Tears of Kerberos (14 page)

“Sir, message from the surface from an unknown source, it says it is an urgent priority communication,” said Lieutenant Nilsson.

“It’s okay, let it through,” Commander Anderson ordered.

He had been waiting for a signal for some time now and he was beginning to think Admiral Jarvis had been a little too optimistic to expect important information so soon. He checked his datapad and selected the correct codes to establish a secure text link with the intelligence contact on the surface. The icons jumped around and then lined up as the cipher was confirmed. The code for the Admiral’s agent was valid and the first piece of information to arrive stunned him. It stated that Typhon, the almost mythical religious figure of many of the religions and cults through the System, would be attending a meeting of major organisations in the next forty-eight hours.

As he read the message it occurred to him that it could be no coincidence that he had picked up a signal to a site out on the Rim that referred to The One. He remembered reading a report some months ago that linked the term along with two of the most extreme organisations on Kerberos. If this intelligence was correct, this could be the breakthrough they had been waiting for. Maybe the meeting and the signals to the Rim were connected.

“I’ll take this in my sea cabin, XO, you have the bridge,” he said as he marched out of the room.

As he left he walked the short distance to his sea cabin. It was located close to the bridge so that he could be called from sleep or attending to administration instantly. He opened the door and quickly went inside, closing it firmly to ensure he was alone. The cabin was sparsely equipped, containing just a bunk, desk, toilet facilities and a computer terminal on the wall. It was an improvement over the accommodation used by most of the crew, but only marginally so. The Captain of the ship also had access to far more civilised quarters at the in-port cabin further aft. When he had the time this area was more lavishly furnished, with a separate bedroom and combination sitting room and office.

 
He brushed his hand across the computer system and selected the options that would initiate a connection with the Fleet at Prime. As the system went through its connection protocols he poured himself a glass of water. The purification system on the battlecruiser had sustained heavy damage, so like everyone else he had to make do. In the corner of his quarters was a plastic container with four litres of lukewarm water. It wasn’t great but it was better than going thirsty. Like most of the vessels in the Fleet, this one was capable of displaying the exterior as though the wall was a window. He could see the dark side of the planet below as well as the glint of light from the orbital shipyards just a few hundred kilometres away. In less than an hour the ship would be docked and the injured crew taken away for treatment. The repair work on the ship could take months, maybe even years.

A tone from the computer display signalled the connection was complete. He moved in front of the screen where the image of Admiral Jarvis awaited him.

“Admiral, I have transmitted a copy of the intelligence received from your contact in Yama. The data indicates a high level meeting between multiple enemy assets in the next two days. I feel there may be a link to the previously intercepted signal with regards to something taking place out on the Rim.”

There was a pause as the signal travelled the massive distance. As he waited he checked the intelligence from the previous message. The indicators were all there, a number of high-level delegates, mentions of both the One and Typhon, plus an undisclosed location.

“Commander Anderson, your concerns confirm the analysis conducted by my own team here. There are strong links between Typhon and several pseudonyms that we believe refer to him. This meeting is of great interest to me. We have never been able to infiltrate any of the insurgency cells far enough to obtain top-level intelligence on the command structure of the enemy. Please pass on my orders to our contact at Yama and monitor the situation. I will take care of the operation in the Rim personally. Good work, Commander.” The display went black.

The Commander took another sip of water before pouring the rest of it back into the container. There was no sense in wasting such a valuable commodity when the resources of the vessel were so limited. The voice of the XO sounded from his cabin’s intercom.

“Commander Anderson, I have the pilot tug requesting permission to lead us into the shipyard.”

“I’ll be on the bridge shortly, give them permission.”

“Sir,” came the reply.

Anderson straightened his uniform and opened the door to leave his cabin when his video communication unit started up with an urgent communication. He shut the door and moved back inside to check the message. The video lit up to show the face of the Admiral again.

“Commander Anderson, I have just checked your data and it correlates directly with the intelligence from our other units. I think you know how significant this is to current operations. I need you to finish up your work on the Crusader immediately and arrange to get our contact out of Yama. You need to take the fastest shuttlecraft you have and rendezvous with this ship at the attached co-ordinates. I have already started to assemble a team to join you. I will forward a full briefing pack along with the latest intelligence for you within the hour.”

The Commander said nothing as he digested what she had just said. He already had masses of work to do with the Crusader and this sounded like a mission unsuited to his skills.

“I, I don’t understand Admiral. The Crusader needs my attention and I fail to see how my knowledge will be of use in a small intelligence operation.”

There was a delay as before and while he waited he stood patiently waiting for the details. The images of the Admiral continued to move but he knew he was looking at a feed that was transmitted minutes ago.

“Commander, this mission is of the highest priority. The location is out on the Rim and you are the most experienced officer in this sector for that region of space. This isn’t a request, I need you in the team!”

He understood immediately what she was saying. The intelligence had pointed to the Rim and with the rest of the data he was obviously going to be continuing the investigation in the murky waters of the Rim. It was some time since he had been there and he was well aware of how dangerous it could be to anybody that was inexperienced.

“Understood, Admiral, I will make preparations to leave immediately.”

