Twin suns of Carrola (Starshatter Book 2)

by Dark Knight

  For now, despite their stubborn resistance, the Terrans were all but finished. Nedal was somewhat amazed at the efficiency of those star troopers – not one of them ran away. Was the reason for that apparent bravery the fact that they had more than adequate support, and plenty of good equipment? Or was it simply the devilish oratory skill of Omasa? He listened to the chatter of his section leaders, as the soldiers were closing in on the last Terran standing. The large gorilla, encased in heavy armor, was still swinging her long-handled battleaxe and roaring menacingly, while his melee troopers formed a spear wall and advanced in good order, stabbing and pushing. Further away, around the wreck of AFV 2 there was some confusion, since the soldiers who went to check the vehicle for salvageable equipment and survivors were now engaged in melee with someone. Nedal wasn’t sure if this didn’t in some way breach the ’Imperial Field Combat Regulations’, yet those were his Lord Captain’s orders. With his PAs closing in he could now finally see everything in minute detail.

  Nedal screamed.

  Thankfully his comms were turned off, otherwise everyone would’ve heard him moaning and whimpering. At the center of that wrecked machine, more than nine feet tall, stood the silhouette of that same Kil’ra morale officer that he had thought dead. The beast was bloodied, his armored uniform burned and torn, yet shield and sword in hand he engaged the star trooper section, stabbing one of them to death. Nedal heard how the dirty officer ordered his two remaining PAs to shoot the Kil’ra from behind. He was still trembling, he’d seen how that monster leaped around the battlefield shredding soldiers to bits left and right, making them stumble in terror.

  The Kil’ra even took down that AFV with only a pistol!

  Suddenly one of his PAs was hit by long range fire. The pilot tried taking cover but a second shot, even more accurate than the first, ripped through his torso armorplating turning the mech into a fireball. The second mecha’s pilot was able to triangulate the shooter’s position by calculating the railgun projectiles’ trajectory with the help of his scanner, and then returned fire.

  For a moment it seemed that all was fine. The Terran defective client fell on her knees, desperately trying to protect her Patron’s body by placing her own in the way. Not even the famed rage of her kind could beat the spear wall of his troopers! The two other AFV’s were closing in, sealing the gorge in from both sides and...

  Wait a second.

  Two AFV’s? Where had the third one gone?

  Scanners caught some strange noise that he, at first, didn’t realize was closing, or perhaps was distracted by the disturbing fact of that devilish Kil’ra’s survival. It soon rose into a high pitched whistling, and then he saw the rising smoke plume.

  That was AFV 4!

  The crafty Terrans had chosen this battleground wisely since it was riddled with weak magnetic anomalies and his grav-engine powered vehicles moved slower than usual. Before being blown to bits the machine was swinging around, trying to take position on the top west side of that bloody gorge. Somebody had shot it from behind and on the visual sensor link Nedal saw who. A Terran biker was chasing the two last troopers from that AFV’s section, while swinging something in the air. Nedal’s mind carelessly ordered his PA’s sensor to amplify the visuals and his jaw dropped.

  The bearded, angry Terran, was driving his bike using legs only, one hand holding a pistol and the other... a bloodied, gore dripping shovel. The farm tool he used to butcher one of his terrified troopers and the other, he shot. The man then swiftly turned his bike around, facing one of his other AFV’s – this time number 5. The man dodged one prematurely fired particle-beam, and returned fire with the long railgun attached to his machine.

  His weapon fired only once.

  The taz’aran vehicle, hit by the most monstrously fashioned armor piercing projectile he’d ever seen as a military man, splintered almost in twine. While the last remaining PA turned his attention toward this new threat its side torso exploded. Then he was hit again and Nedal lost his secondary link. Cursing, he switched over to the transport’s sensors only to witness how the human plowed through those spear wielding troopers who were all but ready to deal the killing blow and finish those female Terrans. The biker not only used the weapons he held in his hands, but the machine itself that he rode into battle on. That star trooper who stood over the gorilla got his head crushed by its rear tire, and after that the man dismounted, smashed another of his soldier’s faces in with one devastating swipe of that shovel, and he heard him saying:

  “A bike to the face! Works every, fucking, time!” – the audio was coming from one of the dead soldiers’ still active PDA.

