But a few steps farther, Zy encountered withering fire and crouched behind his shield. He hid while his mind raced. Think fast! Sekkalan soldiers advanced on him from all sides, forcing their cautious steps toward the glowing, blue cloud that enveloped Zy.
Out of reflex, he again dropped his head to pray. That’s when he found his answer in the sparks that jumped between his shield and armor.
It will listen to you.
Zy rolled and stood. It is righteous power and you are the weapon!
He banged his sword against the front of his round shield.
It will obey your holy commands.
“Send them back to Hell!” he yelled. Jumping from his shield, blue lighting encircled and fastened to the blade. Thermal sensors in Zy’s armor chirped a warning about a dangerous external heat source. Zy ignored the warning and pointed the tip of the glaring, searing sword in the direction of the nearest Sekkalan soldiers. Rapid-fire flashes of white, gold, and blue exploded from the blade toward them and blasted through their red chested armor. Their remains collapsed into a messy heap.
Bang, bang.
Zy again struck his shield and took out three more of the approaching enemy.
Bang, bang, BANG.
More Sekkalans dropped. Others fled. Zy marched toward the shield projector.
BANG, BANG.
He raised his shimmering sword. “Destroy their shield!” He swung the sword downward. Lightning bolted from the blade’s tip and into the machine. But just then, multiple plasma rounds struck Zy in the abdomen while an enemy rocket detonated above him. The orange blast knocked him to the ground and he dropped his sword.
His faceplate cracked, Zy raised it and searched for his sword. Dizziness and nausea swept through him. He put his hand on his stomach. Blood covered his extremities. He struggled to his knees. The shield projector remained intact. With a bloody hand, he reached for and grasped his sword on the ground next to him.
The Sekkalans advanced again, their rifles aimed straight at him.
Zy swayed and took a deep breath. “Fear me!” he shouted.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
He swung the sword and its targets fell. With what felt like the last of his remaining strength, Zy stood. Embraced in blue radiance and staring at enemies that ran away when he beheld them, he strode toward the shield projector. Its annoying buzz vibrated harder through his skull with each step. As enemy fire resumed, strafing the nearby ground, Zy sprinted and rolled. He bounded for cover behind the shield projector, and then noticed its power cable. It snaked into the bridge’s ink and disappeared.
Bang. BANG.
The sword glowed once more. After setting his shield aside, Zy grasped the sword with both hands and raised it overhead. Pointed to the heavens, it sparked and smoldered, ready to obey its master. Zy stood and rotated the sword in his hands so that it pointed toward the ground. He aimed for the cable and drove the sword straight into it. Sparks jettisoned all around. The blue haze surrounding Zy swirled around him and disappeared into the cable, sending a rippling explosion of electricity along its length. As the shield projector screamed in sudden torment, Zy dove face first into the ground and covered his head. He heard and felt the device detonate, and he rolled over in time to watch a flaming plume of debris scatter into the sky.
“Shield is down!” Zy said into his radio. He started to repeat the call, but stopped as a tempest of plasma bolts surged into the battlefield from the rangers.
Taleer replied, “We copy you, Zy. What’s your status?”
As Zy lay there, he noticed blood running from his torso. An intense pain shot through his body, leaving him gasping for breath. The armor’s built in nano-tech first aid systems struggled to keep up. “I don’t…Standby.” He lowered his cracked faceplate and booted his HUD. “Standby.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the incoming feed from the grimp. Partial static mixed into the video image. Data indicated the grimp was in the midst of determining its location via celestial positioning processes. Zy also discerned the staff made it through to a terrestrial location. Wind fluttered the regimental colors. Beyond them he saw approaching Sekkalan soldiers. Formations of countless others stood at attention.
“Zy, come in.” Captain Taleer said, his voice crackling in Zy’s ears.
“Standby,” Zy said, struggling. Then, to himself, “Hurry, you little grimp.” He felt consciousness slipping away. Through sluggish eyes, he watched the grimp’s video feed. A Sekkalan soldier drew nearer to it. Red, glowing eyes peered into its optics.
