Bryluen let out a sigh of relief. “I will work with you on whatever accommodations you need. Any concern you have, you can bring to me personally.”
6. Dawn of Dread Naught
Raven’s Landing was expanded greatly in the three months since High Command had granted Bryluen control of Dread Naught. During that period, three more attacks by the shadowy creatures—all on a small scale—had occurred for no obvious reason and with just as sudden an end.
The library and exercise room were extended while a full machine shop, firing range, and an automatic medical bay had been added. Along the corridor leading to Bryluen’s room, living spaces tailored to the requests and needs of each task force member were constructed. There were now two storage areas at the beginning of the corridor for excess supplies and equipment. Bryluen’s armor stand was now part of a larger equipment area that could accommodate whatever armor and necessary supplies were needed by each task force member during an emergency deployment. The remainder of Raven’s Landing was already been intended to accommodate meetings and gatherings of various officials, so further extensions were unnecessary.
That morning was the first time the members of the task force met one another. Each was to arrive via low key, private transportation arranged by the CSOE. Bryluen waited in the lobby, leaning one hip on the rim of the fountain with a tumbler of whisky in hand. She wore a stone-gray set of semi-formal attire, but was barefoot as was her custom when home. Outside a calming rain poured from the pale sky, the drops quietly dissipating against the windows upon the faintly visible haze of the reacting energy shields. The trees were unfurled as widely as possible to catch the nourishing downpour. A flash across the horizon occasionally heralded a gentle roll of thunder.
The Operative gazed into the serene storm and sipped from the swirling darkness in her tumbler, contemplating the feeling of trepidation in her gut. Even for her, Dread Naught was an important and high-risk operation. Nonetheless, she believed fully in each risk she had taken with her task force selections. She had made charts and tables of possible conflicts of methodology or personality, and carefully studied tactical information to generate the most balanced group she could. She had consulted every form of information possible and every angle she could conceive, but nothing so important could ever be predicted or planned for entirely. Even for a group of five it was certain to be a monstrous endeavor—after all, High Dispensation Initiatives were rare and expensive for a reason. The funding and wide purview granted to Dread Naught was itself a sign of how unpredictable and difficult the task was expected to be. It would be foolish for her not to feel a tense expectation at the outset of such a mission.
The first member of Dread Naught to arrive was Kirby. Unknown to them, Bryluen had arranged for their arrivals to be evenly staggered a half hour apart, giving her time to introduce each to his or her living space and have them get accustomed to the layout of Raven’s Landing. In addition, each member had been given dossiers on the others to reduce the possible amount of surprise—particularly where Vort and Nicadzim were concerned.
Kirby, inside the Marduk, exited the Marine lifter that had carried her out onto the landing pad. A faintly visible haze of energy dissipated the rain falling upon the surface of the landing pad. Kirby had her belongings secured to cargo containers on the exosuit’s back. Ducking into the entry hatch, she read the signage in the entry way and backed herself up into the equipment area. Kirby popped her cockpit open and stepped out of the Marduk to grab her belongings. She wore a white tank top beneath a worn denim jacket, while her legs were still clad in her Jockey fatigue pants and combat boots. An orange cap sat atop her head. Dragging the pair of Marine-issue metal wheeled cases containing her belongings, she rolled into the lobby. She instinctively popped a sharp salute to Bryluen, who waved her down. Kirby briefly shook her head, realizing she had already forgotten she wasn’t reporting to a Marine anymore. Bryluen rose and greeted her before helping Kirby tow her things to her living space.
Being a career Astral Marine, Kirby’s tastes were by no means extravagant. A standard twin bed, a practical couch, and a massage chair adorned an otherwise plain room and basic bathroom (albeit with a heated toilet seat). Most of the important parts of Kirby’s lifestyle were books contained in her cargo, her small selection of clothing, some basic toiletries, and her favorite hand-portable tools. Bryluen and Kirby made some small talk, mainly about the type of whisky Bryluen drank and the significance of Kirby’s book selection.
