Requiem_Aurora Resonant_Book Three

by G. S. Jennsen

  I believe they are Ch’mshak.

  Yes, but what are they doing here?

  Based on what we know of the species, there can be only one logical answer: they are here to kill.

  Stanley was correct, of course. The brutish warriors must have been departing the transport for some time now, for her eyes swept across the vicinity to see skirmishes among wrecked buildings and in open spaces. No, skirmishes was not the correct word. Slaughter. No mere anarch, or three or four anarchs working together, stood a chance against a lone Ch’mshak—and there were no lone Ch’mshak, for they were moving in packs.

  The file on the species scrolled through her mind:

  · 1.5x larger in height and breadth than the average human

  · thick hides for skin

  · claws, tusks, etc., etc.

  · viciousness as a defining societal characteristic.

  She frowned, and not only at the shudder-inducing descriptives. The Machim were orderly, predictable and proper soldiers, top to bottom. Their fleet could have simply bombed the post out of existence from the sky, or even from space; they had no need for ground troops. And if they should have a need for ground troops, the Machim had plenty of their own to deploy. They could overrun the anarchs trapped on the surface with numbers and weapons without the help of these brutes. The Machim were cold, heartless and ruthless, but they weren’t bloodthirsty or overtly malicious.

  However, in removing his source of energy in audacious fashion, AEGIS had delivered more than a tactical blow to the Machim Primor—they had delivered a nasty psychological blow as well. They had plunged his homeworld into darkness.

  Perhaps he was a little peeved. Perhaps he wanted to make a revenge-laden statement in return. And perhaps he knew that while his ground troops were efficient killers, they were eugenically incapable of brutalizing their prey before killing them. The Ch’mshak, on the other hand? They would delight in doing so.

  She activated her arcalaser and burned a swath through as much of the advancing front line of Ch’mshak as she dared without endangering anarchs trapped in the complex, then pinwheeled up and away to evade seeking fire from two of the Machim fighters.

  Commander Lekkas (MA-Primary)(Command Channel): “Brigadier Jenner, pay attention. Commandant, we have a critical situation on the surface. Hordes of Ch’mshak are being sent in to slaughter everyone who survived the initial assault—which wasn’t much of an assault, so I anticipate there being a lot of survivors to slaughter.”

  Commandant Solovy (Stalwart II)(Command Channel): “There’s no tactical need for such a move. Obliterating the base from the air is faster, safer and simpler. Why are they bothering with Ch’mshak ground troops?”

  Commander Lekkas (MA-Primary)(Command Channel): “My guess? Revenge. The anarchs, and us, have humiliated the Directorate. We epically humiliated the Machim Primor at Machimis. They don’t merely want to stop the anarchs now—they want to make them pay. I expect next they’ll want to make us pay.”

  Brigadier Jenner (AFS Saratoga)(Command Channel): “Commandant, permission to take Marine—”

  Commandant Solovy (Stalwart II)(Command Channel): “Granted. I’m sending three flights of SF fighters down for air support as well. Commander Lekkas, update the flight primaries with the intel you’ve acquired and take command. Clear the skies, then take out as many of the Ch’mshak as you can without risking civilians or our people. We’ll do our part up here to prevent any further vessels from reaching the surface.”

  Commander Lekkas (MA-Primary)(Command Channel): “Acknowledged.”

  Belatedly, Morgan realized what the events she’d just set in motion meant. She sent a pulse to Harper.

  Listen, watch yourself groundside. The Ch’mshak may qualify as the nastiest fuckers I’ve ever seen.

  Sounds like fun. I’ll bring extra grenades.

  I’m serious, Brook. These monsters aren’t your typical adversaries.

  You worry too much. This is what I do, and I’m damn good at it. Got to go—monsters to kill.

  Morgan squeezed her eyes shut for half a second in an attempt to ward off the unreasonable fear that crept in to squeeze her heart in a vise. Their enemies were either immortal or half-ton killing machines, but Harper was neither, dammit.

