Extinction Fleet 1: Space Marine Ajax

by Sean Michael Argo

  “You have encountered something new, Ajax, a creature and swarm tactics that we have not yet faced, and it troubles me,” said the skald after Ajax was finally able to finish his report, struggling to recall every horrible detail of the beast. “What troubles me more is the resurrection dream, and the possibility that your very consciousness has been compromised.”

  “Compromised?” breathed Ajax, taken aback at the possibility that his mind was not his own.

  “The official stance is that it’s just a soldier’s mind sorting it all out. No evidence has been presented to the contrary, and we’ve been at this for a long time,” said Mahora, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the far wall. “What the skald suggests is that the enemy may have found a way to take a peek at the sorting. That about the long and short of it sir?”

  “Close enough for grunts,” nodded Thatcher with a faint smile, which melted away as he returned his gaze to Ajax. “You and your comrade were the only marines in the field who actually laid their eyes upon this elusive new creature, despite the dozens of confirmed kills inside Watch Tower, including the Watchman himself. Hart survived his encounter, having driven it away moments after the beast had fatally impaled you. Can you see where I’m going with this?”

  “I am the only marine to both see the creature and to have died,” answered the marine, the knot in his belly tightening as a feral sort of fear began to take hold.

  “The ‘forward observer’ as you call it, infiltrated our perimeter, either before the spore bombardment or just after. Once inside it sought out the Watchman, slaying any marine that happened to be in the way, with absolute stealth,” said Thatcher as he produced a datapad and slid it across the table to Ajax, who saw that it was a series of photos depicting the messy remains of the Watchman. “Whereas the other marines were killed in a similar manner as you were, the Watchman appears to have been held in place as his helmet was destroyed, his skull opened, and his brains vacuumed away.”

  “What does he say of the creature?” asked Ajax, a knot of fear beginning to form in his guts, “Or has he not yet emerged from the body forge?”

  “Now we have come upon the meat of the subject, the prime reason that I require your silence on the specifics,” said Thatcher, reaching across the table and scrolling through the photos until he came upon a particularly grisly one of the Watchman’s empty skull. “At first, command could not fathom why an enemy combatant would consume only the brain of a victim, as we all know that the ripper drones are somewhat voracious battlefield eaters, and even some of the gorehound have been observed partaking of the flesh of the fallen immediately after an engagement. As you know, combat feeding is part of their standard behavior, to replace the massive amounts of energy they expend during battle.

  Thatcher joined Ajax in scrutinizing the photo. “This was a highly selective feeding, quite uncharacteristic, and to our knowledge, the first of its kind. This war has been waged across the stars of our galaxy for many years, and in that time, we have adapted our weapons and tactics to face the specific threat that the swarm poses. It has been a dance between humanity and the enemy, as much a game of move and countermove as it is an arms race to develop the most effective ways of killing each other.”

  “The Garm adapt,” growled Mahora, looking away from the tablet in disgust. “Marines overcome.”

  “That has indeed been the case so far. The gorehounds evolved all of that barding armor after we introduced the pulse rifle, and the ridgebacks began firing solid ordinance once we began using the rebreathers. Our most important advance has been in the cloning technology that yielded men like us, the Einherjar, giving us the ability to mimic their breeding rates and keep our ranks refreshed. We are denying them a victory by attrition, which by all accounts seemed to have been their overarching strategy. It has all been very symmetrical, in the grand scheme of things,” discussed the skald before sitting back in his chair, suddenly looking haggard, as if even the thought of his next statement fatigued him.

  “This selective feeding by a new Garm organism represents the first time that the swarm has evolved rather than adapted,” he began. “We believe that the creature was responsible for the deaths of our recon scouts, and was sent with a specific mission to harvest the Watchman. We must assume that with that level of selective targeting the purpose must have been to gather intelligence.”

