The
Unification
Chronicles
Book One
Survival:
No Priority
The First Chapter
Introducing the team
I
The seemingly endless sheet of crimson clouds rolled above the horizon of rugged ridges, flat rolling plains and mirror-blank lakes and puddles of ammonia. At the end of the horizon, towards the east, Jab Lor was slowly rising. The violet light of the greater sun heralded the second day of the war, but despite the grim circumstances, the halo of dawn transmitted a certain beauty.
The light penetrated through the thick mist of the lakes, reflecting in the still surface of the ammonia. It glowed over stones, ridges, hills and ruins, over destroyed battle-tanks and downed veet jets. The crunching sound of the scavengers – the kraz prawns, buzz crunchers and wobblies – had not yet silenced beyond the hill, where they were feasting on Laz's dead comrades.
The scavengers would however dissipate when the sun had reached above the clouds. Then they would crawl down to their puddles, caverns and shrub forests. Maybe there even would be a few hours of relative silence? At least before the day scavengers came?
Only that there wouldn't be any silence of course.
They had grown used to the relentless thunder which seemed to pound the ground in a regular, always musical pattern. The shrieking, whistling sound of incoming rockets was more remote now. The short, high-pitched sounds of laser turrets releasing their payloads had been absent, at least for the last few hours.
Laz turned around from the top of the small ridge and allowed himself to slide down on the slippery mud and pebbles which consisted the path down to the signal post. The post was not really a military installation, just as this mission was not really a military mission – strictly speaking at least.
The post was built on a ridge which consisted of rocks, mud and pebble which had been assembled from the excess of an old aluminium mine. The mine had been abandoned two months ago. The post had been used as a radar centre, a computer storage unit and a meteorological control station.
The radar tower was not camouflaged, but did not consist of anything more than what looked like three metal sticks on which a small ball in dark red balanced. The underground station was visible in the shape of a round metal door with an automatic switch. There were air openings as well, but they had been so ingeniously hidden that Laz could not – despite his experience as a tracker – detect their location. At least, he did not have the luxury to do so.
They were after all either behind the enemy lines – or worse – trapped in the no-man's land between the frontlines. While this base of operations lacked back-up in the form of a direct computer connection to the Colonel Kre's headquarters, as well as any defence capabilities whatsoever, it also enjoyed the privilege of being so seemingly insignificant that the Zorken war machine by any rational calculation must have it under the "u" classification on their priority list.
That would give Laz and his boys at least one or two hours.
Laz screwed the door over his head and climbed down the ladder down to the three-room facility. The first thing which he noticed through his sensory input was the scent of snackers. It seemed as if the breakfast had started without him…
II
The data storage facility had been turned into a small cantina. A small microwave boiler stood on the floor, with Hog kneeling above it, surrounded by two of the others. They did not even turn their heads when Laz marched into the room.
"And whaaat is thiiis supposed to mean!?" Laz inquired as he jumped over one of the desks, forcing his subordinates to look up as they watched him.
For a moment, an expression of sadness fell over Hog's face. Then he glowed up in a feeble smile and took up a small rod with a snacker on to give to Laz. Wer, another of the men nodded towards Laz.
"There's some soda in the fridge, Laz! Help yourself, boss!"
Laz's antennae started to move uncontrollably, and the commander inhaled the grease-smelling air, blowing up his cheeks while his fingers twitched. Even Vor, who had been busy eating on a snacker, turned his head up. He was still crunching, but watched Laz's breakdown – more with curious distraction than with fear.
Laz breathed out. For a moment, it felt hopeless, but nevertheless he had to persist. After all, when all of this was over, he could become an officer.
"I don't want any stinking soda! And what on Irk does that filthy fridge do inside this base! Why isn't it inside the Ground Runner! And what are you," he said and turned towards Vor, "even doing here!? You were supposed to guard the runner!"
Vor continued to slowly chew on his snacker, his hands down his pockets. The big purple eyes had something innocent and dreamy about them. Absent-mindedly, he moved one of his hands out and scratched his backside with it.
"You see Laz… *crunch*… Hog and Wer came… *crunch*… and wanted my… *crunch*… help with moving the fridge."