  She made a mental note to ask Harper to get an updated neural imprint as soon as the current crisis passed. With the all-but-literal resurrection of David Solovy, Alex had demonstrated that death no longer need be the end. Eternal life wasn’t in their reach quite yet, but no harm in covering the bases.

  Then she forced her mind back to the conflict at hand and started scanning the surface for some Ch’mshak to shoot.

  11

  CHIONIS STELLAR SYSTEM

  AFS SARATOGA

  * * *

  THE BRIEFING ROOM WAS PACKED FULL with every Marine and ground troop Malcolm had in Amaranthe, minus two who were laid up in Medical and four who had gotten stuck on Palaemon when all hell broke loose.

  How many of the people in the room was he going to lose today?

  Malcolm gritted his teeth and shoved the dispirited thought away. Objectively, he recognized its origin. He felt guilty—his mind insisted this was his fault despite any reasoned arguments to the contrary—and his guilt was expressing itself in the form of a bleak voice muttering doom in his ear. But that voice had no place in command or on the battlefield.

  He didn’t bother with a polite throat-clearing. “Attention! We have no time, so listen up. The situation is this: an unknown but large number of Ch’mshak shock troops are on the ground at Post Alpha. Their sole purpose appears to be to finish off the anarchs who survived the initial aerial attack. Brutally so.”

  He displayed a scale image of a Ch’mshak in battle armor beside him, evoking several gasps and many curses. “I cannot overstate the danger these troops represent, so I will not try. Now, the good news: three flights of SF fighters are heading in-atmo as we speak. Their mission is to clear out any Machim vessels in the air then carpet bomb the rear lines of the enemy, taking as many out en masse as they can without endangering innocents on the ground. The bad news: the Ch’mshak have been there for a while, so they’ve spread throughout the post complex.

  “This is where we come in. The only way to eliminate the Ch’mshak inside the complex and rescue survivors is to take the Ch’mshak out in close combat. We’ll move in teams of no fewer than six. Whenever possible, concentrate on taking the enemy out one at a time before moving on to the next, because if we spread ourselves too thin they will tear us to shreds. In addition to your standard gear, everyone is carrying an augmented TSG. Daemons aren’t likely to do anything but piss these guys off.

  “All right, everyone suit up in full combat tactical gear and be on the transports in ten.” He paused. “And bring grenades. Bring all the grenades.”

  CHIONIS

  ANARCH POST ALPHA

  They executed a combat jump into the center of the bombed-out post. A quick tactical analysis using the schematics of the post and the visuals Morgan had taken concluded that they would save the most anarchs by establishing a central bulwark, taking down the Ch’mshak that had reached the heart of the post complex and working their way out. Beginning at the rear of the complex stood to save even more lives in a perfect world, but the rear of the complex was slammed up against the sheer cliff of a mountain and left no room to maneuver or retreat. Not a perfect world.

  Meanwhile, an aerial bombardment would destroy the enemy’s transport and work its way up through the ranks of the enemy until it met friendlies.

  Snow fell in heavy, wet flakes to blanket the scattered wreckage and bodies. It lent a surreal quality to the scene, in stark contrast to the savage reality.

  Harper landed with a soft roll across the snow-coated floor of a building lacking a roof. She ended the roll face-to-face with the corpse of a Barisan. The vertical, cat-like irises stared at her unseeing, and its throat had been shredded. Its stomach, too.

  Captain Harper (mission)
: “They’re already this far in. We need to move into the building north of the drop point.”

  Brigadier Jenner (mission): “Copy that. Delta, fortify this position. Don’t let enemy troops cross this line from the south. We’ll gather survivors here as we clear the complex. Echo, begin sweeping the area to the south. Take it slow and keep an eye on the skies. Everyone else, form up at my location and prepare to move. We’re sweeping the grid to the north. Alpha left, Bravo center, Charlie right.”

  Forming up and preparing took seconds, after which seconds were wasting.

  Captain Harper (Bravo): “Pello on point, Odaka on rearguard. Let’s go.”

  The partial edifice of what had once been an expansive, multi-level structure stretched nearly across the length of the vale between two towering peaks. They stepped through a jagged hole in the wall into a large, open room, possibly a training or entertainment area.