  It was the shout of that smelly officer that pulled him back to where he was. The man pointed at a small sensor shadow moving on the very edge of their scanners. Panicking, he ordered the transport’s pilot to magnify, and even perform another more detailed scan. The shadow was magnified, sharpened, and then projected from as close as they possibly could, revealing a lightning fast hopping, hooded figure.

  It was a small bunny with a railgun.

  The officer started screaming orders in their comms. Quickly, as it was evident that they were bested, the star troopers retreated in an organized fashion. With their last AFV and its section madly firing at the battered Terrans, sufficient cover was provided so that they could pull back. Most of them managed to save themselves, with the exception of one section. Soldiers engaged in melee with the Kil’ra morale officer were either too embroiled in fighting or stricken by his presence to retreat. Despite his many wounds, and with his cape still smoldering, the warrior used both sword and shield. Quickly and one by one, they all fell to the ground – either with limbs chopped off, chests stabbed, or heads crushed by that shield of his. That last trooper tore the shield from the Kil’ra’s hand, and tried using it to finish the monster off. Nedal could swear to the Empress belt, that beast’s eyes glowed with some sort of unholy light. He swung, both hands holding his ornate sword, and with such power, speed, and precision, that the unfortunate trooper was split from head to pelvis. The Kil’ra then, body still twitching leaned and picked his bloodied shield up again.

  Without visuals, they now had to rely on raw sensor-package data from their transport. The taz’aran star troopers, maintaining good order, manged to reach the tree line somehow. Everybody was tired, disheartened and/or wounded. Most of all, the very fact they were deployed properly, with all the support a mobile infantry unit of that size might wish for, even heavies, and they got their asses kicked in the end, smothered their spirits. They had concentrated firepower, plenty of medical supplies, and ammo. They had almost defeated their enemy – after all, everybody saw how the Terrans were lying on the ground. It was simply a matter of bad luck that this other Terran had popped up when he did.

  Well, that was what most of the troopers were thinking, and while their section leaders had a far better idea of what had actually transpired, they kept their mouths tightly shut. Their new, highborn “commander” chose this moment to panically scream on open comms:

  “That small one, the Terran client... I... have seen her before,” – his voice trembled and faltered – “Do not let her get into the forest! Don’t let that bunny get into the forest!”

  Chapter 9

  Bloody roots

  Lilly’s eyes were full of tears, faceplate open, her fur all but soaked. She couldn’t hold the pain any longer after seeing Mack – the memories of him sneaking both her and her kid brother during the cool Carrolan nights, riding together on his bike when they were all but little runts.

  ’The Whistler’ was there too. In all its glory, chrome shining and megasteel engine set on idle, softly whistling.

  Covered with smelly taz’aran blood, Alberto’s gory shovel was slid between the bike’s engine and back saddle bar. Mack, or uncle Mackie, as the kids loved to call, him hadn’t changed at all. He still wore the same happy face t-shirt, kept the same beard and dirt covered eyeglasses, smudged here and there. She looked him in the
eyes and tried asking the question. She couldn’t get a word out, and yet he understood everything.

  “Yes, I buried them all,” – he sighed heavily looking at his bike – “Him too.”

  He produced a relatively clean handkerchief from his left leather jacket’s pocket, and while wiping her furry face looked around nodding at the rest of her companions. The tall Asgardian stood beside her, long rifle raised, face slightly twisted. His eyes though were fixated upon their retreating enemy and yet he did not fire, despite them being well withing his reach. A couple of feet away the two women and that heavily wounded kil’ra morale officer were lying on the ground. Their bodies steaming from all those med-sprays that he’d injected them with. Thankfully they had plenty of supplies, because he’d left his last (and empty) medi-spray to fuck with that taz’aran officer’s head. Obviously he wouldn’t give those shitheads the good stuff...

