by Dark Knight
The strategic importance of Carrola was negligible, far away from even the closest of taz’aran bases that she knew of, it could certainly be used as a staging point for raids deeper into Terran space. Yet, the price of building and maintaining a base within the Minarchy’s territory would be rather steep, let alone defending it day after day from the constant raids that the local freedom loving colonists would surely launch on their own. And what would the taz’aran Frontier Navy do when the Minarchy’s elite Army and Navy eventually came? They could barely hold their own against armed free citizenry that was in most of the cases only due to numerical superiority. There was something here or close by, perhaps in another system, that the leeches coveted – of that she was certain. But pondering over the unknown wasn’t something that the gorilla had a habit of, and Cat immediately set her plan in motion.
“All right, you have your orders Terrans, execute them to the best of your ability!”
Her crewmates sprang into action with Lilly hopping towards the nearest tree line. The large Mumpa trees that she warned them about were standing tall, branches moving with the wind as the bunny scout approached them, followed by Brynjar, rifle in hand. Overhead, shaking the ground with the force of many sonic booms, their enemy’s large transport ship descended, plasma engines scorching the forest itself. They landed close to that ravine Lilly had marked on her map. The same one that doubled as a grave for that small Terran transport ship. Cat moved her hand and swiping the new info over her comm link to the others – the taz’arans aimed first to secure the salvage. Was their starship that badly damaged?
“Vasilisa, how great do you think our chances are facing that thing with ’Princess Frog’?” – Cat pointed at the taz’aran vessel with her free hand.
“We can perhaps deal a little bit of damage and slow it down, maybe even cripple it for a day or two.” – The Spacer initiated a new set of navigational calculations on her PDA, while checking the enemy’s ion trail with her scanner.
“They sure are heavily loaded, and burned quite a lot of fuel in their descent. The pilots were good though, veterans. Their boss probably gave them explicit orders to land in such a manner as time is of the essence for them, apparently.” – Vasilisa displayed the landing trajectory she calculated pointing the following:
“I don’t really know how bad they are hurt, but to order a descent with such a trajectory and fly on full engine burn beforehand, this makes me think that they are really, really short on time up there!” – And the woman chuckled, almost happily, beneath her faceplate.
“Alric really gave them a licking, as my old master used to say. Your flying was excellent too! It is not every day that you can witness dzenta’rii stratagems, the accuracy of the first star marines and a spacer outmaneuvering a starship thrice our size.”
“He is an old professional soldier my husband, and I am battling with his rigidness every day. He can’t relax, not for a minute. Sometimes I wake up late at night to find him with a pistol in his hand, sleeping with both eyes open...” – Vasilisa sighed heavily again, and gave the surrounding terrain another scan.
“His entire adult life was spent walking knees deep in blood and guts, dealing with death. So much death, that I actually had doubts after our first month together. Doubts that I could ever manage to mend his mind and soul, and yet I still have hope. No Terran woman would surrender truly to despair and leave her husband suffering in such a way.”
“PTSD?” – Cat uttered the dreaded diagnose that almost all Terran men and women that chose to sacrifice themselves on the battlefield were suffering from.
“What else? He started fighting during Mahimm’s invasion when he was twelve. Alric told me everything from the very start, and I can tell you – the holo-vids and stories are all true, to the last horrid, gory little detail.”
Dozan sighed and with an angered voice added:
“That ’Lord’ and his minions committed the deeds that their kind always do. They maimed, killed and enslaved. The filth did that under the threat of kil’ra retaliation even! They had the temerity to invade and commit such atrocities,” – his fists shook and the kil’ra snarled, as if Mahimm himself or one of his captains stood before him – “and for that their ilk will pay many times over!”
“Someday we will have to sit with a couple of beers and chat, exchange some battle stories the three of us.” – Cat suddenly overheard the unmistakable roar of taz’aran grav-engines and sprang into action.
“Dozan, take position on the south end of this gorge, we will take the west! We will strike after you do.”
