by Will Crudge
“That’s pretty damned impressive. I apologize for my earlier behavior, Skull.” The Rear Admiral changed his tone from furious, to just marginally ass-monkey-ish.
“Good to hear, sir. I would apologize myself, but I just don’t give a shit about making anyone happy. I have humans to kill, after all. And although most of your kind are worthless, I believe the Unum Defense Forces, UAHC Fleet, and the War Master Guild are the least worthless of all. Therefore, I want to avoid making you meat-sacks dead… for now,” Skull retorted.
The Admiral just laughed and nodded. If only he was smart enough to know I was deadly serious. He thought to himself.
“We’re in position for EVAC. Sending drop ships, and drone fighters to cover their asses. Looks like the Foehammer is taking flank, as well. Prepositioned mines, missiles, and SK launchers are all set,” Skull reported.
“Excellent! Now if we can find a way to put this ship into a defilade to pounce on our prey as they come through, then that’d be great. Alas, they’re likely to come from at least three angles, and we can’t cover them all without being exposed,” John reasoned.
“Yes, we can.” Skull sent a new icon to the command console. “This is the STC coms status.”
“There’s no reading.” John scratched his head.
“That’s because when they went radio silent, I sent out some probes to triangulate ion streams on their arrays. They won’t know they’re coms are off-line until it’s too late. That way they can’t warn the Crimson Fleet that we’ve gone into stealth mode.”
“Stealth Mode?” The Rear Admiral’s eyes went wide.
“Yup. Engaging stealth in three… two…” Skull didn’t wait for one. He had no patience for human semantics. The image of the kilometers long warship dissolved into ripples of bent light until it was completely invisible. The energy signature followed suit when the energy shielding activated its newly installed graviton layer. If the Hailstorm had its reactors online, then the Crimson Fleet would be fighting a ghost.
“Holy sheeee-” The Admiral was cut off.
“I’d thank you not to blaspheme, sir. Unlike your AI constructs, I’m not an atheist!” Skull lamented.
“Hahahaha! You’re turning out to be useful, AND hilarious, Skull!” John said as he slapped his knee with laughter.
“That’s not a joke, John. Meat-sack-based-monkeys, like you, could never figure out how to make ten million tons of metal out-run photons without some kind of intelligent design, jackass!”
Both the Rear Admiral and the Commodore didn’t quite know how to respond, and just shared a mutual glance of perplexity. “Be that as it may, Skull… we’ll need our squadron to be fully deployed. Preferably outside of the primary taxiways, and certainly clear of the hyper gate shielding,” The Admiral said as a matter of fact.
It would seem the Admiral isn’t as much of a strategic moron as I thought. Skull populated an overlay of the station-controlled space. He began to bring up icons of all available squadron vessels, and even potential range fans to indicate effective ranges of their primary and secondary weapons systems.
“You’re right, Admiral. I’d hate to admit it, but you UAHC Fleet Soldiers are more competent than most, so-called military leaders. I’m preparing a proposed deployment map. Naturally, you can adjust it as you see fit. Transmitting course of action development shells to your command staff now.” Skull’s tone switched to business mode in an instant.
“Also, we have a big problem,” Skull added.
“What problem?” The Commodore asked.
“Contact! Multiple vessels transitioning into Tangine space… IDENT transponders pinging refugee status… bio scans reveal massive life indicators!” One of the staff officers announced.
“Which gate?” John asked.
“All of them, sir!” The officer replied.
“Human shields. That changes things,” John said, as he noticed from his periphery that all eyes were on him.
“Admiral, I have a firing solution on the STC control tower,” Skull said.
“STC? Why would we engage the tower?” John asked while revealing no small amount of confusion.
“Because there are high powered transmitter arrays on the prows of the so-called refugee ships,” Skull said.
“Now they can overpower my ionic fields and relay data bursts through the gates. Our only chance for our ruse to hold up is to take out the tower.” Skull said with a sense of urgency.
“Do we have anything to surgically strike the systems on the refugee ships?” The Commodore asked.
“Not unless you want to commit a war crime,” Skull pointed out.
“He’s right,” John said. “The STC has proven to be a hostile entity. We are within the legal limits to engage. Skull, consider this my engagement authorization.”
“Missiles away, sir. Besides, now I’m two for two on taking out hostile STC’s for the week.” Skull sent a digital wink to the command console.
The missiles erupted from their pre-staged positions from the taxiways. Skull knew better than to use the shipboard missile batteries that would allow any visual or energy scans to track the point of origin and reveal the Hailstorm’s position. Streaks of fire lanced through the vacuum of space and converged on the tower structure. Plumes of ignited atmosphere lit up the blackness of space, and the tower was no more.
“Tower destroyed. Refugee ships are igniting retro-thrusters as well. I guess they now realize that they’re not welcome here,” Skull scoffed.
“What if these ships have civilians on board? We can’t engage them unless they prove to be hostile, but we seem to be between a rock and a hard place,” John said, as if he were thinking out loud.
“I have to admit, the Crimson Alliance really thought out every possible detail, and are showing multiple layers of contingency courses of action. What they lack in quality hardware, they’ve made up for it in sheer planning,” Skull noted.
