“Hang him,” the sailor hissed. He spat onto the cold metal deck, leaving a bloody smear. “Hang them all.”
“Quiet,” Captain Reukauf growled at the provocateur. The enlisted man wisely shut up. The ship’s captain glanced over at the Wraith commander. “Your man, your call. But I will suggest you at least flog him raw for striking a superior. If I see another one of your Wraiths out of their berthing areas, except for food and deployment, it’ll be your skin. Do you understand me, Wraith?”
“Yes sir!” Malensek snapped to attention as the Eye’s captain turned on his heel and walked out. The Navy personnel followed their captain closely, a few looking over their shoulders at the Wraiths. Their eyes were murderous and filled with rage. Malensek sighed and looked back at Gabriel.
“Sir, I–” Gabriel began but the company commander cut him off.
“Silence,” Malensek ordered. He looked at Esau and Markus, both of whom were staring into space while braced at attention. He looked back at Gabriel. “Who threw the first punch, Wraith?”
“I did, sir,” Gabriel admitted without hesitation. Malensek nodded thoughtfully before he turned towards the assembled crowd of Wraiths. A few men looked away but not, he noticed, the newly-arrived squad. He looked back at the man he assumed was their squad leader.
“Name?” Malensek demanded.
“Espinoza, sir,” Gabriel answered immediately. “Gabriel Espinoza.”
“Simmons, Peterson, hold his arms,” the commander instructed two of the larger Wraiths in the gathered crowd. Obediently they moved closer, grabbing Gabriel’s arms and pulling them out and away from his body. Malensek looked back at Gabriel. “Strip his shirt off.”
“Yes sir,” they acknowledged and ripped the shirt off of Gabriel, exposing his muscular back. Malensek eyed the man before him for a moment, a look of recognition in his eyes.
“Damn. Sutillian?” he asked. Gabriel nodded once. Malensek shook his head and looked back towards the crowd. “I need a Sutillian here.”
“I’m from Belleza Sutil, Commander,” a deep voice called out from the crowd, which parted as a squat, muscular man strode forward. He nodded to his commander. “I’ll flog him for you, sir.”
“Good,” Malensek turned back towards Gabriel. “As squad leader, you should know better than this. Gabriel Espinoza, for the crime of striking a superior and daring to harm a Perfect, you are hereby ordered to receive twenty lashes, punishment to commence immediately. Juarez, commence with the lashings at your leisure.”
“I’m not the squad leader, sir,” Gabriel said. He jerked his head towards Esau. “He is.”
“Hmm...” Malensek looked at Esau, then back to Gabriel as Juarez approached.
“Mierda,” the muscular man from Belleza Sutil grunted as he approached. He looked at Gabriel with a mournful expression on his face. “Didn’t recognize you. Man, I’m sorry. Your dad was always good to us.”
“Just get it over with,” Gabriel hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the familial reference. His father had hired many Imperfects over the years for the annual harvests, something not many others did. It wouldn’t be the first time Gabriel had run into someone who had worked for his father at one point. Juarez shrugged his massive shoulders and accepted the whip from the hand of the master-at-arms.
“Have you anything to say before your punishment commences, Wraith?” Malensek asked him as Juarez moved around to the side, where he had a better angle. Gabriel thought about the odd question for a moment before he mentally shrugged.
“I should have punched the little bastard harder,” Gabriel’s grumble carried across the passageway, causing quite a few of the gathered Wraiths to laugh at his audacity. Even Commander Malensek smiled, albeit briefly.
“Once your punishment is finished, see me about a command change in your squad, Espinoza,” Malensek stated as he nodded for Juarez to begin.
The leather whip slipped through the air with a nasty hiss before it cracked across the exposed skin of Gabriel’s back. Gabriel winced and closed his eyes, his teeth clenched as a warm sensation flooded his back. That wasn’t so bad, he thought sullenly.
Suddenly the rest of the pain hit and he cried out as the second lash struck his exposed shoulders.