  “Official briefings state that Garm aren’t intelligent, more like a complex hive executing pre-programmed chemical commands that mimic intelligence, like ants or bees back on Earth,” argued Ajax incredulously, even though he had a feeling that Thatcher would correct him for regurgitating official doctrine. “An operation like that would take, I don’t know, something like abstract thought, the capacity to make value judgements in the selection of prey.”

  “Which is why we cannot allow this assassination to go unanswered,” replied Thatcher. “The enemy assaulted our defenses, knowing to target the anti-air battery with spore fire to protect an initial shrieker swarm. They didn’t attack to seize ground or even consume our forces, those were secondary objectives. That was made clear by the timestamp on the Watchman’s torc, as the swarm lost its momentum the moment he was terminated, and as you know we were able to wipe them out with relative ease once they stalled in their advance.”

  “In the absence of the Watchman, command of our forces has gone to Captain Yusef of the Bright Lance, and at his request the All-Father has sent us Skald Thatcher,” growled Mahora. “He was the nearest operative in the field, so he and his squad have been re-assigned to Heorot.”

  “The absence of the Watchman?” asked Ajax, confused at how both the skald and the jarl continued to speak of the commander in the past tense.

  “Your commander has not been questioned yet because he died of an uncontrollable seizure moments after resurrection. When Idris brought him back he died the same way once more, the same has been the case for three of the recon scouts,” answered Thatcher, his voice grim as he took the datapad back from Ajax and returned it to his pack.

  “Whatever the beast did to them seems to have interfered, perhaps permanently, with the mind’s ability to accept rebirth,” Thatcher continued. “The fact that you suffered a similar, if non-fatal, seizure, and that you both were the only marines to witness the creature, is most curious, and begs for keen observation of your actions during the continued defense of this city. Your silence with regards to the fate of the Watchman and the similarities of your resurrection is what I expect from you, Einherjar, all the rest will be shared with the others at Hydra Company’s next briefing.”

  “What would you have us do, sir?” asked Ajax.

  “We shall be like the thanes of old,” smiled Thatcher as he stood up from his chair and rapped his armored fist on the table, “And wait in the hall of Heorot to catch Grendel unawares.”

  “This war has gone sideways on us, marine,” said Mahora as he watched the skald walk through the open door. “Time to turn with the tide.”

  WAR WITHOUT END

  Ajax pushed against the ground, his muscles straining for a moment to break the suction of the churning mud before, he could pull himself out. With one hand, he wiped at the thick clumps that clung to his visor while he groped along the bottom of the trench for his pulse rifle. All around him the air was filled with explosions of gunfire and the screams of the dying. Once he had cleared his visor and his fist had found purchase on his rifle, the marine took stock of his immediate surroundings as he tried to clear his head.

  He saw another marine struggling to pull himself from the mud and realized that everything around him was covered in Garm spore. The sight of it shook loose his mind and the marine recalled standing on his firing step moments before, methodically hurling bolts into the oncoming swarm of ridgebacks.

  The Einherjar had repelled the first wave of ripper drones and gorehounds and with the help of the anti-air battery had all but wiped out a small swarm of shriekers. Ajax realized he must have been knocked fro
m the wall by the spore attack. Indeed, the ridgebacks had waited to launch their spores until they were just inside rifle range. Instead of ordinance arcing over the sky and down into the trench, the ridgebacks charged headlong into the Einherjar guns, dying by the score but pounding their spores into the defenders at such close range that many, like Ajax, had simply been blown backwards into the ditch.

  “Meat!” roared a voice behind him, and when the marine turned, he saw a ragman getting shakily to his feet. It wasn’t until it slid a pistol from its hip holster that Ajax realized it was Boone standing before him.

  Ajax snapped his rifle to his shoulder and fired, knowing that if he hesitated even for a second, ragman Boone would kill him with the pistol.

  The first round sent the ragman stumbling backwards. The second sent him toppling over from both the force of the impact and the corpse strewn trench that was apt to trip anyone not paying attention. As Boone fell, Ajax realized there were several more marines locked in a violent struggle with each other and in the frenzy of rifle, fist, and trench spike, Ajax could not tell ragman from marine.

