War Torrent

by Daniel P. Douglas

  We’ve notified the nascent colony leadership on Oeskone of the disappearance and have requested their assistance in locating the ship, its crew, and researchers. Of course, we provided a simple mineralogical survey cover story to them. Their leader is a scientist himself, a man from Earth named Abraham Harel, and he seemed most concerned and very cooperative. If the colonists have stumbled onto any Mineral 99 ruins out there, he gave no hint of it.

  One intriguing aspect of the thin lead our researchers were following included vague references—in decrypted, but incomplete Mineral 99 data—that suggested a distinctive vessel of theirs had once used the hub as a kind of homeport. The ship supposedly wielded a powerful “brain” and “energy” weapon. Although far from certain at this point, it is possible this ship’s weapon was telekinetic in nature. It is certainly a facet worthy of additional investigation.

  Given the overall circumstances, perhaps the Intel Branch may consider the colony on Oeskone a suitable location for source targeting and development or penetration if it hasn’t already.

  Mineral 99

  Sensitive Compartmentalized Intelligence

  **EXEC**LEVEL I DISSEM**ONLY**

  Eigil Damgaard, Chief Archeologist

  Science, Research, and Development Branch

  Frontier Combine Metallurgical Enterprise

  Classified Internal Communication, 31 May 2312

  <> <>

  Hearing yet another drum and strings patriotic melody float out of the tavern’s sound system, Major Krajenar Attazahal propped a rough elbow onto the empty bar top. She cracked one more delikos nut between the hard edges of her mouth, and then snatched the innards with her forked tongue. She flitted the empty shell halves down onto a waiting platter. A few dozen other shells already lay scattered on the plate. Growing inebriation from the savory nuts had stolen a piece of her mental acuity and even more of her respect.

  The burnished copper backsplash behind the bar showed a dim reflection, that of an approaching, imposing individual. Anyone else would have been impossible to identify, but her father’s figure was too familiar not to recognize.

  Garakus’s gravelly voice remained just as familiar too. “You know, getting drunk in wartime is illegal, Kraj.”

  Krajenar offered an imprecise wave and issued an excuse in the face of parental scolding. She had answered to her father all of her life, and even shaped a whole career around his expectations in order to one day escape them. At the moment, escape never seemed further away. “It will be three hours before the next data evaluation process is finished. There is nothing to do but wait. Our forces are managing to keep the enemy clear of the capital for now, but only with much sacrifice and high casualties.”

  “I know.”

  The brief response was all Krajenar would get. Her father would never agree that the rules could be set aside just this once. Garakus settled into the seat next to his daughter and accepted a beaker of sparkling fruit nectar from the bartender.

  “You have many reasons to crack open more than few of those nuts. Which one of those reasons actually brought you here?”

  Krajenar shook her head at the way her father could always insinuate failure even while sounding concerned about helping her succeed. “How many battles have we fought, father? How many times have we seen what was coming, and told our troops what they needed to do? How did we stay ahead of the enemy all those years? Was it really just due to our technological advantages? Have I really just gotten lucky all those times?”

  “What are you really asking?”

  “Damn our ancestors, Father. Was I not that good? Am I just a hack who got lucky because of the advantages we had? That I had?”

  “Precarious thoughts, Kraj.”

  “Thoughts that need to be dealt with. If I am the wrong one for this, I need to say it. I can’t let us all die because my pride blinds us to reality.”

  “It isn’t just your pride. It is the honor of our family. You can either surrender that, or rise to match it.”

  “Rise? So you are saying I am not already worthy of my reputation.”

  Garakus nearly reached for one of the delikos nuts himself. “I haven’t smacked you over the head since you were half your size. I should now, but I want you to listen instead. Victory is never final, and failure is never fatal, unless you quit trying! Think, Kraj. When we have faced our enemies, we have embraced their way of thinking. We are all Angorgals in the end. Once we understood the respective subsects, we could anticipate what they would do before they did it themselves. We could also identify vulnerabilities.”