Cat tapped the middle of her chest with thumb forming a quick circle – a distinctive hand sign used by all colonial militia soldiers for signifying attacking vehicles first, holstered her Krupp laser and while simultaneously grabbing an AT missile and loading it in the RPG, bolted after Vasilisa. The taz’arans would be deploying their tanks, or armored personnel carriers to the front – star troopers fanned out, and moving slowly ahead. The machines couldn’t hover through the thick Carrolan forests with impunity; they had to follow the terrain features to reach the only cleared spaces here – the decaying farming fields and village ruins. This was where the grav-vehicles could maneuverer easily, guard their flanks and shower anyone with pinpoint fire from their main guns. Then only other vehicles and air strikes could be used to deal with a force properly deployed like that, and Cat would try to lessen their numbers before the taz’arans could reach operational space.
Both she and Vasilisa crouched down, taking cover behind a rock overgrown with thick vegetation. The tall, cactus resembling shrubs would probably lower the chance that they could be seen, yet vehicle scanners were precise and capable to pinpoint living creatures to mere millimeters. Provided the scanning officers of those crews were skilled. This is why Dozan’s actions and abilities, nay, his very presence was to play a crucial role in their tactics.
The small trees were crushed under the speedy hulls of one entire section of taz’aran AFV’s and Cat cursed under her breath. The machines moved slowly, and in perfect formation away from their landing zone, powerful engines humming in the distance. The difference between taz’aran APC’s and their AFV’s was the number of troops they were capable of ferrying into battle. AFV’s could support twelve star troopers, the APC’s ten, and on top of the fact that they could fire from inside of that AFV, the troopers had one pulse particle-beam cannon turret to rely on. Thankfully the vehicle had no shields, but those extra two troopers per section meant that taz’arans had deployed one full, mobile company. The six vehicles moved slowly forward. Each was protecting the other’s flanks and those troopers, instead of bulky spacesuits wore comfy light armor, painted in jungle cammo-colors and probably sporting other useful upgrades. Not only weren’t the taz’aran star troopers encased in their lumbering suits, somebody had given them back their particle-beam guns.
Double shit!
Cat and Vasilisa exchanged one worried look, yet both had faced worse on their own. Now, together, and with the support of a dreaded morale officer, who was on top of that a kil’ra, if all the cards on hand were played properly there was a chance they would succeed. It would be a long and hard battle, yet the thought of retreat never did pass through those Terrans’ minds. As always, the industrious and ever brave humans stood fast. Together with their clients, with whom they shared a blood bond stronger than megasteel, Terrans never surrendered, and always fought their enemy until the bitter end. Where others would’ve buckled and retreated before the odds that they were facing, for a Terran that was but a greater challenge. Something to try and overcome. If not, sweet death awaited. To be greeted either with fatalism or the grim determination of an entire conglomerate of peoples who knew deep in their hearts that whatever the way they died, the souls that their bodies carried would join their honored elders. Every enemy vanquished meant less terrors and pain for others to face.
Others, much weaker and tamer than the “uppity” Terrans.
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Lilly was running. Once again on her home planet, she breathed the unfiltered air of the forest, faceplate open. The smell of Mumpa trees permeated everything, as she ran, this time without a limp, toward the location of the DMS. Her new equipment weight was supported by the exoskeleton installed in her suit, and Lilly’s step was light. Either that, or she “git too good” during her last ordeal. The dead man’s scanner was hidden well. Her now deceased neighbors made sure of this, long before she was born, and yet Lilly felt a great gaping hole growing inside her chest. Lately she had terrible nightmares – Alberto’s mummified corpse walking towards her, begging Lilly to return his chopped arm, voice echoing, coming from everywhere. She made sure to keep her composure for her friends and yet... she was losing it slowly, but surely.
Her mind was slipping into the depths of depression.