“Come on, come on…”
The Sekkalan reached out and lifted the staff, jostling the grimp. The Sekkalan’s other hand came into view. It raised up Yuk’s Nihavinity chain and circle. Red eyes peered at the necklace while a sharp claw poked at it.
Zy heard a hiss come through the grimp’s audio feed just as the grid coordinates appeared in his HUD. The location indicator flashed the grimp’s position: SEKKALAN MOON.
With what little strength remained, Zy shouted, “Captain Taleer, FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!”
The monster tore the chain and circle from the staff, sending the grimp to the ground.
A sonic whoosh shuddered right by Zy. He felt as if the Supay shell had split the air just an arm’s length above him.
In his HUD, Zy watched Sekkalan boots and lower legs for just a few seconds more. Then, brilliant illumination filled the screen before it blacked out.
The inky sphere collapsed.
Although he couldn’t see them, Zy knew the other shield projectors had also shut down as their power source no longer existed. His pain returned, gathering him into mounting darkness.
Captain Taleer’s distant voice called through the intercom. “Zy, you there?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Zy said, weak and fading.
“You did it!”
“Yeah…we did…it…”
“Zy? Zy! Stay with me! We’re coming for you!”
<> <>
On the War Claw’s bridge, Commandant Boekkurs, the Sekkalan landing supervisor, approached Urhmikor Tekla and raised what he processed as an exigent issue.
“Sir, apparently a regiment-sized element of Mokisiaan regulars managed to overrun a drop ship readiness zone on their moon. They’ve captured many vessels and—”
“And significantly damaged legacy bridgehead infrastructure on Sekkalan in the attack as well,” Tekla said, a flat, even tone accompanying his words. “They also terminated nearly two thousand soldier units in the process. Complications that we will correct and overcome.”
“Yes, my Commander.”
“They also had heavy losses in the attack? The reports that I received were not clear in this aspect.”
Boekkurs shook his head. “We lost contact with our forces before we could discern this type of data.”
“Considering the outcome, I would say our enemy did not sustain heavy casualties.”
“Yes, my Commander. There was one unique report about a sword wielding, blue-eyed Mokisiaan—”
“Bad data. Delete it.”
“Yes, my Commander. We sent a probe down to the landing zone subsequent to the attack. None of the drop ships remained. We presume pilots of terrestrial-based craft helped exfiltrate them from the area. This suggests a—”
Tekla glared at Boekkurs and raised his voice. “What? Are you afraid they will use them against us? Fly them up here. Assault our warships? Even board them? Not likely.”
“The probability did cross my mind, sir, with respect. It was a tactical consideration, not a fearful one. My processes function within normal parameters.”
“These Mokisiaans are far too inferior in their current state to accomplish that kind of mission. The drop ships are but gnats. Hardly a viable weapon worth considering. They would more likely crash on their way to attack us than successfully penetrate our formidable defenses. They have probably crashed them already.”
“Yes, my Commander.”
“The drop ships have thin
armor and only carry strike rockets. They would be decimated by our plasma cannons. This is no threat. Delete it. Now, let’s move on to more relevant matters.”
Tekla and Boekkurs joined the other command staff in the bridge’s conference room. Once there, Tekla’s attention focused on the weapons specialist in the group, Sub-Commander Khoulq. “What update have you for Soul Savior?”
“The vessel capable of carrying a large scale instrument will be ready to launch any day now,” Khoulq said. “But based on ship losses entering the lower atmosphere on Mokisia, I recommend we continue to rely solely on the increasing number of S.S. soldiers moon side for now. The risk of losing the only ship of its kind is too great at this point.”
“Agreed,” Tekla said. “Besides, I have a special mission in mind for the S.S. ship. We will also need a contingent of S.S. soldiers to accompany it.”