Hog's round cheeks shone up. "These snackers don't usually taste that good. But guess what I found in the locker room, Laz? One of the guys here had simply forgotten his spice stash here, with raquanas, weelo pepper and salt… I happened to tell Wer that I'm a chef, and Rax was pretty much pissed already, so Wer got the idea to cheer her up."
"Yeah," Wer affirmed, "and I happened to be pissed as well… if we don't have something to eat, there might be a mutiny, 'commander'!"
"And what is this then!?" Laz let out. "You have directly contradicted my orders! We are a highly professional and mobile unit on a top-secret priority-red mission! And I am Laz!"
Wer grabbed his wrench and crossed his arms. Hog moved in between the two Irkens – who by now were angrily twisting their antennae against one another – to steer off trouble. Vor had randomly moved to the corner of the room to lazily examining an air vent with his fingers.
"Can't we be friends?" Hog asked.
"Friends? Friends!?" Laz let out. "I've been outside for two damn hours, risking my life to be sure that there are no Zorken scum around to sneak up on us!"
"Yeah!" Wer continued his defiance. "Of course, we all know this remote station was chosen as our base because of its close proximity to the battle front! Or the likelihood of the battle front moving here… Admit it; you just like to go out because you like to piss outside!"
"Hey guys…," Vor said, holding something between his hands, "… you know what I found?"
"Nothing will cheer you up like a good breakfast a'la Hog," Hog reasserted. Laz was not impressed.
"When the Zorkens arrive, you will all kiss the feet of Laz! Because it's because of me you know no Zorkens are around here!"
"Look here!" Vor cheered and jumped up, releasing his hands. A small hoover beetle with luminescent shell and a protruding trunk buzzed over the room. Everybody ignored it.
"CAN YOU ALL BE SILENT SO I CAN WORK!?" a female voice echoed out from the corridor to the control pod.
"You see?" Hog nodded, trying to be psychological. "That's what we been through while you were gone, Laz!"
"DAMN! WORTHLESS, STINKING RADAR!"
"The snackers kept her quiet, until you came," Wer explained with a dark look in his red eyes.
Vor climbed up on the remaining archive locker, stretching out his long, thin hand to grab the beetle. It was hovering around the greenish fluorescent tube which apparently was on its dying breath, as much as it flickered. It gave the walls of the room a sick complexion.
Wer took up a cigarette from the pocket of his tunic, lightning it up and inhaled while looking at his comrade trying to catch the bug.
"Well," he sighed, "guess this is preferable to the meat grinder! Anyway, regarding the food, Rax became more and more hysterical the hungrier she went. I had this idea of solving it like I solve everything else. With my wrench. Preferably buried in the back of her head. What you say, Laz, you prefer a dead analyst or a moved fridge? And I am still taller than you since last time I checked…"
"You contradicted my orders!" Laz exclaimed.
The sounds emitted by the microwave oven had started to become screeching, and the light it emitted behind the transparent dome of compressed carbon composites had become blindingly red. A distinct sulphuric smell of burnt food and melting wires started to spread inside the room.
"But commander," Hog said, "we two weren't given any orders to do anything! How should we then be able to contradict anything!?"
His inquiry was more friendly than questioning, but Laz nevertheless treated it as a challenge to his authority.
"If I don't tell you to do anything, you should do nothing! You hear me! Nothing! You should not eat, talk or shit without my explicit permission! And you should damn well not move that stupid fridge from the runner unit and install it here!"
"DAMNED PURPLE-SCREEN! RESTART! RESTART NOW!"
"Look, Laz!" Wer let out. "We are four, you are one. If we're all going to survive as long as possible on this little 'vacation' together, then I'll suggest you're being a little more… 'cooperative'…"
The mechanic started to pound his wrench against his open palm in soft, rhythmic motions.
At that same moment, several things happened. Firstly, Vor either jumped out or fell forward, and Laz was certain he could see it unfold in slow motion. There was something beautiful over the lanky, tall Irken spreading his arms, as if he tried to fly, before diving down headfirst.
He landed softly on Hog and Wer.