  Krajenar sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I am not sure these monsters can be called Angorgals anymore, Father. They are so different, so alien. How can we defeat that? How can we think like that?”

  “I’ve already given you the answer.”

  “You want me to think like a soulless, twisted machine-creature?”

  “They are Angorgal, Kraj. They became what they are from us. Discover why, and you will have your answers. You can do this. Keep trying and prove it to yourself, and then take us all to victory.”

  <> <>

  As the latest battle status reports entered his mind, Urhmikor Tekla felt diminutive tingling sensations throughout his body, the result of a multitude of connections between micro processers and Sekkalan Angorgal brain matter. He dismissed the feeling and accessed the contents of the reports. The information integrated into Tekla’s consciousness, a crossroads of data from across the invasion operations. He analyzed the intelligence, and then addressed his cohorts.

  “I have accessed all of the information you have sent to me. The battle goes well despite dense resistance in and around the Mokisiaan capital. For this reason, turning members of their own population against them on Mokisia is more important than on any other moon. We must crush their spirit. Then, we can take their brokenness and show them the right path. This course of action will, of course, increase our demand on the legacy bridges on Mokisia in the short term as we send their prisoners through for conversion.”

  Commandant Boekkurs, the landing supervisor, raised an operational issue. “This may result in the need to allocate additional resources to the defense of the quantum bridges. It may slow other operations.”

  Tekla nodded. “Our Ruuksauro leaders have designated me as the core processor for balancing the benefits of commencing the conquering protocols with such issues as conversions. We will subsequently deploy these converted resources in battle. Not only will they fight for us, but they will also provide a superior psychological weapon against the impure. This will contribute to diminishing Mokisiaan resistance.”

  No further divergence arose. One issue raised, and one issue silenced. No one ever questioned Tekla twice. Certainty made it so.

  With clarity established, the weapons specialist in the group, Sub-Commander Khoulq, raised a supporting idea. “Additional operational advantages may be achieved with implementation of the Project Soul Savior soldiers.”

  Tekla hissed and then raised his voice. “Your latest status reports indicated the S.S. soldiers were not ready for field operations. Do you have additional data that you are now authorized to share with us? Are you guilty of breaking classified information protocols? Do you have a glitch?”

  Sub-Commander Khoulq closed his eyes. After a few moments, his eyelids fluttered and then he opened his eyes. “Interruptions to recent regeneration periods have hindered some data transfer processes. However, no security protocols violated. Permission authorized to share updated information.”

  Tekla crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze on Khoulq. “Proceed, and Sub-Commander Khoulq, in the future, please ensure that all updated information is in your status reports.”

  “Yes, my Commander.”

  “And keep the Soul Saviors explanation simple. You are talking to warriors, not scientists.”

  “Yes, my Commander.”

  Khoulq cleared his throat and stood. “For those in the group who are not aware, Soul Savior,
or S.S., refers to a psycho-telekinetic weapon under development. It essentially taps into the mind of its user, amplifies messages and thoughts, and projects them at targets. The user can manipulate, incapacitate, or destroy these targets. Its full potential is yet unknown. Of course, a cadre of adept soldiers is necessary for its success too.”

  With the exception of Tekla, the other Sekkalans in the conference room stirred.

  Continuing, Khoulq said, “As of late yesterday, we have several working harnesses that have passed all of the necessary tests. We also have multiple soldiers capable of field deployment. There are other soldiers in various stages of training and evaluation for the project. Interface modifications proceed on many of those who show promise. We can increase harness manufacturing at any time. Soon, we should even have a vessel capable of carrying a large scale Soul Savior instrument for wide-area influence.”

  Tekla and the other Sekkalans obviously recognized the significance of such a weapon. Manipulation and control of false-minded Mokisiaans represented an exponential advance in warfare.

  Tekla stood amidst the rising mumbling. To Khoulq, but loud enough for all to hear, he said, “Coordinate the details with Commandant Boekkurs to integrate the S.S. soldiers into the landing operations around the Mokisiaan capital. Soon, all of Mokisia will fall.”