The second arrival was The Saint-Runner, who had even fewer personal belongings. He unsurprisingly wore his black athletic wear and hydraulic boots. The bulk of what he had brought were his weapons and the tools he used to maintain and improve them. Bryluen again helped the Saint-Runner get settled in, allowing him to awkwardly probe her with several specific questions about the living situation. He was clearly unfamiliar with the mundane aspects of living with others. His living quarters were cozy enough, with a soft carpet and a few pieces of comfortable furniture. For him it was a distinct pleasure to live somewhere in any sort of comfort so he was quite excited to see his room for the first time, making special note of the roomy shower.
Kirby was sitting in the lounge when the Saint-Runner had finished unpacking. Kirby blinked, wide-eyed, several times in a row as she got her first good look at his face. They recognized one another from the dossiers. Kirby stiffly motioned to the neighboring stool, a smile finding its way onto her face as an afterthought. Runner, apparently used to inspiring silent stares, slid into the stool and extended a hand to her.
“S-so, Sergeant Furcotte,” He allowed the phrase to hover for a moment. “I’m pleased to, uh, to meet you.”
Kirby briefly lost the ability to greet someone, and seemed to look for it somewhere between the Saint-Runner’s eyes. “... Call me wh— ... Kirby.”
He grinned. “It’s o-okay, I’m used to it.”
“Used to what?” Kirby’s nose twitched.
The Saint-Runner raised his eyebrows, and Kirby cleared her throat. “I’m gonna shake your hand now.”
“I think I’d like that.”
Third came Vort. The chamber made for him had a suitably low roof (and a similarly downsized door) and was an octagonal space with a sunken, padded area in one corner for sleeping. Otherwise the room contained various forms of media, and a device that both lit the area in multiple wavelengths and played tones coordinated with the light as it varied throughout the day. The device was built to Vort’s specifications and was common to find in the homes of his people, its multi-spectral effects apparently providing a certain atmospheric and psychological effect on him that would be important to his comfort. His bathing space was an automated dust bath, alongside a specially developed soap dispenser for his eyes. A Firmware patch had been applied to the Dispensary in the lounge to accommodate for Vort’s dietary concerns.
For obvious reasons the Saint-Runner and Kirby were highly interested in Vort, and the alien was all too happy to humor them. The last to arrive was, of course, Nicadzim. He brought the fewest supplies—simply some clothes and toiletries—and wore the same jeans as the last time Bryluen had seen him, along with a fitted blue shirt that emphasized his muscled bulk. His room was—at his request and warning—built to withstand many kinds of force. The furniture was made of strong materials, the walls were reinforced, and the door to his room was an armored hatch. According to Nicadzim he had more than once been set upon by indescribable entities while dreaming, and did not want to cause lasting damage if such a thing occurred. The only true nod to comfort in his room was a broad fireplace burning 3D-printed wood, with the excess thermal energy and smoke particulates recycled into other systems in Raven’s Landing.
Once Bryluen helped him settle in, she announced to the assembled group in the lounge they would start their inception meeting in a half hour. The group got acquainted with Nicadzim and due to the dossiers were curious but not overly surprised when oddities began to occur. At first all of them began to
simultaneously sneeze repeatedly for about ten seconds—including Vort, whose species did not in fact sneeze under normal circumstances. Soon after, the alien asked Nicadzim how he had learned Vort’s language. This confused the others, who realized they each heard him speaking in their own native languages. The large man was unsurprised by this revelation. Several minutes later, the friction of the bar-top mostly vanished. Kirby attempted to slide a mug over to the Saint-Runner at this time, unwittingly turning it into a high-velocity projectile. Fortunately, the Saint-Runner lashed out a hand and caught it almost instantly.
With each of the task force members having been introduced and beginning to get a feel for one another, they left the lounge to assemble in the handsome meeting room—or more accurately they entered the meeting room to find Nicadzim was already sitting there despite having been with them in the lounge. The meeting room at Raven’s Landing was a polished chamber with a long elliptical stone table in the center. A large projector display jutted from the center of the table, and comfortable wheeled chairs were aligned all around. The team sat arranged around the middle of the table with Bryluen standing.
