Tears of Kerberos (10 page)

“I don’t understand, they’ve been hitting us for hours, why aren’t they attacking the line now?”

Spartan checked the tactical display in his suit. It wasn’t as detailed as the information you would expect to find in a command centre, but it did show a physical map of the terrain and colours markers for all known friendly and hostile units. He examined the enemy’s dispositions before replying to the Lieutenant.

“Well, based on their last two attacks, I’d say they’re looking for another way in. The last attack was a disaster for them, Sir. Maybe they are waiting for darkness?”

“Perhaps.” The Lieutenant rechecked their position. “I don’t like it. We have a strong defensive line here but not much of a reserve. What if they are working out a way to go over or under our lines?”

“They could have access to more tunnels, Sir?” suggested Spartan.

“We should probably get some of the tech teams from the General’s staff to do a full subterranean survey of the city. Good plan, Sergeant. In the meantime assemble a small group, a mixture of CES, commandos and anybody else you can find. Set up a reserve outpost back there, on the overpass.” He pointed at the raised roadway half a kilometre away. “If anyone tries anything I want to make sure we have someone I can depend on when it goes to hell!”

“Sir!”

Spartan understood the well-hidden complement the officer had made. How intentional it was he had no idea. Spartan looked back at the front line and the scores of people carrying rubble, supplies and ammunition. Even though there was an obvious lull in the battle, it could end at any time. He was secretly glad for a few minutes respite from the frontline where so many marines had already been picked off in the fighting and where he knew another attack was imminent.

* * *

In high orbit above the surface of Prime was the Confederate Fleet, recently bolstered by a dozen newly arrived small frigates helping to reinforce the ever growing blockade around the planet. Streams of transports transferred their cargos to the transit stations before returning on their long voyages to the refineries, military bases and outposts of the Confederacy. Smaller craft made the dangerous trip through the thick atmosphere of Prime to deliver people, supplies and weapons to those on the ground. The most recent arrival was the heavy armoured transports of the Army, with their own frigates providing escort.

The most powerful vessel remaining at the blockade was the CCS Wasp, commanded by Captain Hardy. Though he commanded the ship it was now the home of the battlegroup and Admiral Jarvis had transferred her flag aboard, following the evacuation of the Crusader for emergency repairs at Kerberos.

Wasp was nothing as intimidating as one of the Confederation battleships but she was still a mighty vessel, bristling with weapons and carrying a variety of combat craft. Deep inside the armoured hull of the ship Admiral Jarvis, now accompanied by General Rivers, stood around the tactical display as they examined the situation on Avagana.

Throughout the CiC the dozen officers monitored communication channels and data traffic as they helped coordinate the massive operation on the ground and in space. The tactical map showed an updated model of the planet’s surface and the ongoing operations. One of the displays crackled and the image of General Shears appeared. He was in charge of the combined ground based forces of Prime, though with the disputes in the colonies most of his forces had now evacuated to Avagana.

“Admiral,” said the old General as he straightened himself at the sight of his opposite number.

General Rivers, the overall commander of ground operations in the sector moved closer so that he appeared next to the Admiral.

“General, what is the situation in New Carlos?” asked General Rivers.

General Shears looked at the Marine Corps officer with disdain. Though they were both senior officers there had always been a level of disagreement between planetary colonial forces and the space based Confederate Marine forces. The rivalry often spilled into spats between officers.

“The city is secure, for now. I have deployed forces to the city perimeter and have established a command centre and reserve deployment area at the Space Port.”

“And the rest of Avagana?” asked Rivers.

“Only one city was fully overrun, my colonial forces are dealing with that problem. Right now I’m more concerned with the garrisons throughout the Seven Colonies. The last signal from Fort Wellington was that rebel forces had surrounded the fort and were demanding their surrender.”

“Yes, we’ve been monitoring the situation from up here. The city defence forces and some of the army units are not responding to our signals right now. We suspect some may have been infiltrated or attacked,” said Admiral Jarvis.

There was a long pause from the General, as he spoke quietly to somebody off camera, then turned back to the camera.

“My forces are loyal, if you are unable to contact them it is because somebody is jamming them. What about my reinforcements?” he said angrily.

General Rivers looked less than impressed with the response from the General.

“Listen, General Shears, we have three divisions of infantry preparing for combat landings. One is being dropped to the West of New Carlos. They are being landed along with armour and close air support. The other two will help secure the East Coast and the cities between there and New Carlos.”

Admiral Jarvis checked her computer display for the progress of the Army transports. From her figures they were about an hour away from starting their operations.

“How does that help me?” demanded General Shears, “I need more men for the defence of the city!”

“No, General. You must hold with what you have. The Army has the numbers and firepower to clear the open ground. Watch the perimeter and hold. We anticipate Army forces will link up with New Carlos in approximately seventy-two hours,” Rivers explained.

The man lowered his head in disagreement then cut the signal.

“Well, he’s a pleasant fellow,” said a grinning Admiral Jarvis.

“I don’t like it.” General Rivers looked worried. “He has a reputation for being a bit of a hot head and he really doesn’t like the idea of regular army units stealing his glory for retaking Avagana.”

“What do you think he will do?”

“I don’t know but you can be sure it won’t be well thought out. Can you get back to him?”

