad was about to happen.
The Ensign looked directly at Erdeniz, his expression changing to anger or more likely contempt. He remembered the look from his micro expression classes during his psychology modules. It was the look of a man who was suddenly showing his true feelings and they were like nothing he had ever experienced face to face before. He recoiled slightly at the man’s expression.
“Shit!” he muttered as he reached for the alarm on the wall.
The Ensign rushed forward, drawing a roughly made blade from inside his tunic. The blade was narrow, almost like a stiletto. It had the look of a weapon that had been fabricated from something on the ship. It certainly wasn’t military issue. It had no discernable edges but did have a vicious point that could probably penetrate even the thickest clothing. It was like a cross between a stiletto and a prison made shiv.
With the weapon held high he jumped forward, covering the distance in no time at all and stabbed hard. As he moved he cried out, shrieking in some unintelligible language. Erdeniz reacted quickly but it wasn’t quick enough and as he turned the blade struck him in the shoulder. The pain was excruciating and he screamed out at the same time as hitting the button. The alarm triggered immediately as he slumped to the floor. The blade had penetrated its entire length and blood was already pouring profusely from the wound. He tried to move but something heavy smashed into the side of his head and he found himself lying on the floor. The room started to blur and he was convinced he was dying.
“Get up you idiot!” he shouted in his mind, desperately trying to keep his eyes open, not wanting to give the man the opportunity to finish him off.
The pain was agonising but he kept at it, finally able to roll onto his front and reached around to the blade. As he turned, he half expected the next final blow but the Ensign was busy rummaging through his personal terminal, scrolling through his classified data. Erdeniz reached to his thigh and clicked open the holster, withdrew his sidearm and pointed it at the Ensign.
“Get back from the terminal, Ensign!”
He tried to stand but the pain ripped though his body, the knife still jammed into his body. The Ensign ignored him and continued to work on the computer. Erdeniz flipped the button on his pistol that automatically loaded in a ship safe round. The rubber tipped round could easily kill an unarmoured man at this range and there was no possibility it could penetrate the skin of any part of the ship or damage the major circuits or equipment inside. Hearing the noise from the gun Harris turned and looked directly at him. He snarled and then ran at Erdeniz, taking him by surprise.
“Fuck me!” he cried as he fumbled with the pistol. The man was on him by the time he’d collected his senses and as the two fell backwards he emptied every round from the pistol into the charging man. As they crashed into his desk items flew everywhere and his head smacked hard on the metal frame. This time he didn’t get back up as the blackness closed in on him.
Spartan and Marcus used their thrusters to move towards the access hatch. As they hit the button on their suits, small puffs of gases ejected from the suits’ miniscule exhausts and helped them manoeuvre in precise detail. These were generally used by engineering crews working on the outside of ships but sometimes also by marines when conducting boarding operations or working on the outside of stations in zero-g gravity situations.
The training area was a massive purpose built environment that used to be a storage compartment for materials and supplies. The total size was similar to a football ground and big enough to conduct detailed combat scenarios in a gravity free situation. The current layout matched the access sections of the Titan Naval Station and contained mock airlocks, shafts and rooms. Their platoon had split into three squads, each of twelve men. They had already taken a number of casualties trying to reach the cover of the structure. The defenders had set up secure firing positions so they could cover access points to the base. Marcus reached out, holding onto the metal railings near the airlock hatch and attached the override mechanism. All the recruits in the other two squads were wearing their standard Personal Defence Suits along with their manoeuvring modules. Spartan and his squad had swapped their gear for the combat engineer rig. These suits were much thicker and bulkier than the usual armour but they were also equipped with heavy-duty hydraulic gear and close range weapons. Spartan moved to the side of the door and slammed the armoured fist like a battering ram into the metal.
“What are you doing, man, I’m nearly done!” Marcus shouted through the intercom.
He struck the metal three more times before he had ripped open a hole big enough to use his other fist on. Just a few more pulls and he had torn open a hole that was wide enough to go through.
“Keep on the door, old man, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve mined it,” he said with a grin.
Teresa and Marcus followed him inside the shaft and lowered themselves to the side so they could activate their grav boots. These gave them grip on the metal surface but they had to be careful, there were plenty of items they wouldn’t stick to and there was still the lack of gravity to contend with.