The Operative opened the meeting using English, the language all of the assembled team members had in common. “Welcome to Raven’s Landing, your new home. Assembled here is the entirety of the CSOE task force designated: Dread Naught.”
The Saint-Runner nodded, clearly approving of the name. A golden wave of color washed over Vort as Bryluen continued. “Before I explain the details of our mission that were disallowed from being revealed until now, let’s go over names one more time. We’re going to need to be brief with each other in a combat situation. You don’t need to remind me I’m your superior, so you can just call me Bryl for short. Kirby and Vort are pretty practical. Saint-Runner?”
He pointed to himself and grinned. “O-oh, just call me Runner. Everyone already knows I’m a Saint.”
Bryluen and Kirby snorted. “Fair enough. Nicadzim?”
As always he took a breath before speaking. “I have not objected to being called Nico in the future.”
Bryluen clapped. “Excellent, that’s sorted. You’ve all seen your living quarters and been guided around the amenities. Each of you have a computer in your quarters with Gal-Net access as well as internal chat and messaging. I am always at your disposal, period, twenty-six hours a day. Questions, concerns, anything. I am used to a job that never ceases and it is important that you are comfortable and provided for because a lot will be asked of you. Having a private bath is the least compensation for the hardest work any of you will have ever endured.”
Bryluen paused and motioned to Nicadzim. “Well, most of you. Might that statement apply to you, Nico? Now I’m curious.”
The big man tilted his head back and forth for a moment. “This became the most difficult thing I had done was possible. I am certain that our work is thoroughly challenging by any standard.”
“Sounds about right to me. That brings us to what actually will be asked of you. As you all have heard, we will be engaging in combat against a new foe about which little is known. The framework in which we will be doing that is as follows: We have been given access to not only a newer protocol for Gate Dilation that will allow us more leeway in arrival distance, but an experimental space-faring vehicle that is being christened and delivered in ten days.”
Bryluen looked over to Kirby, whose face immediately shone with excitement. She nodded to the Marine. “Yes, Kirby, you will be the designated pilot unless circumstances intervene, and it is a beautiful piece of engineering. Though we already have several standard shuttles for other purposes, the quick-response vehicle will be what we use to answer distress calls or priority deployments in order to arrive on site in time to engage the enemy. Such will mainly involve our designated foe, but we may be expected to deal with other situations if no other CSOE personnel are available or if High Command dictates that we are the best for the job for any reason. As specified in your contract, you may also be expected to represent Dread Naught to dignitaries or other officials once we go live. That is, however, only expected to happen sometime after we have an established rhythm of operation. But as you can see, the job will involve quite a few responsibilities aside from the unique struggles of a small-unit operation against superior enemy numbers.
“As for our enemy: They have yet to receive an official designation. They have attacked a variety of targets in large hordes without warning, the largest attack being performed on a science facility with the only apparent result being the removal of an ancient stone. Details can be found in your Initiative On-boarding info packets. The enemy demonstrates no real will to communicate, and are absolutely aggressive upon sighting a foe to the degree that we believe the individuals we have encountered are reliant on another being’s intellect to provide them any real direction. The method of their appearance and travel is yet to be determined but is so far undetectable, even within ten thousand kilometers. For those unfamiliar with stellar combat, ten thousand kilometers is basically the end of your nose. Even then, visual contact has not been meaningfully established before the enemy lands. Upon first contact they will appear shadowy and insubstantial. Their visual impression becomes more clear in ultraviolet, but will completely solidify after a total of an hour or so of visual exposure. Recordings or camera views have no problems rendering them, however.”
With a press of a button on a console jutting from the table, Bryluen triggered an image of one of the thin, energy-projecting creatures. Post-battle reconstruction and the studying of recordings of the attacks made their biology clearer. Their petaled heads were ringed in patches of rough, bony growths like broken teeth. The opening in the head was lined in waves of thin fibers that vibrated when the creature vocalized. They also possessed a short tail for balancing their low, crooked posture. Bryluen allowed the team to look at the creature for a moment.