“What is this, Skull? Now I’m seeing thousands of individual energy signatures on scan,” John asked.
“That’s your get out of jail free card, Admiral. Calculating firing solutions now,” Skull replied. If he had a mouth, it would reveal an evil grin about now.
“Negative!” A new voice chimed in on the audio system that piped through the command console.
“Who is this?” The Admiral asked.
“No! It can’t be!” Skull was now taken back. “Crusher? You can talk?”
“Yes, I can talk. And no… don’t engage. There are commandos on board, but they only make up a fraction of the inhabitants. It’s impossible to tell for sure, but there may be legitimate civilians on those ships,” Crusher said to the point.
“Back to square one, then! Alright, Skull. This is what we need to do…” The Admiral’s face revealed unshaking confidence to match his words.
Primal Rage
Location: Unknown Sector, Tangine Interstellar Port
Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 Time Unknown
System: Sol System, Mid Region
The bulkhead doors were sealed, and the light fixtures flickered in protest of the battle damage. Kara was exhausted and covered in blood. She wasn’t sure how much of it may have been hers, but she suspected some of it was. Her Nano-bots had helped stabilize her various injuries, and she knew she wasn’t going to bleed out, but she ached from several pints in her body. She willfully ignored the damage assessment on her HUD, as she decided that it was irrelevant now.
She scanned the room and took stock of the situation. The room was utilitarian and likely served as some sort of all-purpose me
eting room. A few simple tables adorned the corners, and a dozen scattered chairs rounded out the Spartan decorum. The walls were polished alloy, and Kara suspected it was just simple aluminum plating. The body count raised to eight when she noticed two more slain Crimson commandos laying behind a hardened shipping crate in the corner. She figured that they’d been flanked by Sasha based on the shredded bits of flesh that dangled from their neck and shoulders.
Sasha! She realized she needed to focus on her friends. She darted her tired eyes around the room and took note of the large cat slumped beside Jimma. The two were physically exhausted and looked near death. Kara walked closer to the pair and saw the War Master laying on her back. The pronounced rise and fall of her chest denoted her body was under stress.
“Jimma! Are you alright?” Kara asked as she labored to kneel beside her friend. She realized her powered armor was in an energy saving mode while the micro-reactor struggled to recharge the superconductor batteries. The additional weight of the armor would have to be carried by her own musculature for the time being.
“She’ll be alright, dear.” Sasha lifted her head and opened her eyes. The big cat’s eyes startled Kara. They glowed blue, as if she were some sort of angelic being.
“Y-your eyes!” Kara gasped.
“Glowing. Yes, I know. No need to be concerned.” Sasha’s voice module reverted from ferocious predator to that of a loving mother. “I’m calming her by touch. Jimma’s bloodline is prone to Primal Rage, and if left unchecked, she could lose herself in the energy she can call upon. I need to keep her grounded until her adrenaline can re-sync with my own.”
Primal Rage? A War Master’s ultimate weapon of last resort. It’s not just a story, Kara thought. She fought the urge to consider the implications and let her concern for her friend come to the forefront of her focus. “Is she in pain?”
“No, dear. But she needs nutrients. Her physical state burns more energy than typical humans. And as you’ve seen by her feats of strength, she requires a lot of calories to remain combat effective,” Sasha replied.
“Here.” Kara reached into a storage compartment in the left thigh portion of her armor. “These fluids have the equivalent of seventy-two hours of calories. I have enough to inject a week’s worth of meals in a matter of seconds.” The silver pouches of fluid scattered on the floor as Kara pulled them out in earnest. Sasha just nodded and watched as Kara readied the IV injector.
“Wait for a second before you stick her.” Sasha closed her eyes. The massive cheetah appeared to be meditating, and within a few seconds Jimma’s breathing began to slow. After a few more moments, Sasha opened her eyes once more. “Alright, dear. She’s ready for it. Had I not calmed her down, her instincts would have reacted to her skin being penetrated, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop her from killing you.”
Kara’s eyes widened as Sasha casually explained how close to death she could have been. She’d watched Jimma dispatch countless numbers of highly trained and equipped warriors, and many of those kills were with her bare hands. She had no doubt that Jimma could kill her in a split-second.
She shook her head and cleared her mind. With a steady hand, Kara began to dispense the fluid pouches into the IV, and into Jimma’s arm. She got to the last pouch, changed out the needle, and injected the last ouch into her own arm.
Kara closed her eyes and felt the exhaustion wash away from within her own body. She knew the pouches also contained the raw molecular additives that her armor used to maintain her own body chemicals. Now refueled, her armor began to formulate the cocktails of stimulants and pain relievers she’d need to fight on.
Kara opened her eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. But Jimma was nowhere to be found in her own field of vision. She swung her head around and saw Jimma on her feet as if she’d not been in sustained combat for the last twenty-four hours. The War Master was unscrewing the hilt of her sword and dropped a cylindrical object from the hollow tube at the base of the sword’s hand grip. Jimma pulled another cylinder from a hidden pouch in her armor and slapped it into the sword’s handle with the same motion that was required to seat a magazine in a ballistic weapon. Kara watched in awe as Jimma screwed the base of the sword’s hilt back into place.