Bunnies were not made to be super soldiers, and she was thankful to her Patrons for that. Some Elder races purposely modified the DNA of their Clients, remaking them into monstrous killing machines. Walking abominations, whose hateful husks’ entire existence was to impose the murderous will of their Patrons upon others, dominating and subjugating them. Her, and her race’s fate was spared such doom, as their core behavior was left untouched. In their wisdom, her Patrons desired that all of their Clients could develop themselves into something greater, gradually, and on their own. The Emperor once told a joke that all Terran kids learned from their parents – “There is another who rules this space, far stronger than I, more respected, and his name is not Emperor Falko, but Merit.”
Despite the situation that they all were in because of her Patrons’ decision to openly free all of their Clients, Lilly was now ready to fight tooth and paw. Amongst the older generation of bunnykind there was the prevalent notion that it was the duty of their Patrons, predominantly, to protect everybody. Though more and more of the millennials, as her generation was called, chose to abandon the traditionally peaceful bunny careers and join their local Colonial Militia or Navy units.
That, or walk the path of high adventure. In her case, she was forced to pick up the gun by yet another invasion. Lilly knew in her heart of hearts, that the new path she’d chosen would probably lead to her death. Eventually she’d face someone, or something, that will be the end of her and she’d already accepted that. Lilly had no family and no relatives left among the living. The only one whom she had a meaningful connection with was Brynjar, and even he was a pariah among his own people. Of course, as a dutiful client Lilly would do anything in her power to not die, for as long as possible. Who knows, perhaps the Universe had other plans for her – maybe one day she’d meet another bunny and...
She heard one loud explosion, followed up by the shrill sound of railgun fire. Dozan’s gun. The bunny’s paws grip on her own carbine tightened and she picked up the pace – that bunker was very close. She could see the closest home of Murphy’s Landing in the distance, exactly six miles away; the garage of their local delivery company, the ’Slowpokes’.
Lilly suddenly froze and fully covered herself with her chameleo-cloak, carbine ready. The colonists who were on DMS duty always left behind little ’traps’ in addition to the big ones. Those were tale-tale spots that only they knew where and how to disarm, and generally placed around the bunker so that those who tried sneaking their way in would leave a trail. And oh, there were trails, a couple of them even, all around the DMS bunker. Certain twigs were stepped on, shrubs stomped over and low branches snapped – Lilly was now certain that the device location was compromised, yet when that happened was something to be determined after a throughout scan and search. First, she had to be perfectly sure that someone of her current profession wasn’t still lurking about.
Slowly, her left leg reached for the nearest shrub.
It was a hidden rope, covered with vegetation, that when pulled activated a noise trap. Primitive, yet effective. With her acute hearing, the bunny would, in theory, hear someone reacting to the sound. She would shoot them dead if possible, or slowly pull back if the enemy had numerical superiority. Her leg tripped the rope and a loud pop echoed nearby. With her ears augmented by the suit’s own acoustic unit, Lilly heard the unmistakable sound of a soldier’s equipment and somebody’s hand touching their weapon’s fire selector.
It was coming from but a few feet beside her!
If not for the scout goggles she had purchased, Lilly would’ve never seen the soldier’s shadow moving at a paw’s reach from her position. Directly in the crosshairs of her weapon, the taz’aran scout trooper was moving with the grace and skill of seasoned professional. Not only that, but the bastard was wearing a full blown TOC! How was it that she had stayed undetected while wearing a simple chameleo-cloak, was beyond her. Unwilling to miss her chance, she instantly pressed the trigger. Set on overcharge, the newly upgraded, silenced rail-carbine spewed a pellet that turned her target’s head into a bloody mist. While the corpse was falling down she leaped away from her position and toward the bunker. Immediately her hearing detected one unmistakable sound – buzzing needles hitting the tree beside her. It exploded, shredded to splinters by the evaporating needle projectiles moving with subsonic speed. None of them had found their mark though, since she had already taken cover behind another one of the carefully placed rocks. Everything around that DMS bunker was engineered in such a way, that the device could be protected by only a dozen colonist militiamen.