  Bodies lay scattered and strewn, silent beneath the snow that was making good progress in burying them.

  “Pello, life signs?”

  “Negative. It’s a dead zone.”

  “Proceed ahead.”

  The far end of the room led to a long hallway. They cleared three offshoot rooms before they encountered their first Ch’mshaks. Two of the alien combatants had dragged a pair of Naraida out of a closet and were—

  —okay, so the Naraida were already dead. She unlatched two splinter grenades and tossed them in the room as the Ch’mshak looked up. Christ, they were huge. Monstrously, colossally huge. Larger than the beast at the exobiology lab. “Move!”

  The squad hauled ass back down the hallway to reach a safe distance from the door. The grenades detonated; what remained of the edifice shook as shards, flesh and blood exploded out the open doorway and tore through the walls.

  “Redale, Verela, clear it.”

  The two Marines moved to the hole that had been the doorway, and Redale’s TSG swung up to unleash a torrent of laser fire.

  When the barraged ceased, Harper scowled. A single splinter grenade could kill every person in an eight-meter radius of detonation, and the room wasn’t eight meters wide. “They weren’t dead?”

  Redale’s shoulders heaved as he lowered the TSG. “They are now.”

  “Noted. Next time, they get three grenades.”

  Around the next corner the hall opened up into a larger space. Collapsed sections of roof had split the room in two, forming a makeshift barricade across the left third of the room.

  The sound of limbs scrambling behind it indicated survivors had taken refuge—plasma shot out from a small gap in the fallen slabs to nick one of the four Ch’mshak in the process of tearing the barricade down—and they had weapons.

  She quickly motioned everyone back into the hall, hoping to buy a stride or two of surprise, and switched to comms. “Survivors behind the barricade. Watch your shots.”

  Four Ch’mshak, and a split-second to choose a tactic. “As soon as I move, start shooting while backing down the hall. Splinter grenades risk hitting the survivors, but toss two stun grenades when they reach the doorway and open up on them with everything.”

  She breathed in—and sprinted toward the right wall, opposite the barricade.

  As the weapons fire began, the attackers spun around. They were surprisingly agile for their size, as if they needed another advantage. One came after her, and the other three barreled toward the rest of the squad.

  She waited until her pursuer was committed and she’d nearly reached the wall, then ordered her defense shield to maximum EM protection and Veiled. She dropped a stun grenade on the floor and launched herself upward. Lift.

  She was halfway up the wall and eye level with the Ch’mshak when the grenade detonated. The alien stumbled once, blinked and kept coming.

  Shit. “Stun grenades are ineffective. Draw them another five meters down the hall then use splinter grenades.”

  The alien stopped a meter from the wall and swiped its massive clawed hands out into the empty air in search of her. When she hit the junction of the wall and a half-intact section of ceiling, she opened fire downward into the top of its head.

  It instinctively looked up in surprise, and the laser tore through an eyeball and out the back of its skull. Her momentum carried her into the air in an arc above its thrashing body then toward the floor—

  —a long arm swung wildly in her direction. A single claw on the outstretched hand penetrated her shield from sheer force to swipe across her thigh.

  The Ch’mshak collapsed as its body finally registered the fact that its brain was dead. She landed hard beside it, and her injured leg promptly buckled upon the jarring impact.

  She splayed a hand on the floor to catch herself and was pushing up to standing when the floor, walls and debris shuddered from the detonation of multiple grenades down the hallway. Despite the distance from the explosions, several pieces of the barricade shifted and fell. Hopefully not on any of the survivors.

  Captain Harper (Bravo): “Report.”

  Weapons fire answered her. She tested out the leg. Walking, check. Sprinting and leaping? Maybe not. She de-Veiled and hobbled toward the hallway, TSG raised, but by the time she reached it the weapons fire had finally stopped. “Report.”

  Redale shouted in her direction. “All targets down. Shanti took a shoulder hit.”

