“What would it take to kill them?” Jones asked.
“Probably a space-grade rail cannon. One of them had a small KEW land on them and dug himself out from underneath and laughed it off. They walked through a hail storm of shrapnel, using melee weapons to kill Maraukians in droves. They had what we estimate to be a ten megaton anti-matter explosion occur a few feet above their heads and the armor that was on the surface was hardly effected.” M shrugged.
Jones barely stopped himself from rubbing his face in frustration.
“Each of them is eight foot tall or bigger. We do not have any images of them stepping out of armor. It is some people’s belief that they are connected to the armor. We have not been able to detect any seams or other openings,” M added.
“Do you have a briefing packet?” Jones asked, his stomach sinking.
Jones saw a message arrive on his implants.
“Thank you, that will be all,” Jones said.
M turned and left. Jones was irked by his lack of respect, but he was Nivad Selvra’s agent. He wasn’t going to comment on it and he had much bigger issues. Like trying to figure out how to defeat a force that were undefeatable. Most of the notes on the information came up with ideas that the users were genetically altered.
Professionals commented on how their movements were too fast for humans. Others guessed the kinds of technology they were using. Most of it was so obtuse they held little importance to Jones.
Jones stared at the screen, not seeing it, remembering the meeting he had two days ago with the COEMF the Commander of Earth’s Military Forces, who had ordered him to find a way to capture a “black suit.” Seemed someone higher up wanted one. He was damned if they were going to get it, but it was his job to come up with a plan.
He started working on it. He’d been reading books on tactics recently. His plan wouldn’t be elegant and he couldn’t give a damn about the losses it incurred. But it just might work.
***
Jones carried the tablet, which seemed to burn his hand as he knocked on the outer door for the COEMF’s office. He was greeted by a secretary, who guided him to a seat in the lobby as she paged the COEMF.
“He’s waiting for you,” she said ten minutes later.
As if, he thought, annoyed at the politics the COEMF was using. It would have been normal if they weren’t being attacked. The COEMF was a figurehead with little power other than what Nivad the Director of the Ministry of Intelligence and ruler of Earth and Her Colonies gave him.
“Thank you.” Jones closed the door behind him as he faced the COEMF. He studied the walls with the COMEMF’s I-love-me wall covered in pictures of him shaking hands with various important people and medals of valor—undoubtedly signed by an officer who he’d had to work directly under always in his purview.
Jones had seen the COEMF’s record. He had served in hostile environments watching the battles from the safety of his carrier, getting coffee and making sure the filing system wasn’t messed up.
His record wasn’t too different from Jones’.
He was a master of the corporate game. If Jones’s plan worked, then it would be good for both of them.
Maybe something to cement our relationship and help each other out in getting some better positions. Leave someone else to make up the plans.
“Jones, it’s good to see you. Sorry about that—completely lost track of time. Is that the plans there?” The COEMF pointed at the tablet.
“Yes, sir. The cost-to-benefit ratio isn’t the prettiest, but it will show results. With the information supplied by the Ministry of Intelligence,” Jones said. He knew how to cover his ass.
The COEMF looked as if he were just twenty years old with his anti-aging treatments. “Good.” The man smiled conspiratorially with Jones. “I’m sure it will go fine, General, and your position will be improved.” He said with a politician’s smile: hungry to move forward and little care for what means he used.
“Thank you, sir.” Jones smiled. Time in the corporate arena had taught him well and the COEMF was the kind of person that Jones could ride the coattails off to a higher position.
“Have you ever thought to your retirement?” the COEMF asked casually.
“It would depend on the package, I guess,” Jones replied, as if talking to an old friend.
In the higher positions, taking retirement didn’t mean getting kicked out before the EMF had to pay your pension and having your food and medical pulled from you. It meant transitioning from the EMF to other corporate ventures, using the contacts you’d built up to leverage a suitable position and continue the game in that arena.
“I, too, have been thinking how this job wears on a man’s shoulders and in the current tense climate, it’s best to make use of any advantages we can.” The COEMF and Jones shared a smile.
Chapter 56
SLS Moby
Gilese Actual, Gilese system
9/3353
Damus looked as terrible as Charles felt. They’d been in the second battlegroup together but Charles had been so busy keeping the Phantoms resupplied and seeing as the Moby II didn’t have its forges yet because he hadn’t finished the lockout protocols, he was now on Lily Jumper, an asteroid miner.
He was tired of the constant banging which rang through the ship at all times as the ship mined the asteroid it was stuck to like a limpet. The lighting was too dull. The smell of chemicals that he knew were bad for a person gave him headaches. It was time he got the protocol finished—well, after he got the Phantoms’ gear all sorted, seeing as they needed to have it made out of the nanites’ vats. It was all quite a mess.
So he was thankful for the small break he got when Damus had asked him to join him on the Reclaimer.
“We need more actual Phantoms.” Damus sat in his chair, nursing an energy drink.
“The senate okayed it?”