  The moment Mack saw that bunny something deep inside him twisted to the point of breaking. It wasn’t that he would suddenly burst into tears, though the sight of Lilly’s scarred face, the bald patches in her brown fur felt like a kick in the gut. He’d never realized up until now how Alberto might have felt about him. As much as he would allow himself to think about it, that colony was his piece of heaven, the little home away from home that he never had as a kid. The happy childhoods those kids lived together with their parents, were what deep inside he’d always wished to have had. Every smile was cemented in his memory, the laughter as they played, their screams of joy while he drove them around on his bike. The coughs and vomiting too, after they’d drank that smuggled first beer, hiding from their parents in the dark. How was it that those taz’aran shits had taken everything away from everyone that he’d even remotely cared for?

  Lilly’s breathing normalized and she’d stopped crying a minute ago, yet he continued holding her. Alberto did hug him exactly like that, even if little Mack would never say that he was hurt, or needed it, the old fart knew. Life moves on, fueled by the memories of your past happiness. He reached into the side saddle of his bike and pulled out the last two bottles of apple cider. Exported from Applecrate colony, it was one of the best ciders you could buy.

  “Want some bubbly juice?” – the bunny blinked a couple of times and snagged the bottle from him with eager paws. The beautiful, elongated glass bottle, was full of fizzling dark blue liquid. Lilly’s sad smile reflected off the bottle’s surface as she slowly opened it, unleashing its strong blue apple fragrance. Her brother’s favorite, she drank the cider as slowly as she could, burping loudly in the end and making Brynjar chuckle.

  Cat and Vasilisa picked themselves up from the ground, checking both their weapons and suits. The woman was married, Mack noticed quickly as her suit had that special mark on it. Right below her faceplate line there was the red heart, beautifully painted. Most of her suit’s murals had to be repainted because of the battle damage though. Shame, because it looked to be one awesomely marked suit. Mack could swear one of her murals represented her pulling big stasis pod while fighting alone against a bunch of tazzies. Impressive!

  The gorilla looked at him and extended her cyborg arm:

  “We are very glad that you chose this moment to intervene, Patron. Was it not for your timely assistance...”

  Mack pulled another bottle of beer from his bike’s saddle and shoved it in her still extended open hand:

  “Lose that ’patron’ stuff soldier – just call me Mack. I came here to buy fuel and shoot taz’arans... and I am all out of fuel. Had nothing else to eat except beer for three stinkin’ days, ship has no flying juice, crotch is all sweaty, and even the bike’s engine has started whistling strange.”

  Cat’s mouth formed a twitchy smile as she popped the cold one open, and sat next to the biker’s machine taking one big gulp of beer. Her eyes started watering slowly, after the familiar taste of ’Dusty Martian Swill’(TM) hit her throat. The same her master loved to bits. He even used to ride with Martian bikers after his contract with the Colonial Navy ended; always betting, trying to win the beer keg that was promised as a reward for the winner. Cat spent months training in zero G above Mars to qualify for her Stormtrooper Corps certificate. Back then that ale was one of her few joys, and they gave a free bottle to those trainees who had the best daily score. She always had the best score – obviously.

  With an angry murmur the kil’ra slowly raised himself from the ground, picking up all of his weapons and mag-locking them in their respective spots on his battered, armored uniform. All but his sidearm, which he held ready to fire. Cape and ornate cap had somehow survived throughout his fiery ordeal, though he would look at both and snarl angrily towards the distant taz’aran positions. The alien then strolled around checking bodies for spare power-packs and then before sitting next to Mack, slightly bowed his head:

  “Imperial Minarchy morale officer Dozan’Re, at your service.” – his extended hand was too filled with a chilled beer bottle, which he accepted, opening its cap with his thumb. Chugging a hefty gulp, the kil’ra sat on top of some taz’aran’s corpse, weapon ready to fire lest the enemy dare to attack again.