At the same moment, the microwave kitchen burnt out. Its screeching fan blew up with a burping noise, and the dome-like sheath of composites seemed to retract before rapidly expanding, exploding and covering the walls with a disgusting cascade of molten carbon and burnt-out food. Laz protected his eyes with his arms as the explosion covered the room in a shower of blinding light and fell back by the heat-wave. The desk was somewhat slippery, and he couldn't help by gliding forward, falling down, landing with his bum on the heap of Irkens who lied there.
The panel of the fluorescent tube on the ceiling loosened (apparently because Vor – during his hunt for the bug – had gotten hold of it). It fell down silently and landed on Laz's head, not very unlike a transparent helmet coloured in dirt yellow. The green light from the tube fizzled in a small burst when something, most likely the beetle – flew right into it.
"Aww, shame…," Vor sighed with his deep voice. "Poor, poor butterfly…"
Laz tried to stand up, but he immediately fell down again, mostly due to his surprise when he saw Rax standing at the entry of the tube-like corridor, drumming with her fingers against the smooth surface of the fridge – which was the only thing which still worked as clockwork.
III
As the damage was evaluated, it is possibly time to take a closer look on the five-member ensemble.
Hog had served as the assisting chef in the cantina of the 337th Artillery Garrison, in the colony of Kreba, where he had been hatched several years prior. He was the shortest member of the team, but also the most compact. His body did not look too much unlike the barrel-shaped fridge, and his two main interests were cooking and eating. His red eyes were meek and fairly small for an Irken.
Wer was the team's mechanic, and had worked almost one year at the government-operated 'Big Cogs' armaments and vehicle factory in the capitol city of Jyr. He had previously served as a mechanic in the 248th Mechanised Division, before being dishonourably discharged for 'severely beating up an apprentice and destroying equipment worth a thousand moniez'. It had taken a team of four surgeons two hours to remove the portable control computer which Wer somehow had lodged inside the throat and chest of his subordinate.
He was a twitchy Irken with a slight bend to his neck, probably due to him spending most of his working time either sitting and staring down a can of soda, or leaning deep down into the entrails of complex ingenuous machines sprouted out by the Military Industrial Complex of the State of Jyreh. He wore a grey tunic over his sunken chest, had short legs and long arms, antennae which fell down over his green eyes, and a mouth which had both a bad breath and several stumps of slowly dissolving teeth, due to an addiction of soda and thick cigarettes. His red eyes formed narrow strips, and there were always twitching movements around the neck.
Vor was the tallest member of the team. He was a tall, lanky Irken with feet pointing inward, purple eyes and arms which mostly hung right down. He had spent the last two years as a shift guard in the storages of the barracks of the 337th Artillery Garrison at Kreba, and for some – the Queen knows – unknown reason, he had ended up with this top-secret team. He was more than useless, he was a liability. Laz had speculated that maybe Hog had something to do with Vor's 'promotion'.
Rax was the second tallest member of the team, and the only female. Given that the ratio of males to females in Irken society was eight to one, it meant that she actually was overrepresented. For ordinary losers like the members of the team, gender identity did not mean much – especially not since only the queens and the tallers were fertile.
Rax, however, was no ordinary loser. Despite being the youngest member of the team, she was already the most decorated. She had served in the Shadow Collective, a secretive group of hackers and programmers who worked with serial encryption and decryption for the State of Jyreh. Her speciality was identifying, separating and decrypting information sent through differing wave-lengths. She had busted eleven spies from three different neighbouring states, and that only during her first month of service.
She had green eyes, not uncommon amongst females, a comparably tall body with well-proportioned arms, and a head shaped a bit like an egg turned upside-down. Of course, she also had curled antennae. Which were standing in a manner indicating frustration.
All their eyes rested on Laz, as if he was guilty of the turmoil.
Laz wore a reddish coat with a hood. It had rudimentary cloaking technology through small nano-cells which changed their colour to fit into the background. He was a normally built Irken male with a grim facial expression. His other remarkable feature was a scar which leaped from the side of his head, over his left cheek almost down to his head. An unfortunate encounter when his rhemo had fallen into a nest of wasp rats three years ago. His eyes were dirt brown.
