by JR Handley
Basil and Lance stood behind her in their combat armor as they watched her work her magic. Lance marveled at how easily his XO navigated the complex coding of the system despite being submerged in water. When she stopped to look back, he figured it was time to see if all this planning would pay off.
“Sirs, I’m ready to reroute the emergency surfacing protocols on your command,” said Wires.
Instructing Xena to link him into all habdisk speakers, Lance ordered all personnel to account for their numbers then seal their doors. When Xena indicated all personnel were safely sealed behind watertight doors and hatches, Lance turned to Wires and ordered her to hit the authorization key.
Her index finger depressed the button, and she began looking around. All three of their heads rotated on a swivel, expecting the roar of grinding rock. After thirty seconds of silent stillness, Lance looked over at Basil.
“What’s going on? Why isn’t anything happening?”
“Wait for it,” Basil replied.
On cue, the ground began to vibrate. The vibration grew into a rumble as the habdisk began its parallel boring process. Feeling like an earthquake, the three moved to the bulkhead next to the wall terminal and braced against it to keep from toppling over. As they bounced, Lance re-opened comms with Basil.
“Great work, Basil. Your plan is coming together perfectly. After we move this water, we need to start sanitizing the space. I assume you already have a plan in place?”
“I’m on it, Captain.”
As Basil outlined his plan, the contaminated water around them intensified from a gentle current into a roaring vortex. Pieces of debris ripped free and whizzed past them at high speed as they clung to the safe sanctuary the computer terminal made next to the wall.
“Have your AIs mag-lock your armor to the floor and wall,” Lance shouted over the roar of the water.
Feeling his body lock into place, Lance relaxed his grip on the wall. Basil continued outlining his plan to sanitize, and the water continued its onslaught past them. Long after Basil finished, the water was still draining. They stood in silence, waiting, until finally the water began to subside. Though it seemed like it lasted for days, Lance knew the drain had only lasted a few hours.
When the water was gone, leaving nothing but puddles in its wake, Lance spoke over the habdisk speakers.
“Mission accomplished! The water is drained. Be warned, the waterlogged spaces are still contaminated. With that being said, we all have a long day of sanitizing ahead of us tomorrow. So, get some rest and prepare yourselves and your gear – we still have work to do.”
Smiling beneath his helmet visor, Lance looked at Wires and Basil. “Good thing we have magnetic locks on our armor, right?”
Before either could reply, Xena chimed in over their helmet comms.
Why didn’t you guys just remotely activate the program from the safety of your racks? You could’ve spent the time resting, or dancing the horizontal mambo with whatever, or whomever caught your fancy.
“Disregard that, Marines,” Lance blurted out. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, dismissed.”
Wires and Basil walked away laughing while Lance trailed behind them having a “conversation” with Xena.
— Chapter 29 —
Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 2
5th Regiment Modular Housing, New Detroit City, Baylshore
19th BN, 5th RGT, New Detroit Human Legion
Lance Corporal Kovet Bolnar leaned drunkenly against one of the many destroyed walls within Old Detroit City as he passed his down time with his fire team. Kovet was chatting with his mates, gambling, and drinking grok when a female walked up to them. The sun blazed behind her, but even as a silhouette shadow, they couldn’t help but notice the curvaceousness of her lithe, compact body.
“Afternoon, Marines, mind if I join you?” said Jennifer Boon.
She wasn’t wearing her major rank insignia and had unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, so her cleavage was on full display. As agent Alpha Sierra 87, she was the striking arm of Spartika’s private war against their shared enemy, Field Marshal Nhlappo. Even as she said Nhlappo’s name in her head, she layered it in condescension.
The Marines invited Jennifer into the circle and reset the game on the holopack. The group leered at her as they made small talk. The conversation shifted to a more carnal nature, and Jennifer smiled as she diverted to the topic all troops were talking about – food.
“Any of you have some food hidden away? I’d do things you’ve only dreamt about for a full meal right now,” said Jennifer.
