by Taki Drake
The shock of the altered circumstances was disorienting. One second, the forces of the Empire had been fighting a desperate battle against the Insectoids, and the next they were told to stand down. The urge to finish the fight against the overwhelming forces of the aliens had been almost impossible to overcome. Only Gwilliam’s years of experience and discipline had allowed him to pull back.
Those unusual circumstances were why Gwilliam was headed to Seer’s Rock. He had known that something momentous had happened and started investigating it immediately. Further digging had determined that Insectoid activity had ceased entirely across all the realms in which he had contacts.
Simultaneously.
Things like that simply didn’t happen in a calm and rational world. It did not change the fact that it had. A significant danger that affected thousands of planets had been swept away, without fanfare. Any thinking person would be concerned about the power that had been demonstrated. Gwilliam was concerned, unwilling to admit even to himself that what he felt was fear. Fear that shook his core, terror that kept his sleep restless.
Many of the affected areas were realms had faced constant Insectoid incursions for a generation or more. They were both shocked and relieved at the disappearance of the Insectoids. The first easement was quickly followed by a nervous state of waiting. Many of the power players tried to dampen their growing panic at the lack of knowledge about why the predatory species were no longer a factor. The silence drove the rumor mills wild, and speculation was a frothing cloud of conjecture and hysteria.
There had to be a new power in play, and they had taken the Insectoids entirely out of the picture. A frightening power that had preyed on civilizations for centuries had been destroyed in the space of a few minutes. Such a force needed to be checked and evaluated. This was especially important if they had traded one dangerous opponent for an even more powerful one.
Something had happened to the Insectoids, and it was vital for Gwilliam to know what. Curiosity was not the sole reason. As a Commander of Mercenaries, he needed to know what new risks and opportunities this brought his people. As an escapee from the Order of the Just, any threat to that shadow organization meant that they would suddenly remember his existence.
Gwilliam had tried very hard to stay underneath the Order’s notice, content in the life he had made for himself since escaping. However, if they decided that they needed his assistance to resist a threat, they would do whatever was necessary to force his cooperation.
Sometimes, in the depths of his sleep, he would find himself as the youngster he once was desperately planning his escape. He could remember the soul-deep desperation that drove him to it and knew that he never wanted to be there again. Gwilliam had no plans to work with the Order ever again, even if they offered his group a premium contract. He considered them misguided at best and depraved at the worst. Staying far away from them meant staying out of their attention, and he planned on following that pathway.
The chilling shadows of his past life were small compared to the most recent risk. This danger revolved around the nature of the new player in the Galactic game. What, or who was behind the new power? Was it an upcoming race, waxing into a potent force? Or had an organization formed to destroy the marauding Insectoids?
That might have happened, perhaps driven by sympathy for races vulnerable to the predators’ pillages or seeking power through the legal and time-honored means of removing others. Even in the galaxies overseen by the Auditors Guild, civilizations conquered others and claimed all the losers’ resources as their spoils. This was nothing new, and, in fact, Gwilliam’s profession was based on supporting that model of acquisition.
However, there was another disturbing option. The only other scenario that Gwilliam could imagine to cause the reaction of the Auditors’ Guild was the rise of a Mage of extreme power. While Mages rose from time to time, their tether to their homeworld usually limited the Galactic effect of their capabilities.
The situation that Gwilliam saw now spanned worlds and even galaxies. This was no tethered Mage that had risen. If there were a Mage behind the event, it would have to be one out of legend. The emergence of an unfettered Mage after millennia was a resounding shock that would spread throughout the entire universe.
The hardened mercenary officer dreaded this possibility with a backdrop of fear that goaded him into action, shortening his sleep, and pushing him into a flurry of intelligence gathering. Logic and intuition both told him that this was the most straightforward answer. It was the one most dangerous to him and his, and likely to the rest of the Alliance.
If such a Mage had emerged in possession of their powers, how would they contain and control such a force? How could they determine if, and how, to fight that power?
No traditional source of information, no contact, no quiet query Gwilliam had tried resulted in even a hint of the driving force behind the Insectoid disappearance. Solving that mystery would require a defter touch than the Mercenary Commander possessed.
For the skills and power that was required, Gwilliam needed a mind unrestricted by the usual perception of time. With unsettling feelings of dread, Gwilliam acknowledged that something far beyond his talents and skill was demanded.
There was one place he knew to find that talent. It was a dangerous location for him and his crew, especially now. As much as he had cast his mind around looking for another solution, any solution, the answer came back to one option.
He would have to take a trip to the colony of Seer’s Rock.
Chapter 3 – Low Hanging Fruit
Village of Dropond, Borachland
<< Alan, wake up, please. Alan, WAKE UP!! >>
The telepathic touch of his AI weapon finally registered, sending a cold chill down the former Marine’s spine and bringing him to full alert. It had been decades since he had felt that sort of urgency from the intelligent gun.