Around the table, eyes widened and several heads spun in Tekla’s direction. Chief Scientist Rilz nodded and stiffened her posture. Some of the command staff had speculated about her increasing presence at these meetings. No data had been provided explaining it. Now, several of them detected what they thought was a smile on her rough, scaly face.
“Sub-Commander Khoulq,” Tekla said, “once the Soul Savior vessel is operational, its crew is to report to Chief Scientist Rilz. They will join with a convoy of escort ships designated to service the extension of our biological mission. This operation opens a second front in our war, and is intended to further enhance our forces, purify a newly discovered species, and expand our borders beyond the Sceytera system. We will bring light to the galaxy. Operation Lucidity is the spark, and we are the flames. More importantly, our Ruuksauro overlords have sanctioned this mission. Which is why, Sub-Commander Khoulq, I will need you to accompany the convoy. Your Soul Savior expertise is absolutely necessary to ensure its success.”
Khoulq’s eyes blinked. He stuttered. Biomechanical systems kicked in to subdue the tightening in his chest and slow his racing mind. After several seconds, he said, “Yes, my Commander, I am honored. I look forward to our victory.”
“Good, I knew you would,” Tekla said.
Chapter 10
Transitions and Revelations
The doors at the back of the Karanja-class, high-altitude stealth transport scrolled open, letting in the howl of the thin atmosphere that rushed by. The mission of a lifetime beckoned just outside those doors, but apprehension gripped Krajenar as she watched the black void whip past the rear of the transport. Doubt about her very survival filled her mind and sent trembling waves through her body.
She inhaled a slow, deep breath. The act—a triggering mechanism—succeeded. In duplicating several Sekkalan neural implants, Krajenar’s surgeon had hardwired the release of anxiety suppressors based on certain physical criteria and prompts that he and Krajenar had selected prior to the surgery.
Krajenar reached up and scratched at a small circular plate on the back of her head where the surgeon had removed several outer layers of leathery skin and inserted a microscopic data and program interface through her skull and into her brain’s outer membrane. Within several minutes of insertion, the device stimulated two-way electrical connections between it and nerve centers throughout Krajenar’s brain, allowing it to receive data as well as transmit instructions to her body. On her scalp, the metal plate served as a kind of keyhole escutcheon—a port through which she could connect to other devices.
To Krajenar’s touch, the metal plate felt both mundane and alien.
Her thoughts turned to Taulan, remembering his eyes during transport to the forward tactical air base. They had conveyed acceptance of her partial conversion using Sekkalan technology and hadn’t shown any worry.
“If anything,” Taulan had whispered to her, “it just made you even smarter than you already are. Nihav save us.”
As their personal relationship was still discreet, circumstances during their transport to the airbase and before the Karanja departed prevented any physical affection. Except for one moment. After Major Attazahal ordered several enlisted personnel to provide her with the brief use of a private office for a classified conversation with Major Vritak, she and Taulan were able to hold each other.
“You are very brave, and I know this has to be done,” Taulan said. “But please come back to me. I need you as much as Mokisia needs you.”
“Whatever happens, Tau, be strong, like always. This war is only just beginning, but I know that we will win, and I plan to win it alongside you.”
Taulan remained by her until she boarded the Karanja. They exchanged bows and she boarded the craft. Her only regret was not being able to see her father before departure. She wondered if he would have approved of this unorthodox course of action. No. Not yet. Her father was always about results. He would display approval, but only if she succeeded.
With that in mind, the enemy returned to Krajenar’s thoughts. Sekkalan ground forces, aided by asymmetrical quantum bridge exit deployments, had continued regular incursions. They captured more Mokisiaan prisoners. Odd—but increasing—reports from Mokisiaan troops hinted that some Sekkalan soldiers wielded strange equipment that seemed to give them mind control and telekinetic capabilities. They dubbed them “K’rots,” after the venomous black wildcats that stalked the jungles of Esmeria, and whose tails cast incapacitating barbs into their prey up to thirty meters away.
