Novus Rising Read online

  I would like to thank my family and friends who have supported me throughout the project.

  I would also like to thank my editor for agreeing to help me with everything from editing, grammar, formatting, and directing the story from behind closed doors. Not once did he complain when I sent him drafts filled with spelling mistakes, or when I altered a section he had already corrected, well, okay, he may have complained a little about all those things but he helped anyway.

  ---

  Writing by Matthew Hoppe,

  Cover design by Humblenations.com

  Confront them with annihilation,

  and they will survive;

  plunge them into a deadly situation,

  and they will live.

  When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory.

  -Sun Tzu-

  -544 – 496 BC-

  Table of Contents

  Introduction.

  Chapter 0

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Introduction.

  The British Empire has always been a proud nation, when William Taylor discovered the anti-graviton in 2157, the Government was first to profit.

  William declined the opportunity to set up his own lucrative company and enjoyed a lifestyle free of stress, work, and not wanting for anything, but he was an old fashioned man who still believed in national power. He decided to become head of a new government owned company formed a year later. Using new technology they built everything from planes to cars, right down to vacuum cleaners, and novelty picture frames.

  The gravity engine was used to power rockets for the first time two years after the company started and had set up the UKSA, United Kingdom Space Agency, a Moon colony, within three more years. But, the effect of the gravity engine was further reaching than simple space exploration and high-end auto-mobiles, access to such technology provided civil and economic stability.

  When the supply of oil ran dry in the summer of 2176, it caused the nations of the Middle East to collapse. Their economies had never advanced beyond drilling for oil and without a stable income they devolved into lawless rebellions and tribal gangs. Those countries that did survive with a ruling government had their economies reduced to a pre-historic bartering system, losing all hope of ever regaining global influence.

  China's economy was reduced to rubble overnight as three quarters of the factories were forced to close when the price of power sky-rocketed. The mega-corporations that controlled the huge network of nuclear and hydro-electric power stations choosing to sell its supply to more lucrative Indian and North Korean markets.

  In America there were domestic problems as the lower classes were unable to afford 'Green' technology. There was a civil war that spilled over into neighbouring Canada to the north, and south to Mexico.

  Britain, along with the rest of the world, watched in helpless horror as the war escalated and finally ended with the nuclear annihilation of North America, and later fatal irradiation of South America when Hurricane Robert pulled the nuclear debris south.

  Using the distraction and unrest the British Empire expanded through a struggling Europe, Africa, and most of Asia, before spreading into the stars. Japan and Australia, as the two largest independent countries followed soon after.

  New Eden had been settled in the year 3068 as part of the Third Galactic Expansion, fuelled by advances in gravity manipulation, wormhole creation allowed faster-than-light travel. Just under two hundred years into the colony's construction, a mine over the New Eden's North Pole made a discovery, a vial, encased in rock.

  The vial was the centre of many experiments until an outbreak led to over a hundred deaths, forcing the Government to ban all tests, and destroy the strange liquid within the vial. Only six out of four hundred people escaped the mining outpost before the site was incinerated.

  A new political party was formed using the vial as a key point in their argument to expand the space fleet, reduce civilian colonisation, and impose martial law until the vial’s origin could be found. This party called themselves the Humanist as a show of their core belief. Unable to produce any official proof of the vial's existence, they were widely regarded as militaristic anarchists and never gained many votes.

  In 3429, just over four hundred years later, war broke out as rebels, calling themselves Humanist, although little evidence of a direct link to the old political group could be found, revolted against the long ruling Unionist Government that had reined for three hundred years.

  The war on New Eden was long and bloody, the small backwater planet had only two major cities and hundreds of small farming and mining towns, the planet had been chosen for colonisation because of its unusually high levels of naturally occurring promethium, used commonly in nuclear batteries.

  When the planet revolted against the Government, the local garrison of only a few thousand had been overwhelmed within weeks of riots and bombings.

  When the first wave of reinforcements arrived they expected to face little resistance, they had been told Governmental troops were still in control. That was wrong. Facing gunfire from the minute they landed the forty thousand strong relief force fought to maintain order in a war they had no chance of winning.

  That had been two and a half years ago. Unable to gain public support, the Government forces were pushed back to one of the two main cities of Hope to the north, and Connection to the south, where they would wait until they could be picked up by a fleet of navy spaceships. But the rebels were moving in fast.

  Now cut off from supply and unable to retreat, the surviving thirty thousand soldiers of the Fifth and Sixth infantry divisions were forced to make a final last ditch charge from their base in the city of Connection to the spaceport that had given the city its name.

