Twin suns of Carrola (Starshatter Book 2)

by Dark Knight

  Mack only hoped they had no lawmen on board.

  He looked at the two Colt model M69 Exterminator railgun pistols resting on his belt. Those spewed 3mm projectiles at lightning speeds, their power packs good for twelve shots before slagging. In a hardpoint on the right side of his bike, and connected via plasma cable with its power core, was Mack’s main gun – a highly modified and overpowered anti-tank rifle. The beastly weapon fired undo-steel slugs, an alloy much stronger than the already super tough megasteel and ignored most vehicle armor like it wasn’t there at all. He had a whole case of those in his GAV’s cargo hold. Mack kept many other weapons there too, but for now, his pistols would be enough. Alberto’s bloodied shovel was tied at the back of his chopper – Mack intended to use its blade to butcher all of them taz’aran crapbloods he’d soon meet. The chopper’s loud, whistling Tesla engine, echoed in the air while he left the ravaged ruins of Murphy’s Landing behind...

  Chapter 7

  The Circle of Life

  Kera slowly walked away from the corridor leaving all those butchered pirate marines behind. She did try stunning them, and yet they continuously persisted in their advance. She used all of the spare power packs of her stunner and then started throwing stun grenades at them. That didn’t deter them a bit. Kera could sense their vile hatred directed at her, and all who called themselves Terran. Even then she was desperately trying not to kill them. Not that it was easy mind you because these warriors were well trained, armored, and there was no hesitation in them when they attacked. Kera had to defend herself and she resisted as best she could. For the first time in her life she hit somebody with an intent to harm. These clanners probably had never met an Avern’a in battle, for if they did, they wouldn’t have aggressively over-committed like that. Short vibro-blades in hand they swarmed her, staggering and stumbling, still under the stunner’s effect and so she... kicked them. This particular group of pirates had no heavy armor and was therefore vulnerable to her weaponized dancing. Not surprisingly it was highly effective.

  Soon the surprised warriors fell to the ground, bones broken and stunned.

  Even as she herself hesitated to strike a killing blow, her friend Ort didn’t. Standing beside her at all times, the creature’s attacks were vicious. The pirates tried to dodge his bites, and made evading Ort their priority, although that completely stalled and confused their attacks. They did try passing through the both of them multiple times, yet each advance was met with a swift, graceful flurry of kicks followed up by deadly bites. The pirate space warriors were relentless though, and they did fight to the last man and woman, ultimately littering the corridor with their bodies. Kera was shaken to her very core by their unrelenting, vicious rage. Instead of fear before death, their minds were full of vengeful hatred – some even crawled with their dying strength, desperately trying to get to her and end her life. They weren’t in any way a weak adversary or one to be underestimated.

  After the shock of battle had subsided she realized that it was Ort who took the brunt of the fighting and... killing.

  Kera heard something coming from the now closed hangar bay of Starshatter, and trying to chase away the stupor from her mind raced there, with Ort slumping behind and all covered with blood. She saw the hud-display of her hamster patient’s starfighter flicker in the dark. Just for a second, and then it deactivated itself. Kera closed the distance and on further inspection discovered that the ship’s auto-railgun had been fired at full power, its barrels red hot, glowing in the darkness and all but overheated. Was it pre-programmed to attack if its sensors detected targets who didn’t answer proper IFF protocols? She was sure that one could do so, yet a simple mainframe without the assistance of a powerful OS, something like an on-board VI would be ill equipped to hit any target with the accuracy demonstrated just now.

  Suddenly the hangar depressurized. Her husband had opened the furthest doors, dragging the battered body of Alric. Kera using her mag-boots ran towards them as quickly as she could, pulling out her medical injector, while Ort with bloodied teeth dutifully dragged the closest mag-stretcher behind her.

  “What happened?” – Kera gasped worryingly after noticing the sorry state of Alric’s armored spacesuit.

  “He made himself the target, that’s what! That insanely brave fool just stood there, taking it all...” – Boris almost choked but together with the help of his wife managed to take Alric out of his armor and secure the wounded man on the stretcher.