A volley of rubber tipped bullets rushed down the corridor, silent in the vacuum of space. Several of them struck Marcus but the impact failed to register. His heavy cutting tools absorbed the impact.
“You see what I meant earlier? This suit has three times the protection on the front. Perfect for boarding actions.”
“Yes, nice, I can see that, Spartan!” Marcus said, he couldn’t stop a little smile escaping.
The shaft shook and Spartan could see three recruits drifting from one of the other access hatches, a series of sparks and smoke indicating the door had blown out with an improvised charge.
Teresa banged her armoured hand against the side of the shaft as he shouted. “Nice work! Looks like it’s just us left then.”
Jesus entered the shaft and activated his boots, following him were four more recruits, the rest had been picked off on the way in.
“Damn, we lost four then, trying to get here,” said Spartan to himself. “This is Charlie Squad, anybody from Alpha or Bravo still in action?” he asked over the secure communications channel.
“Two of us are pinned down near the medical station, rest of my squad is wasted!” came a familiar voice, he was sure it was Burnett.
“That you, Burnett, who else is with you?”
There was a pause for a few seconds, “Just me and Matt.”
Spartan looked at Teresa and Marcus who grinned back at him.
“Hang in there, stay in cover, we’re coming from the loading airlock. ”
The heavy suits were slow, much slower than the normal suits, but there was nothing they could do to speed things up. As they reached a few metres from the half-open door ahead two recruits popped their head outs and opened fire. Marcus leaned to the side lowering his left arm to reveal a very quick modification he had done. He’d strapped the three L48 rifles that he, Spartan and Teresa had been issued with to the metal mountings and run a cable inside his suit. He had also fitted the optional small calibre, close assault module and ammunition boxes. It was ridiculous overkill but the result was mightily impressive. He pulled the trigger and the three weapons opened fire with their small calibre rounds.
It was a surreal sight as the rapid flashes signalled the discharge of the silent weapons. Hundreds of rubber tipped rounds blasted through the shaft and easily hit the recruits as well as another two that were moving in to reinforce them. Even funnier was that the bullets forced the recruits backwards and along the shaft as they lost their grip.
“Yeah!” Spartan shouted, as he pushed ahead and into the junction room that led to different parts of the station.
He stomped ahead to the shaft directly ahead. With this route now secure, the four new arrivals each in their normal armour made quick progress into the shafts and proceeded to move in on the enemy command room. By splitting apart the four recruits would be able to strike the target area from four directions. Marcus and Teresa moved up to the flanks of Spartan.
“I’m receiving complaints from the defenders that some of you are ignoring your hits,” came a voice over the intercom, it was the Drill Sergeant.
“Bullshit, the front armour on these suits is proof for twenty millimetre anti-tank rounds,” said Spartan abruptly.
“Indeed, somebody has done their homework, continue,” came the reply.
“Spartan Unit in position,” Marcus said with a sly smile.
“Spartan Unit? You kidding?” Teresa laughed.
Spartan looked at them both, turning his head before looking back at the last door. He spoke quietly. “On the other side of this door is a ten metre shaft that leads directly into the Command Centre. Jesus, give us the word when your team is in position.”
Jesus was positioned a short distance away and moving to follow the four other recruits. He turned giving a hand signal as he disappeared into one of the small shafts.
Spartan lifted his armoured arms in front of the suit. Because of the tools and hydraulics, as well as the added armour, it was like a complicated heavy metal shield that could easily protect the wearer from most of the incoming fire. Teresa did the same, pushing the metal in front of them for protection.
“We’re in position,” came the message from Jesus.
Spartan nodded, looking at the two standing next to him.
“Okay, I rip open the door then we push the armour forward. As we distract them, you drop in on the flanks and take them out one at a time. Remember, single shots, keep in cover and take them out. Understood?”
A chorus of affirmative gave him his answer. Spartan slowly pushed the hatch forward with his hands, knowing the door may be rigged with a charge. He pushed the blades from his hand into the metal wrenching the side of the hatch away. As the door drifted off he was surprised to find no charges set.
“Bet they left it open for us to walk into,” said Teresa as she looked about for the enemy.