That single statement was the spark. The conversation about food began to escalate into an inferno of rage. It got louder and louder as a crowd formed around them to listen in and shout out what they had heard.
“The officers are hoarding it all!” one Marine shouted.
“I heard the field marshal has found food, but is hiding it from us!” another Marine added.
The mob began to get louder and more violent as their bellies outran their grok-addled brains. Kovet quickly stepped to the forefront, taking a leadership role over the mob.
Jennifer Boon grinned as she faded back into shadow.
“This never would’ve happened under Jotun leadership!” said Kovet. He was pleased to see nods of agreement and shouts of solidarity. That was all he needed as he moved to action. “Let’s get rid of the pretenders, down with the fake officers!”
The mob roared in agreement. Their starving bellies and drunkenness giving them all the courage they needed. Riding the momentum, Kovet grabbed his carbine from where he’d stacked them with his fire team and headed toward the nearest ready room. He shouted for the others to follow.
“You can stay here and starve,” Kovet said over his shoulder as he pumped his SA-71 over his head. “Or you can help me kill these frakkers and feast on the food they have hidden away!”
Bolstered by Kovet’s alcohol-fueled fire, courage, and the brilliance of his hatred, other Marines grabbed their weapons and followed him. In under a minute, they were outside a ready room door. Letting loose a rally cry, Kovet kicked the door with every ounce of power his drunken body could produce.
The officers of 19th Battalion, 5th Regiment looked up, startled by the scream and door bursting open. It was too late. Marines fueled by grok, hunger, and an uncertain future opened fire. They continued firing long after the officers were dead. Before the red mist had settled back to the ground, Kovet spun and left the ready room hunting for more targets.
Railgun carbines make a distinctive sound, and the massive number of shots fired by the mutineers caught the attention of the camp security detail. Trained to expect the worst, they sounded the base alarm as New Detroit city went into a high alert status. Marines dumped out of their modular housings, fully armed and expecting a Hardit attack. When the front lines reported up their chain of command that all was quiet, the search turned inward. The base AI quickly established that this had been a mutiny and alerted them.
Following the directives of the base AI, they pinpointed the location where the insurgency happened and guards were dispatched. Marines secured the scene where the slaughter occurred, and tapped into the security software to upload video of the event. With the culprits discovered, and their faces loaded onto every helmet reticle on base, Kovet and his co-conspirators were located attempting to blend into the crowd.
When the mutineers were surrounded, some of them threw down their arms, placing their fate at the mercy of Human Legion justice. Others chose to die fighting, and opened fire only to be killed in a hail of sabots. When the gunfire stopped, forty Marines were lined up and disarmed to await justice.
Twenty minutes after the mutiny had started, General Spartika was called to convene a court martial and administer discipline, which was her role as the Executive Officer. She arrived as the last few Marines were stripped of their weapons.
Captain Logan Rapossian, the commander of Golf Company, snapped to attention and reported in.
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“General Spartika, ma’am, we’ve caught the traitorous mutineers, taken forty alive, and now they’re awaiting the arrival of Field Marshal Nhlappo to render justice. At a minimum, she needs to be made aware that–”
Before he could finish explaining anything, General Spartika cut him off.
“I am the XO, and I handle discipline. I will tell the Field Marshal what she needs to know. Now, show me the security videos.”
When the captain didn’t move quick enough, General Spartika shoved him toward the destroyed ready room and followed behind him.
The carnage in the modular building was stomach churning. Blood was spattered everywhere and bits of grey matter dripped noisily from the back of one of the unfortunate officer’s skull onto the recently mopped deck. Spartika’s AI used the nearest table’s holo-display to access the security footage.
She paused the footage to view and enhance the faces of those involved. Nodding to herself, satisfied that she had the guilty party, Spartika returned to the line of Marine mutineers. Walking down the line she stopped in front of Lance Corporal Kovet Bolnar, who swayed drunkenly.