  A small fleet of auxiliary ships, including the brand new troop transporter ships HMS Marco and her sister ship the HMS Polo, would be waiting in orbit to collect the men while a battleship had been pulled from anti-piracy patrol to provide orbital support when it arrived. Most of the soldiers had little or no combat experience before the war, the military had been used as riot control and colony police on new planets since the last real war over one hundred years earlier.

  This still showed in their equipment, standard issue was a hulking metal exo-suit designed to stop small arms fire, fires and bricks, but they were no match for the latest high tech ordnance the rebels bought on the black market from an organisation that had seemed to thrive before the war supplying specialist weapons to the various gangs and pirates that swarmed to new worlds like flies to rotting flesh.

  The armour could still stop the most high-tech bullet in its thick metal frame, but it would normally destroy the motors. Unless help arrived quickly, the wearer would die of electrocution from the shorted circuits, or suffocate under the weight of the unsupported metal.

  The rifles were designed for the role of riot control and prevention. Loading a large .50 calibre round, they could hold around thirty bullets in each short, pocket sized clip, howe
ver maintaining bullet count while using ever smaller clips could only come at the expense of accuracy and distance.

  The bullets used only one quarter the propellant charge of the proper, older rifles, thereby reducing the size of the bullet casings, but forced them to rely on a magnetic accelerator in the barrel to propel the bullet. In theory this was more accurate than the older powder charge, but soldiers found that in practice the magnetic coils quickly became weakened from wear and had a habit of snapping mid-fight, leaving the owner unable to shoot until he fitted a new barrel.

  Chapter 0

  Prologue

  On the eve of the last battle the soldiers of the Fifth Infantry division sat around the main gate and waited. One way or another they would leave the camp tonight. Either their reinforcements would arrive and they would fight to the spaceport and escape, or the Humanist rebels would attack the base and trap everyone inside until they starved or surrendered.

  Even if they got out the journey was likely to be long and tough with many dying before they could leave the planet.

  “Get the lead out!” an officer screamed over the hum of chatting soldiers. “We move in five minutes, head straight down the road and don't stop for anything!”

  The room fell silent, this was it, the moment they had all waited for. The big push was about to happen, it had taken only half an hour to plan after communications had been established with a battleship approaching orbit.

  “Anyone who gets cut off should surrender if possible as no rescue missions will be launched for you,” the officer continued. The room was full of soldiers wearing full combat armour. Each and every man stared at the officer who stood on an empty crate of food rations in the middle of the room. He was Major-General Charles Writer, commander of the Fifth Infantry.

  In the crowd of waiting troops stood Corporal Jerrold Hooper, he was in command of a small six man section who would lead the attack along with two reconnaissance sections. Jerrold’s unit was made of himself and five clones; they were manufactured by a private company to follow orders and needed constant command from Jerrold to operate. The recon sections were made up of humans to reduce the risk of the clones being cut off with no leader, and no orders.

  “Head out!” Writer screamed as the metal reinforced doors to the outside of the base began to open. “Last reports put about a million rebels on the road and they're dug in so watch for ambushes.”

  The warning was useless, as soon as the door started to open machine gun fire filled the room.

  “To the car lot!” Jerrold shouted over the radios. “Lay down covering fire for the others.”

  Men and clones sprinted from the open doorway down the street towards the safety of some abandoned cars in the road. Many were shot and fell to the ground like rag dolls only to be trampled under the boots of their friends.

  The bullets were unable to pierce the thick armour so every death in the first few minutes was caused by the panicked rush for cover. Rib's, skulls, and spines, snapping like twigs under the weight of other soldiers. Blood seeped from the metal suits whenever a bone broke through a soldier’s skin.

  One of the clones let out an animal scream as he felt a spear of pain shoot through his shoulder. The mechanical combat suit had stopped the bullet but the small EMP in the tip had shorted out the hydraulic motors around the joints and ripped a hole in the insulating rubber layer beneath, sending the electricity arcing through his muscle.

  “Man down!” Jerrold screamed, knowing nothing could be done.

  Firing his rifle down the street, Jerrold and his section hoped to draw fire away from the crowded exit where more soldiers still poured from the base. The hail of gunfire seemed to emanate from every window for as far as the eye could see.

  “We need to keep moving before we get flanked.” Writer shouted over the radios to every section leader.

  He was aware of an old industrial unit on the right with a single large window on each floor that would provide a perfect support for machine guns, fire teams, or snipers.

  “Halt the advance,” Jerrold pleaded to Writer. “We need to take a beachhead and clear the area, before the main push.”