There had been no need for adrenaline or a defensive response for many years, and the man felt a brief flash of regret at that memory. Long ago, he had tried to come to his own peaceful acceptance of his altered circumstances. He was far removed from the urgency and the immediacy of his former life.
<< What? What’s the problem? >> grouched the man, resenting the interruption of a pleasant dream.
<< People are approaching, and the pattern of their movement says that they are not friends. >>
Old patterns reappeared under moments of stress, and Alan was no different than the rest of his old unit. << Report! >> he demanded.
<< Approximately five minutes ago, two vehicles approached our property. One of them stayed at the end of the drive and remains closed up. The other came halfway down the driveway, and a squad in loosely disciplined order spread from the vehicle leaving the driver inside. >>
<< Are there other signs of activity? >> Alan knew that the capabilities of the new weapon that housed his old friend included some features that hadn’t been fully explored by the two of them. The old soldier knew that was really his fault.
Arturis, the AI, had tried to share his enthusiasm for his new home, but Alan had sunk so far into despair that he couldn’t manufacture the energy. After a while, Arturis had stopped trying.
Quickly, the AI detailed the invaders’ setup of an observer post within the clump of trees closest to the house and their concealment of manacles in a bag that two men were now carrying toward the front door.
Grunting in effort, Alan swung himself into his motorized wheelchair and strapped the safety restraint across his waist. His mind was working furiously as he considered options, but could not find a clear course of action. Quickly, he asked his companion, << Do you have any suggestions? I can’t think of a defensible position here. >>
The AI’s mental voice was hesitant as he said, << You know that I have been playing a little bit with the upgraded capabilities that we have since Archmage Ruth replaced the old gun. >>
At Allen’s acknowledgment, Arturis continued, << Some of those capabilities allow me to mo
nitor and set up other units. Since you have been sleeping so much, I’ve been amusing myself by exploring the things that I can do. Some of your old unit members, both biological and AI, have been generous in supplying items for me to play with. >>
<< Stop worrying about whether I’m going to approve, and just tell me what options we have! We can argue about it later, but you know as well as I do that I’ve just been crawling into a hole. You shouldn’t feel responsible for that. It is my own cowardice, not yours. >>
Alan knew that the AI wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t cowardice, but the old soldier knew that he had been shutting down. He could feel the exact moment when Arturis decided to cut to the chase.
The AI went back into reporting mode as he said, << I placed observational units that are very small around our property. I also deployed some perimeter defenses that are not individually very powerful, but in aggregate will be a deterrent. Additionally, the perimeter of the house is guarded by stronger armor and weapons. >>
The wheelchair-bound former soldier felt an energizing wash of power run through him, and he sat up straighter in his motorized vehicle. An unfamiliar expression stretched his face, and he was surprised to realize that he was smiling.
<< Activate whatever passive protections that we have. Bring any weapons online that we need but don’t fire until they reveal their intentions. >>
<< Done. I don’t think we are going to have to wait long since they are climbing the porch steps right now. >>
Alan sent his wheelchair toward his front door while slipping his gun into his left hand. He was almost at the door when the hollow reverberation of strong knocks echoed through his mostly empty hallway.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Alan chose not to answer that preemptory sound and waited for a moment. He heard the murmur of conversation on the outside of the door but could not make out any specific words. Arturis said over their bond, << One of them wants to break in through the window, the other wants you to position yourself right by the door so they can take you out quickly. Apparently, they are after me, but they have orders not to kill you. >>
A sharp stab of fury brought a snarl to the retired soldier’s face as the threat to his companion did what no concern of his own danger would ever have done. The man who had been the leader of the planetary Marines for over a decade, commanding from the front lines, was on the edge of going berserk. Every one of his protective instincts had kicked in and what had been a mild challenge was now something far more severe.
“Maj. Culhane, the Council commands your appearance. You are directed to come with us, so please open the door.”
Arturis murmured, << That is the senior of the two. He probably thinks that we have a camera on the door because he is waving a fancy document in the air in front of it as if we were stupid enough to fall for that. >>
The snarl on the major’s face became a little more amused as he answered out loud, “I think you are confused, sir. I do not live in the town ruled by the Council, and I am no longer a member of the military under their command. In fact, since they disbanded the Navy, they have no military to command.”
Another voice intruded, snarling contemptuously, “You may have been important many years ago, old man, but now you have to obey your betters. Open this damn door, or we will break it down.”
“You are trespassing on private property, gentlemen. Please leave immediately, or I’m going to call law enforcement.”
The angry voice from outside continued at a shouting level, “They won’t do you any good, because we are going to have you gone before then. So open up the damn door and maybe we won’t kill you.”