“This is being referred to as a Rabisu, and is the most commonly encountered enemy thus far. They stand slightly smaller than a Human and have sharp claws on their hands able to damage armor, though it will take them work to get through Marine plate. Through currently unknown methods they can generate and project flaming balls of energy capable of burning flesh and disfiguring standard Marine armor enough to compromise it. They are individually not very dangerous, but usually pour forth in a numerous wave.”
Another click, and the image changed to one of the horned, hunched beasts, a single faceted insectoid eye visible above its maw of tendrils. The creature’s horns were slightly twisted and crooked and its four muscular legs seemed a strict contrast to the twig-like build of a Rabisu.
“This is a Gugalanna, and is exactly as subtle as it looks. They’re as tall as a Human at the shoulder, and probably weigh around three hundred fifty kilograms. Gugalannas charge headlong and can toss aside a fully equipped man with its tendrils if need be. Otherwise it thrashes violently with its horns, and the creature’s strength means busting through infantry armor is fairly easy for it.”
Nicadzim sat forward and rested his elbows on his legs, his brow furrowed in thought like a statue of a stern deity. A sickly purple splashed down Vort’s wings as he observed the Gugalanna. Runner made a disgusted face at the projection of the creature, but was quickly distracted as the water in the glass he had brought into the meeting began to migrate sideways, threatening to spill out toward the wall. He quickly turned the glass on its side with a quiet clink and watched the water pool against the bottom. Kirby, who was sat next to him, dipped her finger into the water and watched as it dripped sideways back into the glass. They both stared a moment longer before Runner turned his head on its side and concocted a method of drinking some of his oddly-oriented water.
Bryluen triggered the display one more time to show a new creature, similar to a Rabisu but much taller. It was still lanky overall, and had a warped surface to its body like it was covered in burn scars. A dark, plate-like growth was spread across the front of its torso.
“T
his is what we’re calling an En-Rabisu, encountered only in the latest attack. Their behavior is reasonably similar, but they are a good head and shoulders over your average Marine and tougher than they look. Their energy projection and claws are accordingly much more dangerous. Fortunately, they seem much, much rarer than Rabisus.”
Runner had crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Enbisu. Quicker.”
“I’m sorry, what was that, Runner?”
He cleared his throat. “We sh-hould call it an Enbisu.”
Bryluen imperiously arched an eyebrow. “Well we just might do that, but the official name remains En-Rabisu for the purpose of thematic consistency. As of this time, those are the known forms of our enemy. All relevant information, action reports, etc., have been forwarded to your quarters and I expect you to read them. I’ll be sorting through further intel and will forward anything vital. Otherwise, anything we get will be available through the databanks in the library, as well as a steady flow of curated Galactic news.
“So, to recap: All amenities are available. I don’t care how much you eat, and I don’t care when you sleep but you will be able to at all times get out of this door within five minutes if the alarms go off. Period. You can do whatever you want on your personal computers, and whatever you want with your personal time here at Raven’s Landing—aside from getting out of shape—but to leave Raven’s landing and use a shuttle you are required to get clearance from me. If I’m in the office feel free to come in, and remember to relax. This will be stressful and difficult with a number of unique problems and challenges. Any questions?”
Runner raised his hand. “So to be clear I c-can work on my weapons and use the firing range as I want?”
The Operative nodded. “Absolutely. For you and anyone else, if you need supplies of some sort delivered that are directly relevant to the mission, ask me and I can get it arranged. To be honest our funding is enough that getting fancy ammunition and raw materials isn’t going to affect much. Anything personal comes out of your pay and can be ordered how you please. Any proper ordnance will need to be tested elsewhere with my approval, and obviously the Renewed Geneva Accords still apply.”
The Shadow Among The Stars: Book One of the Dread Naught Trilogy Page 6