  Vasilisa dragged herself closer, reloading her plasma revolver before sitting next to them:

  “So, how bad are we tripped Lilly? Can we even think of recovering the DMS data now? I mean, they have their effin transport ship with all of its turrets and shields protecting them. The Frog cannons can drill through their armor, but if we get shot properly we wouldn’t be able to return back to the ship...”

  “Taz’arans had the module for more than a month now. If they didn’t copy, study and then encrypt the data then something is seriously wrong with them. Perhaps we can try and hack our way into their local network? Bee, what do you think?”

  The Asgardian had already lowered his Mosin and was tinkering with his PDA. A holo of taz’aran wireless network range was already being projected by his device and he had already marked some ’ghost’ spots. He used the already decrypted data that Lilly snagged from those commandos. It gave them comms and encrypted codes that only those teams used, but also a bug, an unintentional back door left in their firewalls, something that the team leader could use to override command links. Brynjar blinked in surprise at Lilly’s newly-found prowess, and ability to think on her feet, and then addressed everyone:

  “We have a chance but only if all of us combine our devices’ processing power. Otherwise we have to physically attack their now entrenched positions. I don’t want to go back to Anit’za and tell him we’ve failed without even trying to find out where those tazzies had transported the captured colonists.” – Brynjar’s large PDA certainly had more gadgets installed than usual and they would start with an advantage. Taz’arans had their transport’s mainframe which possessed infinitely more processing power than their measly portable computers. It would be a battle of skill against power. Brynjar with his usual do or do not try attitude, was already compiling a simple hacking algorithm, Vasilisa swiping all of her sensor-data packages was helping him. Lilly dropped the cider bottle to the ground and opened the holo-screen of her own PDA, but caught the look in Mack’s eyes, and then noticed his smile. The biker stood up and grinning tapped his own computer:

  “I don’t think you’ll be needing those files. You see, I know exactly where those colonists were ferried.” – the man scratched his beard and added – “And if you provide me with plenty of fuel and provisions, I will tell you where.” – after a short pause and under the devastatingly heavy glare of Dozan, Mack softened a little bit, raising both hands in the air:

  “Alright, alright! I’ll even come with ya,” – he paused looking at Lilly, who at that time was completely embroiled in her attempt to improve upon Brynjar’s hack bot – “but I really need something in return, see? That ship of mine can’t fly on good will lone!”

  “Well, always wanted to visit the place.” – capitulated the biker, exchanging yet another look with the group’s morale officer – “I want full salvage and fir
st pick on the loot though.”

  “Fine, you will get whatever you need biker! Just give us the data so that we can be on our way.” – added the spacer woman examining his face and demeanor, while trying to gauge what else the man could require at a later time. She had witnessed a deal between her dad and a space biker MC years ago. Those people were even more roguish than the spacers themselves. Her mom was feeling uneasy after some of the biker women challenged theirs to duels. They were brazenly trying to lure the still unmarried teenage boys away into their SMC, by impressing them with skill. Not only that, they dared to try to and seduce those men who had wives. Obviously something like that could be expected. When you face other lonely women who haven’t seen a man in years and suddenly the entire colony is chock full with hunks, roaming around and laughing boisterously. Nature was nature no matter how many light years you traveled away from your homewolrd. It all ended in a massive brawl, broken bones and property damage. Worse, their men had to finally intervene and beat the living crap out of everyone who resisted, be that male or female. That overstretched the good will of her people to its very end, not to speak of irritating that club. The memory was not one of her fondest. Enduring her calculating look, the biker continued talking:

  “The place is called ’Pion base’ and from what I know, this is a Clanner station that the shit-bloods are using too. I have the coordinates and complete scans of that solar system but,” – Mack pulled one small comb from his back pocket and straightened his beard before continuing – “there might be a small hiccup. The bastards have a lot of patrols, like fighters, space mecha and other deadly shooty stuff, ya know.”

  “You give us the info, let our captain worry about those patrols.” – replied Vasilisa unphased by the biker’s obvious, and shameless attempt to pull something more out of a bargain already struck.

  “What do you think, Cat?”