He was a tracker, a former corporal of the 9th Tracker Battalion of the State of Jyreh, and the last surviving member of that team. It was rumoured that this new generation of trackers were to be the last, as the cavalry units were going to be replaced with remote-controlled surveillance machines and stationary automated watch-posts.
He was the oldest person present, and he had survived five tours into the badlands, and of all the borders of Jyreh, he had served in the volatile eastern border, where the local Zorken colonies had sent out surveillance party after surveillance party to penetrate the Jyreh border. It had been the task of Laz and his comrades to eliminate these border incursions.
When he had visited Jarbz, Zasta, Zesyra and the other border colonies, it was impossible to not be showered with the relentless hatred against the Zorkens. Reports of Zorkens roasting Jyrehen smeets alive, public executions of 'Zorken spies' in beast pits, microwave or high pressure chamber and constant mantras of hatred…
Laz was not impressed. His hatred was pure, untainted, burning with the fire of simplicity. It was the hatred of survivalism, of the need to destroy what threatened his existence. The harsh nature of the Irk Wilderness had accustomed him to a grim outlook and difficult decisions – and the flaming cold fire which kept him alive during the scorching middays and the cold midnights of Irk was his hatred of the Zorkens.
This mission was different. They would not engage the Zorkens, but instead evade them. The goal was to find a (presumably) downed vootcopter with a peculiar wavelength radiation. And that within a perimeter of no less than three hundred square yz, cutting right through both frontlines and the area in between them.
The copter was just the first step. The next step was to verify whether the passengers were alive or dead, and then bring them to the zone capitol of Zesyra for verification. Laz could not have helped but think that it would have been a heck of a lot easier if they had been allowed to know the identity of the mysterious passengers…
Rax stood by the desk, her delicate fingers drumming on the surface of the desk.
"Status update, hacker!" Laz requested, still sitting on Vor's back.
IV
Rax smiled and leaned her head, triumphant and arrogant like a venom stalker, yet purring and affectionate like a smeet.
"I have deciphered twenty-one million four hundred thousand wave-length signals and that while three morons were nuking my radar with a defective microwave kitchen. I received electric signals, signals from animal colonies relying on electro-chemical radiation for communication, background noise from the Great Starry Void, electro-magnetic impulses from the interior of Irk, and millions of military signals, most from the emissions of radiation weaponry and remotely-controlled rockets, but also hundreds of thousands of military messages, spam and reports from the frontlines, often coded into complex folds of information stored in six-dimensional virtual encryptions sent on irregular pulsating wave-lengths of varying intensity."
Laz stood up from the heap. "And?" he asked.
"Our target is located inside sector 27, near the north-western hextant of the sector. In fact, its exact location is 27, 7,58x, 78,72y. At least, I picked up a very faint wavelength emission which corresponds to the signals received from that particular machine… from there! Commander!"
Laz thought for a few moments.
"Sector 27? North-western hextant? That's inside the Swamps of Crawling Doom... on the fringe of them, but yet inside."
The others had stood up. Hog gave a hopeful smile.
"Then maybe we'll have to abort this mission?" he inquired.
"No!" Laz cackled out. "No mutiny here! We are Jyrehen soldiers, and we will dive into the Crawling Doom without questioning!"
"It is suicide!" Wer remarked and lit another cigarette. "The Ground walker has too short legs, and is not equipped for humid environments. Certainly not humid environments emitting bubbles of poisonous gas! And I think everyone in this room," he threw a quick glance at Vor, "well, nearly everyone… are knowing about what kinds of nasty beasts are luring inside the Crawling Doom. And I'm sure none of you would like a meeting with them!"
"We should request air back-up," Rax proposed.
"Nooo!" Laz exclaimed. "Don't you remember what the colonel instruuucted!? No suspicious activity! You don't think several surveillance copters or even unmanned surveillance units the size of an itch would gain Zorken attention!?"
He blew out a deep breath of air.
"What's the status on military activity inside sector 27 7,58x, 78,72y?"
Rax turned towards Wer. "Can I have one?" she asked.
After she had lit the cigarette and inhaled, she turned towards her assigned superior. "The Zorkens have established three perimeters of air battalions in the eastern part of the swamps, while we have one patrol on the fringe of the south-west. There have been some aerial fighting between voot jets, but no major aerial offensives."