  Ajax fired one last round at Boone as the ragman struggled to get to his feet, catching his former comrade just under the gap between his chest piece and his lower body plating. When the ragman exploded in a cloud of mud, armor, and gore, Ajax turned back to help the marine behind him.

  The marine was standing with his back towards Ajax, still as the grave, despite the bloody madness unfolding in the trench. The marine slowly turned to look at Ajax, his ruined face clearly visible through the shattered visor of his helmet. A bolt had all but vaporized the ragman’s head before he could utter the one word the ragmen knew. He collapsed in the mud and lay still.

  In the distance, Ajax could see that the marines on that flank were also mired in a civil war against numerous ragmen. Without getting into the thick of the fighting there was no way for Ajax to tell friend from foe and he wasn’t about to fire indiscriminately, so he moved back into his firing position.

  Rama and Yao were still holding above, each man firing methodically into whatever horrors approached, while Sharif was lost somewhere in the pile of corpses that choked the bottom of the trench, having been slagged by one of the shrieker weapons. The ridgebacks had never attacked in such a manner and the change in tactics had proven radically effective.

  Up and down the trench line a sizeable number of the marines who had not already been transformed into ragmen were struggling to deal with those who had and only a few men were left on the firing line.

  Ajax joined his comrades on the line and saw what was coming for them. The ridgebacks, their spores now spent, were careening towards the trench, heedless of the grievous damage being done to them. To the marine, the ridgebacks were similar to the long extinct rhinoceros, only blended with the peculiar insect and reptile features common to all Garm.

  Each of them had what could only be described as a cannon barrel jutting up from their backs, hence their name among the grunts as ridgebacks. They had thin chitin armor over their bodies, but not in the kind of thickness sported by the gorehounds or ripper drones, which was a meager blessing.

  Ajax knew that if even one reached the trench it would exact a heavy toll. Each creature had several horns and scything chitin blades mounted on its head and shoulders that they could use to terrible effect.

  “Go for the legs!” came the voice of Jarl Mahora over the command channel. “Every one that falls is a pile of blades and muscle to blunt the charge! Full-auto!”

  Ajax did as ordered and thumbed his fire selector over to full-auto. The marine braced himself and cut loose, rapid firing bolt after bolt at the veritable forest of limbs that pounded across the ground towards him.

  At first, the marine had been incredulous about the call for full-auto, and then he realized the simple genius of the tactic. While the methodical approach was best for efficient killing, even the sniper, Hart, would have been hard pressed to score a clean hit on the swiftly moving limbs of the beasts with enough speed to slow their advance.

  The marine gave a shout of exaltation as he sprayed rounds into the creatures, watching as some of his bolts found their mark. When the bolts hit, they blew huge chunks of the ridgeback’s leg away, sometimes even severing the limb entirely. As each of the great beasts toppled over those beside and behind stumbled or fell.

  The magazine clicked empty and Ajax vented the heat as he swapped in a fresh carbon mag. The marine saw that some of the ridgebacks indeed had been tripped, impaled, or both by their fallen comrades, and much of the swarm had become a confused mess.

  As Ajax brought his rifle up again he realized the awful truth. Mahora’s tactic would have worked beautifully had there just been more rifles on the line. They could have stopped the enemy charge and then gone back to selective fire to finish them off. As it was, there were just too few men left in the fight, and after the initial carnage, the remaining ridgebacks were plowing over their wounded comrades and nearing the trench.

  Ajax could see WarGarm lurking amidst the ridgeback swarm and knew that this stage of the battle was lost. There was no time left to retreat to the second parallel and for a moment Ajax held his fire and simply looked at the oncoming wave of death. Once again, the Garm had willingly sacrificed the lives of thousands in a suicidal series of attacks, only this time the marines might not be able to rally.

  “First parallel is lost! Deploy Blackouts and blow the connecting lines!” ordered Mahora, and Ajax knew that the jarl saw the same defeat looming, “If they want in they’ll have to come over the top! Make them pay for it marines!”