  “Look, at his body, it is still glowing, husband. Quickly, help me push him towards the medbay.” – Everything that she knew was telling her that even with his use of Aryan force, the star marine was heavily wounded. Kera gave her man a quick scanner check noticing only extreme fatigue. He was superbly trained and conditioned yes, yet even his insane physique had limits. As they were running inside the corridor leading to their medbay, Boris actually slowed down his pace, and after they had locked Alric’s body on the surgical station he leaned tiredly on one of the walls nearby.

  Kera had injected the star marine with plenty of medi-gel and reached for the controls. She skillfully calibrated the machine, and with effortless, lightning quick motions, the surgical instruments pulled out all the pieces of metal embedded in his flesh. It was an operation that she could perform with her eyes closed, since she had all of her crewmate’s medical scan-data memorized. Using even more of her medical supplies, Kera fashioned replacement skin grafts and implanted them on those places on Alric’s body that had been exposed the longest to outer space, while waiting for his other wounds to gradually regenerate. Now, out of direct danger, the valiant man was sleeping and she turned her attention toward her own:

  “Come closer, husband,” – Kera removed Boris’s helmet and gently pulled his face closer to hers – “it seems that you are in need of a hug and a witch’s kiss.”

  That would elicit a pleasant, happy reaction from her husband. Kera knew that he allowed himself to show emotion, but only in her presence. Those long years of suffering, slaving in that uranium mine had taken a toll on his mind. It would be a long process, but Kera was sure of her ability to heal even his battered psyche. Boris smiled and hugged her tiredly, while she gently kissed his lips using all of her Avern’a charms. Being all but drained telepathically, Boris’s eyes slowly closed and his wife carefully lowered his body onto the second surgical bed.

  He was sleeping almost calmly, his body now released from the stress of the prolonged battle. Slowly she lay down on top of him, placing her head on his chest and listened to her husband’s quieted breathing. His lips moved slightly and Kera’s smile became even wider. Boris uttered her name in his sleep and so she kissed him again. She had to do much, much more afterward, because when he woke up there would be another union. They had to meld daily if she was to be with child, and that they both wished to happen as soon as possible. Kera smiled and fixed her husband’s pillow, before giving Awesome another scan check. He’d be needing some extra psychological care too, after his body was healed. A thing that most hamsters were annoyed by, and/or used for more joke material. After all, the greatest jest is one that you do with yourself and your people’s culture, since you know them best.

  While browsing the G-net Kera once stumbled upon information about some star state named Ainufon that destroyed itself long, long ago. They had draconian laws prohibiting all sorts of jokes and... really, entertainment as a whole, since something that someone might say, do, or even think could offend somebody else. They had formed a unit comprised entirely of telepaths, who policed each of their citizen’s thoughts for unlawful activity. Then they started policing themselves and it didn’t end well. In the end they bombed each other to extinction with weapons of mass destruction.

  The reason?

  She couldn’t find an officially stated one, but back then, that was one of those rare moments where even in her state, Kera was entertained. Stupidity was something that intrigued her beyond all maladies known to medical science. Ancient studies had linked
it with genetics and the probability of your descendants being less able in their cerebral pursuits, almost entirely depended on you. Both of you. Any trained medical professional knew that the more you improved yourself, the better became certain strains of your own DNA. It was as if your efforts to get better mattered in the game of evolution. Kera knew perfectly well why, as her ’friend’ had confirmed those multiple times in their connection.

  Suddenly Anit’za busted in, helmet removed and mouth wide open, ready to boisterously annunciate something, only to stop dead in his tracks after Kera vigorously waved her hands, pointing to the outside of their medbay. Gracefully she dismounted the surgical table and with careful, quiet steps, walked out, pushing her captain before her.