#
Despite his appearance otherwise, Malensek was not a cruel and heartless man. However, even the lowest of Navy personnel outranked him aboard the Eye. He knew, as well as everyone else aboard, striking a Perfect was a crime punishable, on some worlds of the Dominion, by death. He exhaled and shifted in his small chair as he eyed the information on the datapad in his hand. He continued to read the notes on Gabriel, written by his training sergeant not two weeks before.
“‘Exhibits a tendency to react violently when threatened’,” Malensek read aloud as he leaned back in his chair. He stroked his smooth chin thoughtfully. “Well, no kidding, Griffon. Your boy just about shattered the face of some asshole Perfect. I think the new look will suit him, though. Hmm, let me see...” his voice trailed off as he read on, the medical examination of the promising young Wraith on his screen. His jaw dropped as he saw one glaring omission from the exam.
“Well, how in the hell did that slip through?” Malensek muttered as he reread the entry. He smiled grimly as an idea formed. He quickly added the “correct” information to the file and closed it. He felt the overwhelming urge to laugh out loud as he thought of the absolute fit that certain unfriendly senators in Parliament would throw if they found out that a Wraith had yet to be chemically castrated.
“Double the testosterone, double the destructive potential,” Malensek muttered as he tossed the datapad onto the desk, task finished. He closed his eyes and took a brief nap, the entire incident regarding the Perfect and one of his Wraiths moving to the back of his mind as he began to simulate the upcoming drop.
Chapter Ten
The dusty red planet of Ibliss lacked water, containing merely 30% of that of a similarly-sized Earth. This was caused by the dramatic shift in the polar caps, which contrasted sharply with the magnetic poles. The planet’s natural obliquity sat at such a sharp angle it reminded the first inhabitants of Uranus. It planet was also rich in oxygen and iron, which created the rust-colored soil.
It was also habitable, however, for both species. While the Abassi were intent on keeping the planet for themselves, the humans wanted it back.
The simulated drops, Gabriel decided as he sweated inside the suit, his secretions being absorbed by the jelly-like fluid and recycled for future use, have nothing on the real thing.
He pressed back into his headrest, eyes locked on his forward HUD – heads up display. He could see the other Wraiths lined up against the wall across from him, each and every suit held in place by the ship’s magnetic locks. The drop bay was packed, thirty-three Wraith suits total. More drop bays were scattered throughout the ship, each one holding the same number of Wraiths. Gabriel grimaced at the thought of a lucky shot hitting a drop bay and the carnage it would potentially cause.
He glanced away from his external HUD and looked at his IFF, which identified friend from foe for the Wraiths. It appeared satisfactory, though he knew the Abassi had, in the past, kibitzed the Army by messing with their IFF. He double-checked the rest of his squad to ensure they were aware of that threat. He was pleased to see they were, even Joshua.
His squad. The idea of men under his command still chilled the young man to his core. He had no idea what game was being played, or even who was playing it, but he was fairly certain a recruit fresh out of boot and off of a public flogging for striking a Perfect had never been given command of a squad before. The five Wraiths under his command depended on him. It was a terrifying prospect.
He flinched in remembrance of the whip striking across his back. Each cut was a painful memory, but they remained merely that as the neural blocks worked their wonderful magic to prevent him from actually caring about the pain. They were better than any drug in existence, and were much more thorough. The twenty bloo
dy cuts on his back were nothing, though, in comparison to the nervousness he felt about the impending drop. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. There would be no backing out now.
“Wraiths,” a voice crackled noisily into Gabriel’s ear. He winced and adjusted his comm’s receiver volume. He opened his eyes and looked around the landing bay once more. He wished he could see the other’s faces. “We are closing in on the drop coordinates. Prepare yourselves for glory.”
Glory my ass, Gabriel cringed. You should have said “Prepare to die, you worthless slabs of meat.”
One of the worst things about atmospheric drops, Gabriel recalled, was keeping enemy vessels away from the ships which carried the Wraiths. Most of the Fifth Fleet was tasked for that mission, one which Gabriel hoped they would succeed in long enough to let him off the Eye. If any escort ships let the Abassi navy into the drop zone, the ensuing slaughter would be horrific.