“They will after they see the results that they’ve produced. They took entire cities by themselves. They’ve each killed more Maraukians than I could count in a lifetime and there are thirty-three of them.”
“Sixteen of them were killed on Gilese,” Charles pointed out quietly, remembering the faces of those he wouldn’t ever see alive again.
“I know but if we get more of them out there, maybe in mutual support, then damn, think what they could do? A maniple of Elves taking a city instead of a century. They’d have less casualties; they’d be safer, could do it faster, get more rest, and have more firepower and ammunition.”
“All good things. With the senate’s approval, we can get the suits. The MI overall aren’t too bad—they just need a guiding hand.”
“We need to keep Mark on the frontlines. He’s a leader, not a trainer.”
“Agreed and I know he’d say the same. But then who?”
“Chyna and Ava?”
“Sound choice. Tested in battle. Ava also helped make the suit and they’re both the first trainers. Should be a good choice. Why two of them, though? It would only need one probably. Plus we’d be taking two decani. With a group that is thirty big, losing two is a major loss.”
“This is true, but we can have one back up the other, in case.”
“All right.” Something didn’t sit right with Charles.
“We’ll talk with Mark when he’s free and see if we can’t iron it out after all of this mess.”
“Agreed. And get some actual sleep, Damus. I have a feeling it’ll only get harder after this one.”
“I have that feeling too.”
Chapter 57
Sillicate City
Gilese Actual, Gilese system
10/3353
“Fortieth floor clear.” Mark clipped onto the nanowire attached to the roof of the building. His camouflage melted into what he passed as he and three others soared up past the next floor.
“Forty-first floor clear,” Evan said, walking out to his own line.
“I’ve got some security contractor types acting kind of weird near me. There’s four companies in on
e building. Seems they cleared it and have armor on the bottom floor,” Jarek said as he cleared his own building.
“Let them be, but keep an eye on them. We still have a city to clear.”
Clearing the floors had become easier as the herds settled down on their own floors. Their territorial nature meant they spread out to cover an entire floor, claiming it as their own. The Phantoms would move onto a floor; using stealth and their mono weapons, they’d kill as many as possible without raising the alarm and move quickly to the herd commanders, who instead of asking for reinforcements—which would make their territory look weak, thus letting other herds take over—they’d have their forces fight with vibro-blades so the other herds wouldn’t notice.
The herd commanders hadn’t seen the Phantoms fight; they went through the vibro-wielding Maraukians as if they were butter. Sometimes this plan went to shit with the herd commander being smart enough to ask for reinforcements, thus alerting the whole tower, now hungry to gain more territory.
That was why both Ava and Dodger where in a firefight in the tower counter-clockwise to their position. The reinforced glass of the building would blow out occasionally, marking their progress and leaking black billowing smoke.
“They’re good,” Mark said to Sarah, watching them move on his split screen as he beheaded a Maraukian. He cut its partner in half, stabbing the last one in the head as it raised its coilgun.
“They’ve always been good.”
“I know but the last time I was able to see them operate by themselves fully was back in Crisidium. Since then, I’ve been too busy coordinating the battle to see how they’ve changed.”
“Everyone’s changed a lot, including you, Mark.”
“That’s true.”
“Mark, are you happy?”
Mark floated above five Maraukians in a circle. He crushed the first two with his boots, the two across them with his swords; his right flicked out faster than a snake as he turned the last Maraukian’s head, hitting the ground with a wet thump. He used anti-grav to cushion his footfalls as he thought about the random question.
“I guess I am. War is bloody and filled with confusion and loss, but now I know what I’m fighting for. I have what I need to fight my enemy and I’m not killing humans anymore because some bastard thinks they’ve overstepped their bounds so the only way to solve it is to kill them. With this, it’s them or us—and we’re not going anywhere.”
Sarah experienced the surety of that statement and felt something unlock. “Would you do everything and anything to save the human race?” Her tone was weird but she wanted to know so badly.
“Yes, I would hope so.”
She felt the hope he would do what he could at the right time, even if it meant his death. She felt not his willingness to die, but the willingness to give his life for everyone else.
“What if it went against orders?” Her tone was now mildly masculine.
“I hope it would never be against my orders.”
She felt satisfied deep in her programming as they headed back toward the line and to the next floor.
“Seems a bunch of corporate-paid security contractors are following us,” Jarek said.
Mark sensed his unease. “What kind of units?”
“Scouting.”
“All right, screw them for now and let them do what they want. As long as they don’t get in our way, don’t pay them any attention.”
“Got it, boss.”
***
Mark and the Phantoms rested on the government building of Hope. Mark had just finished reporting to Sextilius. The city was twelve times the size of Remorse and stretched for kilometers. It had taken them four days to clear the city
“Seems they’re coming for a visit. Damn, there’s a lot of them,” Jarek said. The city seemed to leak security contractors, from professional corporate forces to the security forces that acted as the police and emergency reaction services. Personnel streamed out from every tower—every doorway, window, and opening.