With a gesture from Jarvis the communications officer walked over and saluted.

“I need to speak to General Shears again, urgently!”

The man saluted and moved back to his console. He hit a number of buttons as he tried to break through the jamming coming from the surface.

“Sir, we are being jammed from the source, I can’t burn through to New Carlos or the General,” he said apologetically.

Movement caught her eye as she looked out through the virtual windows on the walls. The glint of light had come from the column of six heavy infantry transports of the Army. They each carried thousands of soldiers as well as scores of tanks and ground support aircraft. The hangar doors were already open and the mechanical loading gear was pushing out the huge Landers that would deposit the men one company at a time. Each one looked like a large ant with their multiple sections and large legs that were currently folded away prior to re-entry through the atmosphere. They would deploy the legs as they landed.

Another of the massive Army ships was releasing a dozen strike aircraft. These machines were based on the shuttles used by the marines but were optimised for high-speed close air support. The craft contained a crew of a dozen personnel to operate the myriad of weapon mounts and missile systems. The largest of all the craft was the Assault Lander, a large vehicle that had all of its transport capacity removed and replaced by batteries of artillery and heavy guns mounted along one side of the craft. As it pushed away from the transport its engines fired up pushing the Lander into a lower orbit prior to its landing.

Although the Navy had the bulk of the ships, the Army operated the planetary defence forces which included a small fleet of transports and light escorts. Many battles were fought over who was responsible for different operations, the Army trying to wrestle control of orbital bombardment and support, with the Navy maintaining the long range ships and assault troops of the Confederation. All warships were under the command of the Navy, much to the annoyance of the Army commanders. This was a consequence of the events during the Great War.

General Rivers moved up alongside her and watched the flotilla.

“It’s a wondrous thing watching the Army deploy,” he said with a hint of amusement.

“Indeed. They move at a snail’s pace but when they do arrive they hit like a ton of bricks. They won’t know what’s hit them,” replied the Admiral.

She didn’t look terribly impressed at the sight of the monstrous vessels unloading their military cargos. The arrival of the Army would also mean the involvement of petty squabbles and politics. She would much rather the simple command and control of Navy in space and Marines on the ground. It was never going to be that simple though she thought to herself.

 
“Admiral, I will need to coordinate this action.” He turned smartly to rejoin his combat staff that were already plotting the landing sites and targets to strike.

Admiral Jarvis stayed at her post as she continued to track the progress of the Fleet. The number of vessels in orbit around the planet was growing by the day but there were still gaps in the line and vessels could break through with enough speed if they timed it right. Since the Station had been retaken, over thirty attempts had been made for various craft to break orbit. Most were transports carrying refugees but three had been suicide craft and one had even been loaded with a full complement of the shock troopers.

“I’m picking up movement from low orbit. Medium sized transport, ETA twelve minutes,” said the tactical weapons officer.

The officer hit a key on his terminal as he checked the configuration of the vessel. It didn’t take him long to find the correct ship in the database and in seconds he had crosschecked it with Confed Naval records.

“Sir, it’s an Icarus Class medium transport, she’s heading right for us!”

Captain Hardy moved to the centre of the bridge. The Admiral commanded the Fleet, but it was still his ship and he knew how to get the most out of his crew. Jarvis nodded as he carried on.

“Are they showing on IFF?”

“Negative, Sir, there are no transmissions coming from the vessel. They are still accelerating.”

The IFF system was the Identify Friend of Foe system that was a requirement of every vessel, be it civilian or military. Each time a craft made a journey its logs and codes were updated. This allowed customs and military forces to establish the origins and allegiance of a vessel when at range. It might seem draconian, but with the kind of distances the ships passed it wasn’t always possible to easily identify a craft before it was too late.

Hardy turned around and wiped his forehead.

“Admiral, I recommend full alert, this craft could cripple any one of our ships. If they hit the transports we’ll lose thousands!”

“The transports, how do they know?” Without waiting for an answer the Admiral pulled the intercom close to her mouth.

“Action stations! We have incoming craft! Set Condition Red through the Fleet. All ships have permission to open fire on unidentified vessels within twenty kilometres!”

“Where is our CAP?” she asked.

“Combat Air Patrol is already on a course to intercept, they will be in range in sixty seconds,” said one of the officers.

“Put me on with the lead pilot.”

With a few clicks of the buttons Admiral Jarvis was on with the pilot of the closing fighter. On the screen in front of her the data for the Lightning MK II Fighter appeared. It was a small two-man craft equipped with automatic cannons and anti-ship missiles. The Lightning Fighters were carried aboard many of the carriers in the Fleet, as well as some of the escort cruisers where a few small craft were handy for use in customs duties or ship defence.

“Lieutenant Jacobs, Fourth Interceptor Wing, closing on unidentified craft.”

“This is Admiral Jarvis. Are you detecting any signs of life or any transmissions coming from the craft?”

There was a short pause punctuated by the crack and hiss of static. The officers in the CiC of the Wasp kept quiet, each waiting for the word.

“Admiral, the vessel is already damaged, she’s leaking fuel and it looks like the port hull has been shredded by anti-aircraft fire. She was hit trying to get from the surface, I can’t tell who did the shooting though.”