  “What was so important that you barged into my medbay like that, captain?” – With no chance that their voices could wake up their crewmates, Kera asked her captain and then carefully cleaned Ort’s bloodied snout. The brave dog was still out, guarding the doors to her medbay and she felt guilty about not giving him the command to rest. Nodding with her head to Ort, Kera noticed the feline standing next to one pirate corpse. Snark’s snout was bloodied too, paws and belly covered completely with thick alien bodily fluids. It just stood there, tail waving as always, eyes sadly studying her. Kera tried remembering what had happened during her fight with those pirates. Certainly some she kicked stronger than others and Ort did all the killing, but what of the cat? Her memory was getting hazier the longer she looked in Snark’s eyes and in the end Kera simply gave up. Called the feline close and when she came, picked her up gently, scanned and wiped the now congealed blood with a surgical wipe. Her captain waited patiently and then he himself hugged Snark. The cat licked Anit’za’s face and finally snuggled her tired body in the nearest service tunnel.

  “I managed to capture one of the boarding ships and twiddled with its mainframe until now. Hope dies the last, but it seems that the clever sods have scrubbed their navigation logs really well. Couldn’t find their point of origin.” – Anit’za scratched his chin again and looked above Kera’s shoulder pointing his helmet at the medbay:

  “How are they? Anything permanent?”

  “No, nothing like that, captain. Awesome will be needing some counseling after I get him out from the Regeneration chamber. Seems that he has... nightmares.”

  “Wait, what? But space hamsters are supposed to be super resilient or something! How is that even possible?” – The captain looked genuinely confused.

  “I am not completely sure of it myself, captain. You know that my medical expertise is vast, yet the Terran client races are but new, recently uplifted sentients. There might be some random factors and other genetic, how should I put it – uncertainties? For now his body is regenerating well.” – Kera looked at her captain with hesitation, but after a few short seconds of contemplating continued:

  “Back then in the hangar, before Boris and Alric returned from battle, I saw something strange, captain. The ship, Awesome’s ship, had apparently opened fire on its own and there was a strange reddish glow coming out of its cockpit.” – Anit’za’s face looked like someone had taken his favorite dessert and splattered it all over the floor-plating. He nodded a couple of times with even more confusion spreading all over his chiseled, dzenta’rii face, before leaning closer and whispering in her ear:

  “I am fully aware of it. Best to keep this between us, Doctor. You know how our spacer navigator might act, or worse yet, overreact.”

  “But, captain what if...” – her troubled reply was cut short by Anit’za’s comforting smile:

  “I am at the center of it all my lady Kera, and always in control. Remember that and rest assured – your captain knows. He has known from the very start, and perhaps even before that.” – Confident Anit’za tapped his chest and began walking toward the closest elevator.

  Now safely away and out of Kera’s sight, Anit’za swiped over his PDA and muttered:

  “And now my dear, could you please explain to me how it was possible that you slipped past all of our mainframe’s firewalls, guard dog bots and then got out without triggering any alarms? You’ve even used the ship’s EWS to rewrite the taz’aran attack bot that they hammered us with. I could imagine that it was then reused to facilitate that sneaky ’cargo crate’ attack, probably allowing you to mind-hack their Sysops. I would very much like to offer you a position in this here crew – it is yours, if you are willing... Alice.”

  Instead of an answer there was overly cute, digitally enhanced, happy laughter. Innocent and childlike, in stark contrast with the actual abilities that that AI had demonstrated.

  “We shall see, captain. We shall see. I only need to ask you one thing – How many taz’arans are you willing to physically remove from the Galaxy on your way to victory?”

  ________________________________________________________________________________

  Despite her small size ’Princess Frog’ was unable to land in the forest proper. Vasilisa touched down, gave her on-board VI instructions and jumped out after her crewmates, rifle in hand. The boom of her starship’s plasma exhaust echoed around as the vessel rose up in the air, its VI flying it ever higher and away from the soon-to-be battlefield.

  “What’s the plan, Cat?” – Vasilisa knelt next to her crewmates and leveled the Winchester rail-shotgun, inspecting the surroundings with its integrated scanner.