  No sooner had the order come than Rama was blasted from the firestep by a high velocity spore globule. Apparently, a few of the ridgebacks weren’t as empty as it seemed, and Ajax was again covered in the fetid substance. Yao kept firing, though Ajax could tell that the man was praying that his fellow marine wouldn’t turn.

  “I’m with you,” said Ajax and then turned his rifle against the enemy, spraying a volley of bolts through the wave of alien flesh that descended upon them.

  “If we lose the trench permanently they won’t be able to recover our torcs,” observed Yao as he vented his rifle and slapped in a fresh magazine. “They’ll have to bring us back without any memories of this fight.”

  “That’s happened to us all before,” responded Ajax as he vented and reloaded, “Doesn’t mean we won’t be ourselves again.”

  “Can’t say I wouldn’t mind forgetting this one,” said Yao as he raised his rifle, “It’s about to get nasty.”

  The two men emptied their weapons once more, their combined fire making a withering curtain of bolts that left many beasts thrashing and bloody on the scrabble ground.

  Ajax cursed as his rifle jammed when he attempted to vent. He knew that if he didn’t get it cleared the trapped heat would melt the gun’s inner workings. The marine knelt upon the fire step and produced his multi-tool, scrambling to clear the weapon. Just as he pulled the breach open, venting the incredible interior heat of the weapon, there was a sickening crunch sound next to him.

  Ajax looked up just in time to see the massive head of a ridgeback burying its horns into Yao as it hurled itself over the lip of the trench.

  Seven hundred pounds of slavering alien beast plummeted down the side of the trench wall and tumbled to the bottom, leaving a wet smear of blood and armor as Yao went with it. Ajax stood and leveled his rifle upon no man’s land only to see several more ridgebacks approaching.

  “Meat!” howled a voice behind him and armored hands grasped Ajax by the legs and pulled hard.

  The marine lost his footing and smacked into the bottom of the firestep as he was pulled off the trench wall. He looked back and saw that Rama had become a ragman, his helmet and armor cracked by the impact of the spores, making his infection swift. Below them, the first ridgeback was getting to its feet, though a great shadow loomed over Ajax, and another ridgeback sailed over the trench. The creature’s bulk carried it nearly to
the edge of the opposite lip of the trench, but it landed just short and slammed into the far wall.

  Ajax found himself screaming at the sight of it all. With one hand holding the bottom of the firestep and the other his rifle, he began shooting. He fired wildly, emptying his magazine on full-auto into the bodies of the thrashing ridgebacks. By the time his gun clicked dry he’d reduced the creatures, and the corpses they’d landed upon, into a thick soup of mud and smoking carnage.

  “Meat!” shouted ragman Rama as he lashed out with his trench spike over and over, trying to drive the tip through the joints in Ajax’s thigh armor.

  The marine let go of the firestep and the two opponents fell into the mess at the bottom of the trench. Ajax landed on top of his enemy, using his weight to hold the raving lunatic in place, pinning one arm and pressing down on its chest.

  The ragman stabbed with his spike again, but thankfully, Ajax managed to angle his shoulder so that the point glanced off his ceramic armor. The marine had no time to reach for his own spike, as he could feel the thunderous impacts of more ridgebacks filling the trench, so he shoved the breach of his pulse rifle against the ragman’s shattered visor. When Ajax released the catch, the pulse rifle vented all the heat built up by the full-auto bursts. At point-blank range, it burned out the ragman’s eyes. The enemy was blinded and in sufficient shock from the pain that it allowed Ajax to draw his own trench spike and drive it down through the ragman’s eye socket and into his spore-riddled brain.

  That made two of his comrades he’d had to kill today, and it took everything Ajax had left to stand back up. Explosions rocked the trench and he knew that what was left of Hydra Company was holding the second parallel and had now blown the connecting trenches. There would be no way to reach the parallel without crossing no man’s land. He found himself wondering if the rest of the Einherjar front had been attacked with this level of ferocity and new battle tactics or if once more Trench 16 had withstood the worst of it.