“All right. Freusht, Horlem, Queen, and Jarek—on me. Let’s go and see what the hell it is they want.”
***
Gunney Davos watched the twenty or so suits on top of Hope’s central tower sitting on the edge without a care in the world through his sights. He’d seen the towers these same suits had walked through filled with dead Maraukians, some looking as if they’d been killed by a shredder. More than one contractor had lost their rations as they’d taken their plasma and coilguns.
They’d mounted the heavier versions of the weapons on specially made transports, the smaller ones with modified grips to better suit a human. None of them had fired the things and Davos hoped to hell they wouldn’t.
“Nobody fucking shoot unless I say so,” he said for the hundredth time to his platoon, hoping they listened as they advanced to the tower.
He’d been told they weren’t going to do anything but talk to the suits. But the hover tanks and how everyone was arming themselves with Maraukian weapons made him think those weren’t his exact orders.
He saw five of the black suits step out into thin air, dropping from the top of the tower five kilometers above the ground.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed as the suits disappeared from view. He shook his head as he put his rifle on his back, checking his Maraukian weapon and the two massive boxes of ammunition he’d taken. Sighing, he continued moving forward with his platoon.
***
Mark walked at the front of the arrowhead toward the contractors, everyone’s guns holstered.
“Just a lovely stroll toward a bunch of rent-a-soldiers,” Jarek said sarcastically.
“It seems they’ve picked up heavy coil and plasma guns, mounting them on some vehicle bodies through a jury-rigged firing mechanism,” Freusht supplied, sending the sensor readings from the Phantoms on top of the tower. “The smaller coilguns—they’ve made a handle and trigger assembly. How effective they are is to be seen.”
“I wish I was playing football instead of this crap,” Horlem said.
“That’s because all you do is play soccer, Horlem,” Freusht retorted to the laughter of the Phantoms.
“Football, Freusht. Damned barbarians call it soccer.”
“I’ve seen a few football games. The players aren’t much better than barbarians, though their acting skills when they get a little tap—there is no match in the world.”
“Say that again!” Horlem yelled in response to the old argument.
Mark stifled his chuckle. “All right, ladies, let’s go see what they want.” They turned the corner onto the main straight where the majority of the contractor forces were advancing. Mark’s voice boomed through their external speakers.
“What do you—”
“Kill them all except for the middle one,” a loudspeaker replied.
Sarah and the other AIs activated their anti-grav. The world disappeared as heavy rail guns and plasma bolts smacked Jarek, Queen, Freusht, and Horlem.
Mark and Sarah merged instantly. Sarah updated Mark immediately as she brought his weapon systems online, running diagnostics as he jumped into a nearby tower.
Freusht had caught a rail gun round through his suit.
“Traiterous bastards!” Mark yelled out.
Pain, fear, and confusion filled his link to the net before Freusht’s life disappeared. His merge link died as well, telling Mark all he needed to know.
Horlem’s upper torso had vanished in a geyser of superheated metal, body parts, and armor. Anger and pain registered before his link went dead too. Queen no longer had anything from mid-thigh down. Jarek was missing an arm and had severe burns along the right side of his arm. But their suits took over, sealing the wound and pumping them with painkillers.
Mark had caught some of the blast coming from the plasma bolts that had killed Freusht and Horlem. He relished in the pain as it turned to anger. He breathed, feeling the control of the merge change. Anger and aggression were his world as information came faster and faster
to him. He walked to the edge of the broken window he’d jumped in and looked at the three companies of private security forces. His superheated armor set anything flammable ablaze as thick black smoke rose from the window.
***
Gunney Davos was in shock as the vehicle carriers fired, the rest of the contractors following suit. The suits flew in random directions, one exploding and the largest one’s suit radiating heat waves as thousands of rounds filled the air. The suits disappeared behind cover.
Surprisingly, none of Davos’s people had fired. He turned to them, remembering what his friend Warrant Officer Tobias had said.
“Full unload. Everyone right fucking now. Throw your weapons down and interlock your hand behind your head and lie on the fucking ground. No fucking arguments.” Davos saw others throw their weapons away.
“Leave and you’ll be listed as treasonous and be banned to the outer systems,” the general in charge of the operation said through his loudspeakers. He turned back to the building where the biggest suit had disappeared into the tower. “Leave your weapons behind and present yourself to be detained.”
“The weapons you are using are not yours. They are the property of Roma’s legions. Your lives, however, are now MY PROPERTY.” Twin red orbs shone through the billowing smoke. Subsonics entered the man’s voice, drowning out anything else. It walked to the front of the building. The clean lines of the suit were gone; the hands were now claws. Spikes and interlocking blades covered its body.
“We came to help your people—you repaid our help with death. Disarm yourselves and you will be detained until a later date, when you may be released. Do this NOW!”
The Tenth Awakens (Maraukian War Book 1) Page 31