Throughout the bay, red lights started blinking in rapid succession. Gabriel felt his stomach rise up as the Eye dropped into the planet’s upper atmosphere. He closed his eyes and whispered a brief prayer to both the Emperor and God. One of them, he thought, ought to help. A loud bang! startled him from his prayers. A lone piece of debris whipped past his field of vision, buffeted by wind which should not have been there. Confused, he looked down at the floor. He instantly regretted the decision.
The magnetic locks lining the bay were the only things holding the Wraith suits inside the ship, he realized as he caught sight of the ground far below. The flooring in the bay had been retracted during the atmospheric entry, which explained the loud bang he had heard. The Eye was many miles off the ground and below Gabriel could make out a gigantic, sprawling city in the distance. Far in the distance he could see the rising sun. Setting sun? he wondered, his sense of direction completely shot as the ship dropped lower in the atmosphere. He swallowed back his rising fear and glanced at his lance. Their faces were hidden behind the heat shields of their helmets, but Gabriel knew that every single one of them was as afraid as he was. At least, he hoped they were.
“Squad leaders, listen up,” a harsh, grating voice barked in Gabriel’s ear. His suit instantly identified it as Division Commander Kilmeny, who was aboard the DV Illiad, the Fifth Fleet’s flagship. It brought up the man’s face and Gabriel found himself looking at a very determined man. “Drop coordinates have been uploaded into your memory banks. If your squad gets separated from the rest of division, report in to your company commander immediately. Nobody better get lost though! There’s only one damned city in view, and it’s the only thing we care about.”
Gabriel checked his memory banks and spotted his drop coordinates. His squad, along with the other squad onboard the Eye which made up Third Company, were to drop along the main road to the east of Newcastle. From there, they were to secure the road in and prevent the Abassi from any large breakouts while pressing into the city. Once they arrived in the city proper and flushed out the aliens like rats, Gabriel saw as he quickly scanned his orders, they would commence orbital bombardment on the grounds around the city to eliminate any fleeing Abassi.
It was a brutally simple plan, Gabriel realized as he thought about it. The Abassi would be hammered from all directions except down, and would not be able to escape the slaughter. The Dominion would reclaim Ibliss from the Abassi, and use it as a junction and rally point for the next step of the Great Reclamation, which Gabriel guessed would be Ptolemy or New Israel. Simple, but in no way easy. He personally was hoping for Ptolemy, so he could find–
“Ten seconds to drop!” a voice crackled and Gabriel felt the magnetic locks on his shoulders rotate him. His body was shifted until he was facing straight down, his eyes on the ground far below. No, not so far, he realized belatedly. The ground was a lot closer than the last time he had checked. Gabriel keyed his comm and spoke only to his lance.
“Squad, remember the plan,” he began, in part to remind them but mostly to calm his own nerves. “Remember the plan. Try to stick together. Land and form up a perimeter. Joshua and Markus, make certain everyone is okay when we hit and secure the area. Esau, comm duties. Twist, protect Esau and watch your back as well. I have a feeling you’re going to be useful for once. Beeker, on my six. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!”
Gabriel’s calm voice turned into a terrified scream as he and his squad were ejected violently out of the launch bay. The inertial compensator within his suit was unable to match the velocity and force of the magnetic expulsion, and he felt his body press into the metallic suit encasing him, the g-force causing his vision to narrow as his circulation began to wane. He struggled to scream, breathe, anything as he rocketed towards the planet.
The wind buffeted him as he struggled to maintain a flat position, the inertial compensation system within the rigid suit howling in protest as it struggled to keep his body from becoming paste inside the nearly impervious suit. He slowly regained some semblance of control over his suit as the compensators began to match his velocity. He breathed a small sigh of relief. Gabriel knew he would live long enough to fight, provided he reached the rocky terrain below safely.
Small blue beams began to streak past him as he reached terminal velocity, exploding in the midst of the Wraiths behind him. His squad, safely ahead of the main group, began to slowly angle south as the blue beams grew more concentrated over the drop zone. Gabriel swore mentally as he realized they were going to be well off-course. He activated his comm and spoke to his squad.