Arturis said, << All defenses are now on active mode, and the weapons on the perimeter are live. Do you want to direct them? >>
<< You’re the one who’s been playing with them, not me. Don’t respond with deadly force unless they do something outrageous. Then let’s figure out what we are going to do because these jerks have seriously annoyed me! >>
In a private part of his mind, Arturis thought to himself, I suppose it is reprehensible of me, but I can’t help but be glad for the stupidity of these two. And the idiocy of whoever ordered them here. If I would’ve known long ago that attacking us would bring Alan out of depression, I would’ve engineered it myself.
No whisper of that came through their bond, and the old soldier was not interrupted as he listened to the forces outside start to deploy. The low hum of a force field could be felt in the hallway as the house’s defenses became active and ratcheted up. Curses from the two men on the porch started suddenly as small, and irritating shock attacks began to force their retreat from the house’s foundation.
Trusting his longtime companion, Major Alan Culhane (retired) set about planning the downfall of his enemies with a smile and reenergized appreciation for life. He was confined to a wheelchair, but there was nothing wrong with his brain. Perhaps, it was time for him to stop feeling sorry for himself and start to live again.
The retired Marine set about dragging things out of closets and neatly packing a bag. <
In a very short time, the now grinning man had packed his travel bag and made sure that he had plenty of ammunition. If he got jumped again, he wanted to be armed. For a Marine, there was nothing worse than running out of bullets or charges in a target-rich environment.
Quietly, Arturis rang the bartender at the Force X bar. Sending a message to Luka that summarized what had happened and requesting transport got an immediate promise of pickup within 10 minutes.
The AI weapon initiated routines that would secure the house against invaders and did all of the things that any good assistant would do. He was looking forward to their “vacation” and could feel a matching excitement bubbling up in the Major.
This was going to be fun.
Chapter 4 – Intelligence
Flag Bridge of the Tod Werfer
Gwilliam was scowling at the Analytical Intelligence report that covered the recent training exercise. Ninety-five casualties, five of them requiring extended med-bay time was unacceptable against no opposition, he thought to himself.
Examining all of the information in the report, the experienced mercenary Commander considered the possible contributions that resulted in excess injuries. After all, his soldiers were the base of his business. If they became injured, then it damaged his assets.
Even if the ground pounders comprised roughly twenty-two percent of recruits, there should have been fewer casualties. It was evident the recruits had not been trained up to the mercenary commander’s high standards. There has to be something more that is causing this, he thought. Gwilliam examined the report in greater detail and moved from disquiet to annoyance when he saw that ninety percent of the casualties were from the newly formed Ravager battalions.
To himself, Gwilliam could admit that he was probably more disapproving than he might have been if he were convinced about the Ravager battalion concept. The idea behind the group proposed using recruits from lower-tech or more violent societies to act as more expendable forces.
The mercenary commander had been uncomfortable with the existence of these units in his roster for several reasons. First of all, he did not subscribe to the idea of “expendable troops.” As a mercenary group head, he valued each and every person within his organization and did not like the idea that some of them were worth less consideration than others.
The other reason for Gwilliam’s uneasiness was that these forces were unlike any of his other specialized units. The radical difference made the effective deployment of the personnel more challenging, and his strategies for operations less agile.
Heg-sath, his tactical backup, had convinced him of the need for shock troops with a more brutal attitude and stronger aggression response. Since that profile included a mindset that would ignore casualties during an assault, the reptilian Satothian had gotten Gwilliam’s
provisional approval to testing the concept out. This training session had been that trial.
Unfortunately, the results only confirmed Gwilliam’s reservations.
The exercise had not been one where anyone would expect even a small number of casualties due to live fire. The training exercise had been a simple assault landing, something to keep the troops alert and ready to act while the ship traveled to their next destination. As a test, the Ravager concept had failed. As an exercise, the practice had succeeded in showing up shortfalls that were fixable.
Gwilliam was now stuck with a unit that was undertrained and already had been integrated with the remainder of his forces, at least minimally. There was no place to move these troops away from the others, so some accommodation would have to be made.
Underlying the unease that haunted the mercenary commander was the worry that soldiers who ignored casualties would train to a lower standard.
I can see that too many of the soldiers are trying to finesse their way out of the effort. That is exactly what would translate into fragmented and undependable forces, Gwilliam thought to himself.
Still pondering options, the mercenary commander checked the training logs. Highlighted in the simulator logs, it was clear that the Ravagers were putting in the least sim time of any unit. If their performance was stellar, that lack of practice could be excused. But with injuries and low effectiveness shown during the exercise, it was clear that the Ravagers were trying to slide by.
This would be something that their company was going to have to address carefully. Gwilliam had not expected a positive reaction from the rest of his forces to the formation of the Ravager battalions. He had thought that they would be accepted at best, but more likely resentful of the new groups. Instead, they were admired for their brutal efficiency by many of the others.
That admiration produced its own momentum. If Gwilliam chose to disband the Ravagers, he would have to be careful about how he did it or risk harming his entire force’s morale.