Raising her Flenser pistol, Spartika calmly placed the muzzle between the eyes of Kovet. “You have been charged, convicted, and found guilty of the crime of treason and mutiny. You’ve been deemed guilty of the murder of sixteen officers from your battalion. Your pleading is irrelevant. For your crimes, I hereby sentence you to death. Do you have any last words?”
Standing up straighter, Kovet stared Spartika in the eyes and said, “We never should’ve surrendered at Khallini. Death to the Legion!”
The echo of his words carried until the sound of a solitary Flenser round discharging silenced the echo. In its place was only the sound of death. Spartika turned to Captain Rapossian.
“Kill the rest, I’ve found them guilty. Report back to me, and only to me, when it’s done. Dismissed”
Walking away with her security detail behind her, Spartika smiled as she heard a single shot fired. Then another. Then another. Spartika knew each executed Marine was more than a dead body, it was a nail in Nhlappo’s coffin. Her plan was coming to fruition.
— Chapter 30 —
Early Evening, Post-Revival Day 2
Subterranean Utility Tunnels, Beta City, Serendine
6th New Order Janissary RGT
The drip, drip, drip of the water landing in the myriad of puddles permeating the subterranean tunnel was a constant source of distraction to Subaltern Flaxoris Bolaea-Yatap. Leading the squad of New Order Janissaries on a routine patrol through the tunnels under Beta City, the Janissary’s furry ears motioned toward each drip. The squad maintained vigilance as they tested the limits of their new stealth armor. While patrols on Serendine were devoid of enemy contact from the wastes of humanity, discipline was still rigidly enforced by Flaxoris.
Flaxoris was the youngest and most inexperienced officer in the 6th Janissary Regiment. A pure Janissary, spawned free of gender, Flaxoris desperately sought to prove his worth. Despite the purity of being genderless, being smaller made Flaxoris look male. The small size was also the reason the Janissary was chosen for recon patrols.
As the point squad for his regiment’s training patrols, Flaxoris was tasked with investigating the strange signals emanating from the bowels of Beta City. It was his mission to serve as the tip of the spear for the regimental commander.
Despite the dangers of leading the point element, Flaxoris took comfort knowing his regiment of crack Janissary troops would rush to his aid. Without realizing he was doing it, the Flaxoris looked over his shoulder where he knew the rest of his regiment patrolled. While his three eyes couldn’t see them, he knew they were there.
After making it three quarters of the way to their objective, Flaxoris began receiving reports of strange noises from his point man and called his unit to a halt. As he began scanning the readings on his recon tablet, he noticed motion from his forward most recon drone. There were also inconsistent heat readings. Deciding to be more cautious, he advanced in a tight formation that concentrated and maximized their firepower, fearing they were walking into a trap.
Moving forward on all fours with his body close to the ground and weapon tightly gripped by his tail, Flaxoris could feel the ground lightly vibrating. His large ears perked and he could hear a soft roaring sound. Worried there was a cave-in ahead, and that they might by blocked from forward progress, he emitted a soft growl which initiated a halt. Looking again for drone readings, he shook the tablet attached to his arm. The drone was now offline.
With a cautious growl, Flaxoris signaled the squad to advance. As a recon element, they would have to investigate. Positioning himself behind the safety of the squad, they continued moving forward. The roaring grew in intensity, and the ground began to shake more violently.
The danger never fully registered. In its place, a wall of cold water rushed toward him, sweeping his unit up like rag dolls and throwing them against the stone tunnel walls. Still trying to maintain command, he checked the recon tablet on his arm as he was swept away by the water. Smashing into a wall and almost losing consciousness, he watched the vital signs of his squad drop off the radar.
The last thought Flaxoris had before he drowned in the icy waters of Lake Sarpedona was regret that his stealth armor wasn’t sophisticated enough to survive in prolonged exposure to void conditions.