  “Plan? Yes, I think that Lilly should make a run for the DMS now,” – the large gorilla held her Krupp laser as a pistol in her left hand, while ordering her armor’s VI to display a holo-map of the area – “while the taz’arans are preoccupied with us using her skills and knowledge of the area to evade them, while simultaneously snagging the data crystals.” She gave Brynjar’s new rifle a quick check before continuing:

  “Brynjar will be our long range support, I will use my RPG to provide pinpoint artillery strikes and deal with any vehicles when needed. Vasilisa is my fast moving guard, only to engage at range, pick what’s left of the star trooper sections one by one.” – Cat turned towards Dozan, who was checking the ruins of Carrola’s colony village in the distance, teeth bare and eyes squinted. She heard a low pitched growl coming from him, as he used his range finder unit’s magnification, taking holo-slides of the burned down houses. The morale officer was tapping his weapons in a certain order, each time citing a different name:

  “Honored Elder Mary the Sword-giver; Master weapon smith Gunter the Gun-giver; Master armorer, Alric the Shield-giver; your gifts will be used to the best of my ability!” – Dozan sighed and checked his weapons again, reassuring himself that all were ready for the battle ahead.

  “Dozan, you are to be our distraction. A morale officer does not hide, since that would defeat his purpose on the battlefield, instead, we shall make use of your skills as best we could. Provided they bring no more than one sniper per section, you can torment them and crush their morale over the comms.” – Cat got a nod back from the kil’ra, who shouldered the shield and extended his Berreta’s folded stock – “Afterwards, Lilly could plant some of her mines and grenades on our way out to keep the tazzies occupied and happy.”

  Cat moved the holo-map a little bit, again inspecting all the additional terrain features that their self-taught scout added before planetfall. She remembered well what her master had told her multiple times in command class during her apprenticeship – “Knowledge is power, use it well!” – And that lesson she intended to follow to the letter. There were multiple little choke points that any of them could use to funnel the taz’aran advance, and if they were fielding their usual vehicles, those would have a limited fields of fire. The terrain of Carrola heavily favored the foot not the track, and certainly not the grav vehicles that they were usually deploying en masse. Especially this one, long gorge that Lilly had marked on her map, with its considerably weaker magnetic field was an excellent place for her tiny group to pull and engage taz’aran vehicles.

  Planets in Fringe space had weak magnetic field
s, and some of them were often plagued by gravitational anomalies. Even though the colonists here used some grav vehicles, they did so only in the safe zones. The only other big machines that they had were the tractors, necessary for harvesting their fields. The ideal troop complement for this planet according to what her master had instructed her were scout troops backed up by light foot, mortars and some reconnaissance/scout vehicles – armored bikes, jeeps and the like. Super heavy foot would be something of a luxury, and certainly a squad of power armors here could be devastating, if used properly that is. Then again, those taz’aran commanders assigned to the border weren’t always that creative in their tactical approach.

  With luck, she and her crewmates would be facing some inbred taz’aran noble commander, suffering delusions of grandeur with no skill or imagination to speak of, who’d spew profanities over the comms all the time instead of actually commanding his troops. She sighed. On the other hand, if they were unlucky, their opponent could be the death of them. Cat knew not to underestimate the taz’arans or anyone who stood in your way weapon in hand. You had to be really foolish to do so. Even if you’d faced weaker, and buffoonish opponents once or twice, this did not automatically mean that all of their ilk were the same.

  With that in mind, Cat asked herself the question – What was her enemy’s main objective here? Surely they came here to find what has happened to their forces, recover those who had survived (if any) and most probably try to follow up on their original intent. This planet as it was, the system even, had nothing of value that could interest the taz’aran border Counts. There were no strategic resources, and the single habitable planet was tiny in size. Only a population of hardy, industrious colonists could thrive there. Farming was, perhaps, the best industry to develop here, utilizing Carrola’s two suns rays to feed light hungry plants. Yet, the taz’aran empire had plenty of farming worlds, even here on their all but forgotten border with the Terran Minarchy.