  “Move on Corporal,” Writer ordered. “We'll die if we yield now.”

  “Then let us surrender,” a new voice yelled. “We'll get slaughtered if we push on.”

  “I don't care, move or die!” Writer shouted back. “Humanist have already started an assault on the rear of the base. We keep moving or get caught in the beast’s pincers.”

  Glancing towards the base, Jerrold watched as hundreds of fellow soldiers emerged from the dark hallway only to be cut down by the murderous hail of bullets. Those who made it to cover were then trapped by the same hail and picked off one by one by snipers in the buildings.

  “Move to the office on the left,” Jerrold ordered his men upon seeing the tall glass structure that now bristled with exploding muzzles.

  The four remaining men sprinted across the road towards the offices as quickly as their heavy mechanical suits would allow. Two more clones screamed in pain as bullets struck their suits; crumpling to the floor they lay motionless under the heavy metal as the weight squeezed the air from their lungs.

  “Keep moving!” Jerrold screamed as he reached the double doors that led into the main foyer. Charging through the glass doors he opened fire on the small group of rebels who were waiting behind the reception desk. His reaction times were just faster than the rebels and Jerrold killed them all before they could fire a shot.

  “One, hold the ground level, watch the door and the lift,” Jerrold said over his radio, a professional calm returning to his voice.

  One of the clones walked over and crouched over the bodies of the dead rebels. Wearing no armour the rebel soldiers had been shredded by the burst of fire, bones and bits of bloodied flesh hung from the holes in their chests.

  “Five, cover me,” Jerrold said as he sprinted towards the stairs.

  Stopping at the first floor, Jerrold peered through the window in the stairway door, trying to find clues about the floor’s layout. It was empty, there were no dividing walls or desks, only six machine guns, each one with a three man crew, and two snipers firing out of the broken glass windows that would have once shown the wondrous view of the city right on the edge of a new frontier.

  “You take left; I’ll get right,” Jerrold whispered, cautious of being discovered. “Use your ammo sparingly and meet me back here.”

  The clone nodded.

  Jerrold kicked down the door and sprang inside, pulling his rifle up to his shoulder, he fired at the closest machine gun team, killing all three men instantly. Behind him the single clone repeated these actions, killing two machine gun sections, and a sniper with a single long burst.

  Firing again, Jerrold finished his clip just before he could kill the last machine gunners. Throwing down his rifle Jerrold pulled the revolver from his holster and fired three shots at the three machine gunners, each bullet hit its mark with gruesome effect. “Grab an MG. We're going hunting.”

  Again the clone followed orders as efficiently and unquestioningly as it had its entire life. Pulling a heavy machine gun from its bulky tripod the clone then tore a strip of fabric from the uniform of one of the dead rebels and tied it around the barrel of the big gun in a rudimentary sling.

  The sling wrapped around the clone’s neck to support the weapon, it was a trick Jerrold had taught his section earlier in their deployment after seeing a clone under his command die when the recoil from a machine gun pushed it off the roof of a five story building on the outskirts of the city.

  Lacking the intelligence to see such dangers is what made the clones such good soldiers as they never hesitated or questioned orders, but sometimes it could have disastrous consequences.

  “Next floor, move on,” Jerrold ordered as he headed back to the staircase.

  The next six floors were the same, with Jerrold and the clone, designated only as the number five, sneaking through the door, then firi
ng on the unaware rebels within.

  When the last floor was clear of rebels Jerrold walked over to the window, keeping low to avoid attention, he saw that the rebels had indeed moved into the industrial building and flanked the rest of the division.

  “One, get up here.”

  He dropped his machine gun and picked up a sniper rifle from the ground by the mangled mass of flesh that had been the guns previous owner.

  Remembering his days as a hunter on Gemini Prime, Jerrold raised the rifle to his shoulder and looked through the powerful scope. While a human had to input the various bits of data, the scope had a small computer in it that would alter the angle of aim accordingly. Scanning the industrial building he found three machine guns, each had a three man team to aim, cool, and reload the big guns.

  “Wind speed, six miles, correction left two,” Jerrold said to himself in a practised routine as he clicked the dial at the top of the scope two positions to the left. “Range, one hundred fifty metres, one point five clicks up.” Again Jerrold turned the dial on the scope. “Angle of shot, positive twenty degrees, one half click down.”

  Jerrold finished his preparation and finally aimed at the machine gun on the right of the building, lining up the cross-hairs Jerrold squeezed the trigger softly. The rifle kicked violently as the bullet burst from the barrel and whizzed towards the building at over four thousand metres per second. Slamming into the machine gun and rendering the gun crew useless.