Sekkalan superiority in space also persisted. Although offensive preparations stirred in the Ei’veth, an assault had not yet launched. Krajenar hoped Captain Taleer’s plan to plate the drop ships with kojan tyk would work. She had heard that senior Kal’iveths from other units had joined the rangers, and metallurgists had also coated the strike rockets with kojan tyk, but she was told the reason for this was “classified.”
In the meantime, at least Mokisiaan missile batteries and DEW platforms continued to protect against enemy bombardment or anything substantial that broke atmosphere. Those advantages, along with successes like that of the Ei’veth Forest Rangers, helped to keep Mokisiaan morale alive. They were outclassed, but they were not helpless.
Risk still existed, and for Krajenar, risk after risk comprised this whole mission. The stealth technology that cloaked the Karanja in a sensor-safe envelope only provided a fine line between secrecy and detection. Krajenar half expected the comm link in her helmet to shrill at any moment with warnings about incoming enemy fire. But the comms remained quiet. And soon, the green ready light pulsed near the drop door. As soon as the strobe activated, the first few special forces soldiers among the strike team jumped out the door.
One after the other, additional team members led the way out. Then, it was Krajenar’s turn. She took another slow, deep breath, which gave her the courage to unlock her feet from the deck plates and step into the darkness.
Now, the squad streaked away from the faint silhouette of their aircraft. In a staggered formation, they fell like arrows into the night, striking out to spear the pitch-black landscape below.
Krajenar tucked her arms tight against her body. Gravity’s full supremacy accelerated her downward. She sucked in the oxygen from her backpack tank while her helmet tried to dull the howl of the air rushing past. The aerodynamic, low-signature bodysuit she wore fought off most of the intense cold from the upper atmosphere. The suits that kept Krajenar and the rest of the Mokisiaan team alive also dampened their external heat signatures, making them appear as cold, minute smears to ground-based heat sensors.
No features presented themselves against the dim landscape below. No lights glimmered. From what Krajenar’s team had learned, the enemy didn’t need visible light to function. Their alterations included the addition of optical sensors, giving them glowing, red eyes, letting them thrive in darkness.
As green altimeter digits clicked away on her HUD, Krajenar fell closer to the legacy bridgehead below along with the other team members. Like other legacy bridges on Mokisia, the Sekkalans used this one for prisoner transport to an unknown exit node. In
filtrating the node’s exit point, determining its location, the prisoners’ circumstances, and gaining access to the Sekkalan computer network were the mission’s key priorities. Sabotage was secondary and combat was to be avoided at all costs.
On her HUD, Krajenar superimposed and synchronized a tactical geo-data screen against the featureless gloom below. The quantum bridge appeared at the heart of the Sekkalan encampment, which was well behind the frontlines. The bridge’s faint glow was still too dim for Krajenar to see without the data display. According to their intel, the rolling hills and concrete platforms surrounding it crawled with at least a brigade of Sekkalan soldiers.
If Krajenar’s calculations about its visual radiance remained correct, they would see the actual bridge a thousand meters up. That would be too late if their initial aim point was wrong. Factoring in wind drift, Krajenar used guidance fins on her suit to aim a few degrees west of the bridge. With no parachutes, they only had one shot at penetrating the ink. If their inbound vector was wrong, no redemption would save them from a certain crushing end.
Although such drops had occurred during recon operations against Esmeria, Krajenar held fragile trust in the reality of whatever passed for physics in the strange interior of the quantum bridges. One irrefutable law indicated the bridges reflected the angle of incidence of whoever entered it with a loss of half their speed. For Krajenar and her special forces soldiers, this meant they would exit the bridge at half their airspeed and at an opposite, or upward, angle, as if they were balls bounced off the surface of a playing field.
The nine Mokisiaans sliced through the air at ever-mounting velocity, cold shadows to the very end. On her tactical display, Krajenar saw the first four icons of her team wink out of existence. She hissed as sudden uncertainty gripped her. She had no idea if they transitioned through the bridge or if they had missed and impacted the ground.
War Torrent Page 9