“Esau,” he called, his voice far calmer than he felt as he thought of orders. “We’re off course. Adjust to starboard a few degrees.”
“They’re hammering the division!” Esau screamed into his ear, his voice terrified. “We need to stay out of the drop zone!”
“Stay the course, Wraith,” Gabriel snapped as he checked his readouts. He blinked in surprise. Damn, he’s right, Gabriel mentally swore. The entire division’s getting hosed. Fuck that noise. Thinking quickly, Gabriel banked to his left. The suit, as responsive as his own body and reflexes, angled with him as he moved away from the drop zone. He angled toward a steep series of hills nestled to the south of the city, much further away than his original drop orders had instructed. No beams were streaking up from there, thank the Emperor. “Belay that last order. Esau, general broadcast. All Wraiths in broadcast range, bank port seven degrees. Head for them there hills, boys. End general broadcast.”
He checked over his shoulder, his eyes locked on his HUD for other surviving Wraiths. His HUD limited his peripheral vision, though, so he twisted his body and flopped onto his back so his stomach was pointed up towards the ship he had just ejected from. He held his arms out to stabilize him and curled his knees to his chest. He glanced back up. What he saw sent an icy chill down his spine.
The flagship of the Fifth Fleet, pride of the Navy and the largest vessel Gabriel had ever seen in his life, the DV Illiad, was broken in two near her stern and burning in the exosphere of the planet. The mighty dreadnaught, once one of the most powerful vessels in the entire Dominion Navy, was nothing more than a collective pile of scrap metal as it twisted through the air in a rapidly degrading orbit. The massive ship was easy to see without the benefit of a digital scan. A quick HUD check showed him the majority of the fleet was simply gone, their hulks already devoid of oxygen and preventing them from burning. They simply broke apart as destruction reigned high above. He could see almost every ship in the Fifth Fleet cartwheeling through near-space, their drives lost in the vicious space battle. Abassi ships flew past, searching for survivors and ships not yet destroyed. He narrowed his search to near-earth and felt his bowels clench in fear.
They are ready for us, Gabriel realized with growing horror. Somehow the damned aliens knew we were coming and were prepared. They’re entrenched, and digging them out is going to be a hell of a lot harder than it’s supposed to be. A steady string of curses spilled forth as he tried to forge a plan.
He was una
ble to locate any other cohesive Wraith squad in the sky. A few lone Wraiths were still falling, but their descents were uncontrolled, reckless. Gabriel guessed they had been struck by one of the bright blue beams the Abassi had been throwing into the sky, their answer to a mechanized drop. Nobody said anti-aircraft fire had to be restricted to ships. He realized exactly what he was looking at as his comm crackled noisily in his ear.
“Commander, you’re off course,” a vaguely familiar voice told him. Gabriel shook his head in confusion.
“Commander?” he asked, aghast. If I’m the commander, he thought as he brought up various commands in his suit, then we’re utterly screwed. He scrolled through the new set of commands, completely alien to the recently promoted Wraith. Somewhere in this brain is the proper command segment, he mentally swore. But where the hell is it? “Where’s Division Commander Kilmeny? Company Commander Malensek?”
“There aren’t any other lances left to form a cohesive division or company, Commander,” the captain of the Eye told him. “Malensek went off air the moment we started the drop. I got nothing on...Kilmeny? Hell, there are hardly any Wraiths left except for your squad, much less your company. The rest of the division is mostly gone, with the exception of a few stragglers. Nothing cohesive. The bastards were ready for us. So, tell me your plan, Commander.”
“Drop zone is a death trap, sir,” Gabriel told the captain, thinking quickly. He scrolled past some rudimentary instructions for a squad leader and delved into the command nodule for a division commander. Accessing the kernel, a flood of information crashed into his consciousness. He struggled for a thousandth of a second to absorb most of the information before he regained control of the implant nodule which directed and updated the information banks of the Wraith Neural Command Center. Using the new information and data, he thought about the mission parameters for a moment before he made a tactical decision.
Wraithkin (The Kin Wars Saga Book 1) Page 14
