into a full scale uprising of kind not seen since the Great War.
“Now, weapons, equipment and tactics. It is clear that the Zealots have been massing supplies and equipment for years. To date, we have come across everything from knives to military issue shotguns and rifles. They are using body armour, most of which is home produced and not effective against our L48 rifles. They are vastly more experienced in hand-to-hand combat and in every engagement where they have been close enough to use edged weapons they have overwhelmed our forces. They are competent with knives, maces and even swords. Some of their close quarter weapon designs are completely new to us. We have reports that these devices are quite capable of punching through the chest armour of a marine,” he added, followed by a long pause.
“Finally, vehicles. We have seen evidence of homegrown vehicles, mainly land based and a few aircraft in the north. In general, they seem to prefer ground combat but are capable of hijacking or capturing craft of all kinds. They have the knowledge and skills to repair, modify and operate everything from trains to warships. This suggests knowledge from within our existing security structures,” he said before stepping back.
“Before General Rivers explains our plans I would like a full update on the Fleet. Please keep this short as time is critical!” The Admiral ordered.
Lieutenant Erdeniz lay in his hospital bed gazing out of the windows. He knew they weren’t real, but the view was a direct feed from outside and it was good to see something other than the white walls of the room. He had only recently woken up and the drugs were still swirling inside his body, making him feel as though he had been drinking for the last twenty-four hours. As he lay there the door opened and in walked a captain, flanked by a guard. He marched up to the side of the bed and removed his hat.
“How are you feeling, son?” he asked.
Erdeniz tried to focus on the man but the drugs dulled his senses and it took a few seconds for him to be able to properly focus.
“Uh, um, I’m feeling much better, Sir,” he said with much effort.
“Good man. I can’t stay long, we’re waiting for information on the plan to come through from CIC. I was asked by the Admiral to tell you that she is very grateful for what you did.”
“I, I don’t understand,” came the weak reply.
“When you were attacked it was an attempt by the Zealots to take over the ship. Two of them tried to break into the Admiral’s quarters when you triggered the alarm. Over a dozen officers were already dead when you set it off. Another twenty seconds and the entire command staff would have gone too. You have our thanks, you have literally saved this crew and this vessel,” he said with a smile.
Erdeniz was still confused and didn’t fully understand what the man was saying but at least it didn’t sound like he’d done something bad.
“Now, get a little rest, I will send somebody along later to check on you. Good job!”
Returning his hat to his head he exited the room smartly and closed the door behind him.
General Rivers approached the waiting marines in the main hall of the Santa Maria.
“As Commander of the 6 ^ th Marine Regiment I have been given command of the ground element of the operation to retake control of all the stations around Prime.”
On the screen in front of the assembled marines he brought up the massive Titan Naval Station that was built into the largest of Prime’s moons.
“As you can see, the Station is well guarded by the Battleship Victorious and the crippled Resolution. We cannot even consider an operation to take the Station until these vessels have been eliminated.”
Hitting a button the image changed to an aerial view of the plan.
“The Fleet will split into three squadrons, the first two will move in and take control of the eight transit stations and hopefully draw some of the vessels away from Titan Naval Yard. Each of these stations is small, some are simple docks and shipyards, others are used to move civilian traffic. We need to take them all back and fast. By hitting them simultaneously, the enemy will not be able to reinforce each other. A single group will then move in to engage the battleship as the commando unit heads to the naval yard eliminating the main guns. Once the primary defences are down we will move in and launch a coordinated assault on the Station itself. This is where you come in.” He pointed to the assembled men and women.
“If we cannot stop this warship the entire operation will be called off. I cannot stress to you how important it is that we succeed. We have the best ships for this part of the mission and I have no doubt we will be successful. The real crux of the operation will rest on the regiment’s task of capturing Titan Naval Station. The Station is operating at one quarter normal gravity and looks like the toughest assignment I have seen in my years in the marines.”
“This unit has been tasked with the most dangerous mission of all and I will not hide from you the difficulties you face. I will say that it is a testament to your training and skill that this ship has been chosen to lead the attack. As the rest of the Fleet engages the enemy, you will spearhead an overwhelming assault on the Station itself. Each platoon has specific objectives including securing the dock and shipyards. Those who have completed the commando training will join the team that will move into the command areas and secure the guns prior to the arrival of the marine transports. The main assault cannot go ahead until the guns are silenced. Small landing craft are fast enough to hopefully make it but our larger transports will be turned to dust before they reach five kilometres from their objectives.”
The officer turned to the marines, noting their eagerness to get stuck in.
“I know your training has been cut short but from the reports I’ve seen you are in the best shape we could hope for. You are fit, equipped and ready to do your job. Under normal circumstances we would wait but this situation is spiralling out of control. We have support from the gunboats of Wasp and this should be enough to provide adequate cover to get inside. Your squad leaders have their specific plans, please get a few hours rest, contact your loved ones, do whatever you damned please just be in the shuttle bays and ready for combat operation in four hours. Good luck, marines!”
As the marines were dismissed, Spartan and his group moved to the side of the area. Have you checked the boards? Which group are we going in with?” he asked.
“No idea, come on, let’s find out!” Teresa said as she ran off to the end of the hall where a large screen showed the roster and the combat teams. There were dozens of them, each assigned certain equipment and shuttles for their missions.
“Yeah, here we are!” shouted Jesus.
“What is this?” Marcus looked less than impressed.
Spartan stepped in closer, reading the board. Next to their names and half of their platoon was the assignment to the Commando Support Group.
“Support Group? What kind of gay shit is this?”
“You can be such an idiot, Marcus!” Teresa was reading the board.
“Teresa is right, Marcus, the CSG is part of the Commando Team that is going for the hostages. The support group’s job is to provide fire support and assistance as required. This is the highest you can get on your first mission,” said Spartan.
“We’d better go and get ready then, we need to meet the Commando Team and go over the mission before we board.”
“Yeah,” added Jesus as he made his way to his quarters.
Spartan turned to head off but Teresa grabbed his shoulder, turning him back around. “How long do we have?” she asked placing a special emphasis on the word ‘we’.
Spartan looked up at the clock and back at her. “I think we can manage thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes, hmm,” she said with a grin. “Yeah, I think that will work!”
Pulling his arm Teresa dragged Spartan off down the corridor and towards her quarters, much to the amusement of the rest of the squad.