“What are you doing?” Kara asked with a tone of confusion in her voice.
“My battery was critically low. It still had a twelve percent charge, but once it gets below twenty-five percent, the charge dissipates at a higher rate,” Jimma replied as if Kara understood how a War Master’s sword worked.
“Why would a sword need a battery?” Kara asked.
“Oh. I guess you don’t know how this sword works.” Jimma sounded like she realized that Kara had no clue and went on to explain. “I guess you’ve been wondering why this sword can cut straight through a suit of heavy armor without even messing up the polish!”
Kara nodded but didn’t say a word. She had noticed that nothing seemed to even offer any resistance to the blade when it slashed through anything it made contact with.
Jimma smiled. “The sword is made of the same basic alloy of an LRF-90’s hull, but a more refined version. Its blade is resilient and could probably cut through most things on its own, but it doesn’t have to if it has a charge. It has its own energy field when it goes into motion, or when any charged energy comes near it. The field itself forms an invisible cutting edge that’s much sharper than any metallic substance can be made to be. It can also magnetically draw energy towards it, capture it, and can be redirected with a follow slash of the blade.”
“Well, that explains why you seem to block pulse energy shots with that thing. I figured you had some kind of magical Jedi skills!” Kara forced a chuckle.
“What’s a Jedi?” Sasha asked.
“Some ancient mythical warrior that does magical stuff with swords made of light, or something. My dad always talked about them. I don’t know the specifics.” Kara realized that not everyone was so universally obsessed with ancient mythology and films like her father was.
“OK, then…” Jimma interjected. “Looks like the Crimson have sealed this room to trap us. I guess they figured they were taking too many casualties, and just took us out of the equation. I would have done the same, I suppose.”
“We’ve got another problem it would seem,” Kara said as she finally took stock of the warning indicators on her HUD. She wiped away the sweat in her right eye, and then realized it wasn’t sweat at all. Her tear ducts were in full swing, and her bio-indicator revealed that she had multiple burst blood vessels in her right eye. She dropped it from her focus and resumed her atmospheric readings. “Looks like they’ve cut off the oxygen flowing through the air vents. They’re trying to suffocate us!”
“I should have realized they wouldn’t be satisfied in sealing the bulkhead doors. They must know I can cut my way out… given enough time, that is. But these bulkheads are thick.” Jimma scanned the corners and ceilings of the room. “This block must be load bearing, or possibly close to the edge of the station where rapid decompression is a risk.”
“Can we get out?” Kara asked.
“Yes, but not without burning up our oxygen supply. If your readings are right,” Jimma replied.
I didn’t tell her what the specific readings were. How in the hell? Kara thought. “And how did you see my readings? They’re encrypted, and you don’t even have a neural interface… let alone, one capable of hacking my armor!”
“I’m mentally linked with you,” Jimma said as a matter of fact.
“Is that even possible? I’m just a human?” Kara asked, but then regretted her choice of words. Jimma turned to look at her with a blank expression, where Kara half-expected to see a scowl.
“Apparently it is. You seem to have a hint of Val’s blood in you somehow. Maybe just a touch. It’s probably taken me a long time with high adrenaline levels to feel it,” Jimma responded.
“I feel it too, of course. Perhaps you’ve got a War Master in your lineage, but obviously several g
enerations back,” Sasha interjected. “Normally, our genetic gifts don’t dilute at all with successive generations, but occasionally they do. Perhaps that explains why you’ve only got trace amounts.”
Me? What does this even mean? Kara’s face revealed what she was thinking without her having to even speak.
“But that’s just a guess. It explains why you and Darius bonded so deeply, and so quickly. When our kind finds a match, it’s normally rapid… and long-lasting. No long courtships required. Your short time with Darius must have triggered something down deep in your genetic core,” Jimma said, and then immediately changed subjects. “But… finding love doesn’t help us find an exit, does it?”
Kara pushed back her feelings and realized Jimma was right. “Wait a minute! Will these help?” She pulled a few squared off objects from another compartment in her armor and showed them to Jimma.
“Those will do perfectly!” Jimma smiled, and then slid her sword back into its scabbard. The War Master picked up a heavy multi-function rifle from the clutches of a deceased Crimson commando and did a cursory functions check. When she was finished with her inspection, she looked back at Kara. “Once we get through, my sword won’t do us any good. They’ve had time to take positions, and they won’t give me a chance to get close to them before showering me with lead.”
***
“How are you fellas holding up?” Kindle, the Blood-Reaper NAV system asked over the audio net.
“Doing well, dear.” Jep calmly replied from aboard the Death-Nail.
“Same here. Thanks for asking. How about you?” Darius replied a moment later from aboard the Doom-Raptor.
“Doing well, thank you. I’ve just received a data burst from the Star Fury. We’ll be matching vectors within the hour,” Kindle said.
“Excellent, dear! It’s time to meditate while I still have time,” Jep replied, then signed off the channel.