“Follow me!” Spartan pushed ahead and into the shaft.
They followed Spartan closely, both looking for signs of trouble. Marcus brought up the rear and ensured they weren’t attacked from behind.
As soon as they reached the end of the shaft they were in the Command Centre. Literally as soon as Spartan’s foot clunked into place, the room lit up with the muzzle flashes of the dozen surviving recruits. Round after ineffectual round clattered off their armour. Teresa moved up to Spartan’s left and raised her arms, deflecting most of the rounds from her thickly armoured suit.
“Now!” Spartan shouted.
It was over almost as soon as it had begun. The hatches in four different places popped open and flashes of movement indicated the rounds blasting the survivors. In just five seconds, the defenders were out of the fight. The avalanche of fire stopped and everything seemed to stop moving.
“Jesus, take your unit and get Burnett and Matt secured.” Spartan ordered.
“Affirmative.”
Back in the Command Centre, the three recruits moved inside, checking for survivors. The so-called killed defenders kept to the sides and out of the way of the exercise. Spartan saw a reflection and made to move his hand when Teresa spotted movement behind them. She moved quickly, looking to place her heavy frontal armour between Spartan and the enemy but she wasn’t fast enough. As the men opened fire though Marcus intercepted them. He was slightly to the side and had been checking one of the hatches. He opened fire with his improvised assault arm that was still fitted with the modified weapons and hit the two attackers with over a hundred rounds.
A light flashed inside Spartan’s suit, indicating a hit to a valve. A computerised voice spoke, indicating he had suffered a critical hit.
“Cease fire. End of exercise!” came the order over the intercom. “All recruits report to the briefing room in thirty minutes for debrief, out!”
“Man, that guy needs to learn to lower his blood pressure!” said Marcus.
The three looked at each other, only Spartan’s suit failure light flashed.
“Well, two out of three isn’t bad,” Teresa said.
The briefing room was packed with the exhausted recruits. The competitors sat together, but apart. It was incredible how one group of people could feel as much friends as they were enemies. That was the price of competition Spartan thought to himself.
The Drill Sergeant entered the room and marched up in front of them.
“That was an interesting exercise and I’m pleased to say some of you survived to tell the tale. The defender team suffered one hundred percent casualties. That is thirty-two out of thirty-two killed in action. Before you get excited, only nine survived from the attackers but that is still damned fine odds for this mission.”
He walked along the line, looking at each of them in turn before stopping.
“Will the survivors please stand up.”
Two groups of people stood up, Burnett and Matt at one end and Spartan’s group at the other.
“Now look here, nine recruits, nine fighters, some of whom probably wanted to slam the others’ heads against the bulkhead managed to achieve a total victory against an enemy that was dug into a superior position. Outstanding!”
He continued walking along the front of the group, this time paying attention to those standing.
“What’s your name, marine?” he asked.
Some of the recruits looked at each other in surprise, it was the first time they had heard him use that word.
“Teresa Martinez, Sergeant!” The Drill Sergeant extended his hand and shook hers before turning to the rest of the group.
“This marine performed above and beyond the call. She used initiative, overcame difficulties and even put herself in the line of fire for another marine. I could ask no more of any one of you. Hoorah!” he shouted with a smile.
The rest of the recruits stood, shouting in congratulation to the survivors and the sense that on that day they had in part, achieved some measure of respect from their Sergeant.
“You earned yourselves a day’s leave. In twenty-four hours you undergo your final test. Those of you who pass will become a marine. Some of you, if you score highly enough, will even join the commandos. Dismissed!”
The recruits filed out of the hall and headed in different directions, some to their quarters and others to the two recreation rooms. Unlike previous training activities, this one seemed to have encouraged them to intermingle as the recruits swapped stories on the complex operation they’d just worked through.
Spartan, Jesus, and Marcus walked down the main corridor towards their usual rec room. As they passed the first set of berths, Teresa appeared at the doorway.
“Hey, Spartan!”
He walked up to the door, placing one hand on the bulkhead.
“Inside!” she shouted with a grin.
Reaching out she grabbed Spartan and yanked him so he fell through the open door. As he stumbled to the floor she slammed the door shut.
Marcus looked at Jesus with a look of surprise on his face.
“Bastard!” laughed Jesus.