  With that, Tekla turned and exited the conference room, now aware that at least one additional member of the command staff had also met with interruptions to regeneration periods.

  Chapter 7

  Ameo Nihav

  In the Ei’veth Forest, a growing number of troops from the Ranger Regiment encircled approximately thirty Sekkalan drop ships, their crews, and a security detachment. Surveillance and intelligence collection stood as the regiment’s primary objectives. The rangers held authorization to attack but only if the ships and their crews prepared for departure. They would have their battle soon enough, but accomplishment of other objectives held priority.

  Five Puch-Tabai VTOL troop carriers had departed the Forest less than thirty minutes ago. Once clear of the tree-covered mountainous terrain, they hugged the rolling grass-covered hills toward the capital city. Their crews and occupants hoped to skirt enemy positions between Ei’veth and the city. Arriving at their destination in one piece was their only immediate objective.

  Communication outages necessitated use of the troop carriers for travel to the Mokisiaan military intelligence service headquarters. The rangers needed key intelligence to support a battle plan conceived by a blue-eyed Kal’iveth and his mentors. But some within the cramped troop carriers endured nervous uncertainty about whether such intelligence even existed.

  “And hell, the whole damn HQ may be blown to smithereens by now for all we know,” Yuk said.

  “We must try, Corporal,” Captain Taleer said. “Have faith. Look at Zy, he has faith.”

  Yuk peered around his superior, nearly falling out of his seat from the bumpy ride.

  Head cradled between his hands, Zy swayed and bounced. He moaned.

  Yuk leaned back. “Oh, yeah, he’s got faith alright. Looks like he’s about to lose that faith, along with his breakfast, all over the floor any second.”

  Sharp, piercing blasts interrupted Captain Taleer’s next words. The booms shuddered through the Puch-Tabai’s hull. Electrical sparks jettisoned from panels inside the transport’s bulkheads. Screams erupted from the pilot’s cabin. The carrier twisted into an abrupt descent, smoke filling its interior. Turbine engines howled while everything else crackled and turned sideways.

  <> <>

  Blurriness gave way to a partial view of smoke and flames. Zy unbuckled his seatbelt, but nausea and pain restrained him. Someone grabbed hold and dragged him forward through a breach near the flight deck. A bloody, twisted heap of death was all that remained of the Puch-Tabai’s pilot and co-pilot.

  Outside, in the bright, late-morning sun, Zy shielded his eyes. His rescuer plopped him down behind some debris where a couple of other crash survivors had gathered.

  “Thank you, Yuk,” Zy said.

  “All in a day’s work, buddy.”

  “Where’s the Captain?”

  “On the other side of the carrier with a few others. We’re going to hold until transports turn around and get us. We were trailing, so it may take a few before they rally and save our asses.”

  “What happened?”

  “Not sure, probably a SAM of some type. But whatever it was, I suspect those guys were behind it,” Yuk said, pointing.

  Zy rolled onto his belly. A squad-sized element of Sekkalan soldiers appeared over a hill about three hundred meters away. From the opposite side of the Puch-Tabai, Zy heard Captain Taleer’s voice.

  “Mass shell going out!”

  A thump and whoosh sound told Zy that a soldier with the Captain had just fired a troop-deployed cluster bomb. A split second later, an orange burst of fire over the Sekkalan squad sent them all to the ground.

  Hoots and hollers, including a few from Zy, hushed in an instant. More than a squad of Sekkalans now appeared over the hill. This time, a formation of at least one hundred of the enemy trudged forward. Some of the Sekkalans blasted rapid-fire, directed energy cannons with multiple rotating barrels. Their bolts of indiscriminate plasma rounds kept everyone’s heads down and ignited several grass fires.

  “Fire at will!” Captain Taleer said.

  While a handful of blue bolts whistled back at the approaching Sekkalan horde, Yuk pulled up alongside Zy and readied a mass shell of his own. Thump and whoosh, and then more of the enemy collapsed. Others sprang for cover.