Lilly spent her childhood here, playing soldiers with her little brother. That brother whose future was taken away by the taz’arans! Concentrating her senses on locating the soldier who fired at her first, she, of course, noted the fact that her adversaries were using a weapon that was traditionally deployed by Terran commandos and other specialist troops.
Investigating that fact had to wait for a later moment in time.
Her scout goggles thermal vision was all but useless against a TOC. Yet, no matter how “invisible” her enemy was, they still had to breathe, move a tad bit, their equipment rattle when bumping into the vegetation around. Again, her race’s keen hearing saved Lilly’s tail, as she rolled away from a melee strike so strong and swift, that the rock she was taking cover behind was shattered to rubble. Something hit her in the chest plate, and Lilly flew back gasping for air. She would’ve crushed her back on the tree behind if that tree wasn’t her brother’s favorite hiding spot. In a split second, Lilly used her feet, augmented by the exoskeleton to kick off its trunk, and shoot at the sounds of movement before her.
Once. Lilly pushed herself off the ground with one hand, rolling in the air.
Twice. A needle hit her leg, shaving some of her armor plating and Lilly felt a painful sting. She grabbed the biggest branch with her paw and launched herself even higher in the air.
Thrice. Her enemy, hit square in the shoulder, lost the integrity of his TOC field. Leaping in the air himself, his combat glove now arching with electricity was aimed at her faceplate.
Time slowed down to a turtle’s crawl. Lilly pulled her trusty dagger, extending arm forward. Falling down, her enemy changed the direction of his attack midair. She turned the blade sideways, pointed the barrel of her carbine down and pressed the trigger.
Blam!
Rail weapons produced recoil when fired, and a significant one when set on overcharge. That was more than enough to change the trajectory of her fall. Just a tad bit. The blade of her vibro dagger sliced through that combat glove screeching. It then continued downward, cutting flesh, bone – everything. Lilly received a kick to the head that almost bent her faceplate inside.
Both she and her enemy landed on their feet.
Both aimed their guns and fired simultaneously.
It was Lilly’s shot that hit its mark though. The enemy commando fell, with a hole the size of her foot blasted straight through his belly.
Lilly quickly rolled to the side and covered herself with the cloak, trying desperately to scan aro
und using her goggles. Nothing. There was no movement, no deadly cloud of exploding needles flying at her head.
Suddenly her breathing quickened. Sight hazed. Lilly felt metallic taste in her mouth and both legs became limp. Poison! That last needle had to have been tipped in some sort of paralyzing nerve agent. Paws no longer able to hold anything, her carbine fell to the ground and with mind fading away she heard somebody’s approaching footsteps in the distance. Jaws stiffening, tongue almost completely numb, the bunny barely managed to mutter in her faceplate, fighting with every letter, every syllable:
“Aa...acti...va...t...e, mm...m..e...”
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“Slag 5, I have disabled their scout. I repeat, their scout is down. We lost Slag 2 and 4, Excellency.” – whispered the cloaked taz’aran soldier, cautiously emerging from behind the tree he was shooting from. The commando was armed with a sniper rifle, and slowly moved towards his paralyzed target. He still had his weapon trained at the Terran, though. After seeing what she did to two of his squad-mates, the shaken specialist wasn’t taking any chances. Had he been closer, and not positioned on the nearby hill with his sniper...
“Acknowledged Slag 3, identify and then terminate. Pick up any usable equipment, data crystals, and then retreat to point Zamma. Slag 1, over and out!” – ordered his commander; as always, mission objectives were first on his mind.
He closed the distance still aiming at the Terran. Was that armed client alone? Probably not. He could hear sporadic railgun and heavy particle guns firing, the thump of PA feet running and small explosions. It was conveniently far away though, and currently not part of his mission. Whomever the ’heavies’ were fighting with was their problem, not his.
This time luck was on his side and he felt safer, since the Terran had fallen to her knees, gasping for air. The pain his bio-tipped needle rounds caused must be excruciating.