Contrary to most people’s expectations, the use of close quarter weapons was never anticipated until the uprising was well underway. In the decades since the Great War it had become clear that armour and firepower were the highest priority for the valuable marines and soldiers of the Confederacy. In the confines of spacecraft and the underground caverns around the Bone Mill on Prime, the use of high quality edge and thrusting weapons turned the battle into something that hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years. A war, that relied on martial prowess and skill as much as ranged weapons and training.

Edged weapons in the Emergency

Teresa lay in her bunk watching the ships through the virtual window. There were very few marines left on the ship, most had been shipped off and only two companies had stayed back as a reserve. They had already been called out four times and on the last mission she had assisted in what could have been a very ugly one. She had finished writing her section for the after action report, something she was not normally expected to do. On this particular occasion there had been a problem with a diplomatic envoy. It had occurred when the team boarded the civilian liner to find a colonial security unit blocking their access to the rest of the ship. Now technically there was nothing wrong with this as a diplomatic vessel was normally granted full privileges by all Confederation vessels. Due to the heightened security in the crisis however, the Fleet under Admiral Jarvis, had full jurisdiction over any vessels in Confederation Space. Luckily they had been able to force their way inside, but two marines had been slightly injured and it was the violence on a non-military vessel that required her input on the operation.

Teresa looked over at her datapad and the report she had just added her information to. The last section had been written in haste and she was starting to regret the language she had used with regards to the official on the ship. She rolled over to grab the pad and inadvertently hit the send button by mistake.

“Oh…great, just what I need!” she muttered to herself at the rather unfortunate incident.

As she lay there considering the chewing out she could expect when her report arrived, she thought about how Spartan and the others were doing on Prime. She had not seen him for some time now and the last she heard his unit had been dropped into the heaviest fighting around New Carlos. The news on the battle was that it was going well, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until she knew the marines were on their way back to the Santa Cruz. It was weird being alone on what now felt like a ghost ship.

She turned back to her window display and looked out to the planet and spacecraft. One of the newly arrived frigates drifted by and she watched in awe of the mighty ship. Teresa had been reading about the ships, along with lots of other military hardware, during her rest and recuperation aboard the Santa Cruz.
 
From memory she knew it was only a fifth the size of her own craft and was built for combat whereas hers was both a training craft and troop transport. The armour was thick and she could see the multiple layers of thick slabs draped over the more vulnerable parts of the ship. She was far from an expert, but from the reading she had done the armour was a mixture of multiple layers as well as ablative and reactive armour. The frigate was equipped with a number of railguns as were most of the warships in the Fleet. She was also configured with the new, much smaller phalanx weapon systems, a variant of the normal point defence turrets. She understood these turrets could track and hit targets from a railgun with a range of over kilometre. In theory the ship could actually stop kinetic shells before they could hit the armour. Even more importantly, the frigates could provide massed defensive firepower for the larger ships. This was something very new and until the last month had been a very low priority. With the epic battle around Kronus, Admiral Jarvis had pulled in every frigate she could find to help protect the vulnerable transports and capital ships. They had yet to be tried in battle but they were needed none the less.

She shook her head, thinking that she was starting to act like a spaceship spotter, one of those pasty nerds that sat at spaceports taking down the names of ships and their registration numbers to store and check with their friends. She shuddered at the thought, that was not her!

She looked back outside where a number of civilian ships were waiting as security teams checked them before being allowed to the leave the planet’s orbit. There was something different going on and the movement caught her attention. As she watched, a military shuttle with a Thunderbolt escort of fighters manoeuvred alongside the hulk of the marine warship. She realised it must be somebody of importance to be coming aboard with such a number of people.
 

A loud buzz echoed through the cabin as the officer on duty announced the departure in one hour of another boarding party for a civilian liner. As Teresa watched the ships moving past, her video display activated to show an image of Commander Malone, the XO of the Santa Cruz.

“Private Morato?” he asked.

Teresa stumbled out of her bunk and stood up firmly.

“Sir,” she muttered as she tried to look a little less haphazard.

“Your presence is required urgently in the briefing room in ten minutes,” he said before cutting the feed.

Teresa relaxed for a moment before looking around her bunk for the rest of her clothes. She found her blouse quickly trying to put it on and then pulled on her combat boots. As she dragged on the second boot she stumbled and then reached out, catching the side of the bunk just before she crashed to the floor. She managed to avoid hitting anything major she did knock her datapad off the desk. It crashed to the floor with a sound that suggested something not so good had happened to its internals. She straightened herself up and lifted the unit, noting the scratches and marks down the one side. She turned it around to see three cracks along the screen along with a service error on the front.

 
“Oh…crap!” she swore as she dumped the unit on the desk and then reached around for the rest of her clothes.

* * *

Spartan stood on his own, his CES suit was smashed to pieces and lay around him. It was odd but somehow he was stood atop a massive building, the tallest structure he could see, perhaps half a kilometre tall. He was so high that there were actually clouds around and below his level. The walls of the building were of smooth granite and marked with the holes, pits and scratches of a structure that was worn from decades of exposure to the elements. He looked up at the series of glowing masts and aerials that looked like the extended lines of the spines on a porcupine. Several microware and narrow band dishes were also fitted that pointed out to the horizon.