  “That should slow them a bit,” Yuk said. “Or just make them really mad. Wish we had a few more of those cluster shells.”

  As Yuk aimed his pulse rifle at the enemy, Zy struggled to understand how his comrade remained so at ease in combat, so brave.

  “Don’t look at me,” Yuk said. “Look at the enemy and by all means, please shoot at them too. They want to kill you.”

  Zy peered down the sights of his rifle. Black, distant masses scurried back and forth, and in their direction. He squeezed the trigger. Harder and harder. “Damn.” The safety remained engaged. Zy released it with a fast thumb click. The next trigger pull succeeded. Its significance as the first time that he fired his weapon in combat did not escape Zy.

  But through the din of the firefight, someone shouted, “Incoming!”

  Zy halted his movement, lowered his face into the ground, and clasped his hands over his head.

  “Stay low, buddy,” Yuk said, pressing down on top of Zy. ”Ameo Nihav.”

  A deafening roar. Tumbling and rolling followed. Landing on his back, Zy peered at the sky through dazed perception. Clamorous bells rang in his ears.

  “Yuk!” Zy yelled.

  Overhead, Puch-Tabai transports arrived, moving almost in slow motion. Circling, their gunners fired down at the enemy soldiers, tearing into them.

  “Yuk!”

  One of the transports circled lower than the others. It kicked up dust and debris.

  Zy pried himself away from the ground and sat up. Through the hazy, sluggish scene, Zy saw his comrades running to the Puch-Tabai hovering nearby.

  “Let’s go!” Captain Taleer said, scooping up Zy on his way to the troop carrier. Plasma bolts zipped all around them.

  Resisting, Zy shouted, “Yuk!”

  “He’s gone, Zy.”

  “No!”

  “He’s with Nihav now. We must go.”

  Captain Taleer hauled Zy into the transport and slammed the hatch closed. Within seconds, all of the remaining Puch-Tabais skittered away toward the capital city.

  Chapter 8

  Faith, Prophecies, and Plans

  Krajenar and her team members spread themselves around their conference room. Shells of cracked-open, caffeine-soaked guannak nuts lay scattered all around. The group, looking listless and half-beaten, was hurling more honesty at each other than ever before. Heavy sighs, groans, hissing, and bared teeth p
unctuated the various conversations underway.

  Major Taulan Vritak stared at Krajenar from across the room while a subordinate whispered in his ear. Krajenar peered at them over the data pad cradled in her hands. Her eyes danced between Taulan and incoming combat reports. Each report was a lead, maybe, that would show…something. A pattern…hints of a vulnerability…a glimmer of wisdom from the awful bloodletting that would suggest a worthwhile course of action.

  Eyes fixed now on the data pad, Krajenar clawed hard at its display screen. She scrolled through multiple independent reports about Sekkalan bridge redirections. Data indicated they had correlated to prisoner movements.

  “I think we may have something.”

  Krajenar looked up. Taulan stood before her. “What? Did you say something? You have more advice for me?”

  Taulan stood firm and shook his head. “I think we may have something.”

  Before Krajenar had time to respond, the room’s intercom speakers erupted.

  “Major Attazahal, Ei’veth Forest Rangers are here to see you,” the voice announced.

  “Ei’veth?” Krajenar said, grimacing. She shook her head. “Tell them to stand by. We’ll be down to see them in a few moments.”

  “Uh, they are already on their way up, ma’am,” the overhead voice said. Stumbling on his next words, the voice continued. “They have Kal’iveths with them and they were very insistent. And their swords are very sharp. Never saw any up close until today.”

  Krajenar swiveled her head to the left. Her blinking eyes gazed upon several worn out, dirty, and bloodstained soldiers who exited elevators into the conference room’s foyer. Heavy footsteps thumped and battle armor rattled, drawing everyone’s attention. While guards at the entrance halted the outsiders, Krajenar thought she recognized one of the approaching rangers. He was tall, with stark blue eyes. The vague familiarity compelled her to intervene.