  She reached into her pack and found a basic medwrap, then jammed it inside the torn material of her tactical pants and stuck it over the gash in her thigh. Her eVi executed a combat wound routine and deadened the area; she’d be good to go in a few more seconds.

  “Verela, get Shanti’s shoulder treated. Everyone else to me.” She studied the unstable barricade. “We have people to rescue.”

  They found two Anadens, a Novoloume and a Barisan behind the barricade. All were wounded, but except for the Novoloume they were ambulatory. On seeing the heavily armed Marines, the aliens tossed aside their weapons and lost any forced bravado in favor of exhaustion and relief.

  While Odaka passed around a canteen of water, Harper peered in concern at the copper blood seeping out of a long cut in the crushed leg of the Novoloume. “Verela, can we do something….”

  Verela knelt down beside the grimacing alien and offered it a reassuring smile. “Bandages will help any wound, no matter the color of the blood.”

  “You are kind, Human.”

  “I try.” Verela buried a frown as she swathed a large medwrap around the leg.

  Sergeant Verela (Bravo): “This wound’s ugly. I’m tempted to do a field amputation, but….”

  Captain Harper (Bravo): “But we don’t have the time or security. Just staunch the bleeding as best you can.”

  Verela squeezed the Novoloume’s hand as she stood. “When we get you to some real medical help, make sure they take care of you first thing. Understand?”

  Her patient nodded weakly and sank against the wall.

  Harper straightened up as if she didn’t have an injured leg. “We need to move all of you to our forward base. From there you’ll be evacuated as soon as the skies allow it.” She peered upward; a gaping hole in the ceiling provided an unobstructed view of those skies, but fighter after fighter flew by too fast to see more than blurs of metal.

  Lekkas, what’s it looking like up there?

  Like a shooting gallery, if you’re me. The Machim took note of our presence and sent some fighters they had stashed halfway across the planet to engage us, so still shooting.

  Noted.

  You?

  It fucking sucks. Got to go.

  One of the Anadens and the Barisan hoisted the Novoloume up between them without being asked, and Harper checked over everyone. “Are we ready? Odaka and Redale, fifteen meters back and eyes on our rear. We don’t want to get flanked.”

  They arrived at Forward Base 1 to find Delta had erected its own improvised barricade. In the distance down the sharply sloping hill, the transport vessel lay in smoldering ruins. The valley seemed to swim with the hulking creatures, th
ough. Half a dozen of them lay dead in range of the camp, indicating Delta had seen activity and handled it. Another hundred meters away, somewhere in the middle, weapons fire marked Echo’s location.

  Three additional survivors huddled beneath a second protective barrier inside the outer barricade, and when their own charges arrived they hurriedly joined them. She sent a brief comm to Major Eaton, the Delta leader, informing him of the state of the new arrivals, then motioned her squad—minus Shanti, whose shoulder was damn near mangled—back into the wrecked complex.

  They retraced their steps cautiously but swiftly. Past the scene of their previous skirmish stood a series of half-standing halls and smallish rooms. The nature of the debris suggested it had been a lodging wing, but almost nothing remained—

  She pulled up and lifted a hand to call a halt. The battle ongoing overhead made it difficult to hear, and the snow, which had begun worsening toward blizzard conditions in the last few minutes, muffled what little she could hear.

  But she had heard a moan.

  Her gaze fell on a pile of debris a few meters to the left. “Cover me.” She hurried over to the debris and tried to peer beneath it. “Hello? Is someone under there?”

  A high-pitched cry answered.

  “Hang on, we’re going to get you out. Redale, Benoit, we need to clear this.” The Marines materialized at her side, and together they began hefting the largest pieces of debris off to the side.

  They found a small, willowy alien curled up in a ball beneath it. It wasn’t one of the common species—Accepted Species. A refugee from the exobiology lab, perhaps?

  Harper dropped to her knees, ignoring the stab of pain in her thigh, and tried to appear as nonthreatening as possible while wearing combat gear and carrying a giant gun. “You’re going to be all right. Can you stand?”

  The diminutive alien began spouting a string of nonsensical babble, eyes wide in terror—then let out a blood-curdling scream.