— Chapter 31 —
Early Evening, Post-Revival Day 2
Front Lines, New Detroit City, Baylshore
1st Section, 3rd SQD, Recon Co., 1st Spec Ops BN, 3rd Independent Spec Ops RGT
The New Detroit front lines were a formidable stretch of two interlocking jagged trenches, with a third line of hasty firing holes behind them, making a frontal assault inadvisable. Along those lines glinted the metallic rifles of the Marines in Field Marshal Nhlappo’s New Detroit Regional Army. Interlaced with the actual railguns, both those held by the Marines and the larger ones mounted and controlled by an AI, were several artillery positions and numerous cyberwarfare sensor stations. These cyberwar stations were designed to detect any approaching sentient life or automated machinery well in advance of its arrival into the New Detroit kill zone.
These sensors, however, were left over from previous eras and not calibrated for the stealth technology of the ACE-3 Combat Suits used by Recon Marines. While the AIs and the 5th Regiment Human Legion Marines were diligently scanning the reports provided by the sensors, they missed the Recon Marines in the woods in front of them. Further, they failed to detect the dying Hardits on the floor of the hide used by the 1st Section, 3rd Squad, Reconnaissance Company Marines.
More surprisingly, these Marines and machines tasked with observing these woods in front of them missed the commotion created by Corporal Leonidas Betche’s Beta Fire Team dragging several dead Hardits. Neither the noise of dragging the dying creatures, nor their heat signatures set off any sensors.
Interesting, our lines are weaker than our officers know, mused Lance Sergeant Baird Pond.
Baird, the section leader and most experienced Marine in the company, had been sitting for hours. This wasn’t unusual for Recon Marines, but doing so with his rifle facing toward his own lines was unique. The hastily constructed rustic, wooden hide he was perched in didn’t protect him from the ravages of the Tranquility weather, but it did keep him hidden.
Just when he thought their intelligence about the target had been wrong, she came into view. His section sniper, Marine Alessandro “Alex” Griffin, didn’t have to be told. As soon as the target was in range, the moment she walked into their field of fire, he began adjusting their thoroughly pre-programmed waypoints. This sped up the target acquisition process, but most of the work on modern weapons was done by AI. With all these tools working together, Alex was ready to fire within seconds of acquiring his target.
Once the female officer stopped to inspect the Marines who were manning the lines, Alex made final adjustments to his sniper rifle, the SA-76, before ge
ntly caressing the trigger. The recoil of the weapon was minimized by his armor, but Alex modified it to allow him to feel the physical manifestation of his kills. Unlike some marksmen who killed because they were good at it and to even the odds for their allies, Alex liked to watch his target breathe their last. Later that evening, he planned to use his laser engraving tool to add another notch to the stock of his weapon, commemorating his lethality.
Watching from the sideline and seeing what Alex saw through his enhanced section leader combat suit, Baird saw the details of ballistics and trajectory. A flash of reflected light from an automated turret blinded him for a moment, long enough to miss the actual kill. The primary target and the one beyond her both fell. The Marine on top of the target flopped around. Even from this distance, Baird could see blood dumping onto the ground.
“Frakk Alex, I think you got two with one shot,” Baird said as he shifted into a firing position. “The primary is still moving, but with all the blood it’s hard to tell where you hit her. The trajectory was perfect though.”
“Two notches for the rifle tonight,” Alex replied.
Moments after Alex finished the sentence, Baird began randomly spraying the Detroit lines. He intentionally missed, only intending to create havoc with his rounds, rather than kill. Unsurprisingly, as soon as he started firing the lines in front of them began returning fire. The confused front lines unloaded on the Tranquility countryside with lethal sabots aimed at phantom targets their imagination told them was there.
Feeling confident they had completed their mission, Baird ordered his unit to stage the Hardits before withdrawing. While his Marines arranged the alien corpses, they kept the front lines busy guessing by firing into them. He knew the gig was up, and with that pesky female officer out of the way, his handler would reward him well.