"The ground level then?" Laz asked.
Rax absent-mindedly dropped some greenish ash from the cigarette on the less than blank surface of the desk. "None whatsoever. The animals living there are emitting some pretty interesting signals, however. I have a sense it's the mating season."
"That settles it!" Laz croaked. "Let's dive into the swamps! Vor, you check so the surface is clear, the rest of you help me move the fridge!"
The tall Irken started to lurch towards the entry chamber with his usual simple-minded nonchalance.
Wer lit out his cigarette stump by scraping it against the desk, next to Rax's mark. Then he moved in a circle around Laz, never leaving the tracker with his gaze, his mouth open in a defiant expression.
"And," the mechanic began, "how should we get the walker into the swamp?"
Laz did not follow Wer with his face, just looking forward with as determined a look as he could muster. "We leave it at the rim of it. You've seen it. There's no reason for anyone to examine it more closely, so it'll be safe there."
Rax turned her face towards Laz. "And if someone checks closer on it?"
"No one will!" Laz decided. "But you make sure to disable the transmission wave emitter, so no one will do to us what you just did."
Wer ignited another cigarette, now with more frantic motions. "Tell me Laz, did I misinterpret you right?" he asked. "You just asked our navigator to hack the software of our own machine?"
Rax shrugged her shoulder. "It isn't like there is any way we can turn it off manually, Wer. Besides, the Zorkens don't know what they're looking for, or that they should look after us – but our superiors will get a hiccup when they see our dot disappear from the radar, and they'll probably switch to satellite monitoring then, but that's a mess right now with Zorken jamming, so they'll eventually send out a search party."
"You see, Wer, we'll get picked up!" Laz affirmed and nodded appreciatively towards Rax. At least one member of the team who was loyal and competent!"
A dull thud and a deep chuckling sound from the entry point signalled that Vor had returned. The sentry walked back, the hands in the pockets of his tunic and with a small smile on his lips.
"Status report soldier!?" Laz ordered.
Vor looked away a bit shyly. "Well, pretty calm through my periscope at least. I saw some gas fliers chew on a shrub, and the sky is reddish with black clouds. Oh, and that funny stone I saw yesterday…"
"Yes?" Laz inquired.
"It's still there. The status report is completely positive, sire! All hail Our… uh… Queen! Oh yeah!"
Vor made a clumsy Jyreh greeting, raising both his arms and waving with the three fingers.
Rax jumped up on the desk, fixating her gaze on Vor, who looked down.
"Anything else you can think of, Vor?" she asked very softly.
"Hmm… no, no, no, yes! There were these other guys, who looked very much like us. They were armed with laser rifles and wore carbon composite vests with tunics. They also wore helmets with those spookily glowing eyes."
"What colour?" Rax asked.
"Uh… what?" Vor wrinkled his forehead absent-mindedly, as his attention had moved towards a brown spot on the wall.
"What colour were they wearing?"
"Uh, yellow I think…"
"The Zorkens!" Laz called out.
"Damn!" Wer let out and trashed his cigarette against the wall. "Hey! Vor! Where did you see the guys? Vor!?"
Vor had walked out from the room and was now moving around seemingly without goals inside the corridor where the lockers for the mine engineers were. Rax had to shout on him to come back.
"Yes?" he asked slowly and innocently.
"Where did you see the guys in yellow uniforms, Vor?" Rax asked, not without a clear hint of irritation.
"They stood… uh… and talked with one another near the walker. Think one of them was smoking."
"Near the walker!?" Laz exclaimed.
Rax moved a few steps threateningly close to Vor. "Did they act as if they knew the walker wasn't a giant piece of rock, Vor? Think really hard now Vor, to see if you can remember?"
It almost looked like if Vor was in pain from all the thinking. He sunk down against the wall, looking all unfocused, a buzzing noise emanating from his mouth. At the end, Rax leaned down, repeating her question.
"One of them was sitting on the… uh… camouflage. I don't think they… uh… minded."
"Phew!" Laz wiped away the slime-like sweat from his forehead. "The mission is saved! Now we only have one thing to do to get started!"
"And what would that 'one thing' be?" Wer inquired.
Laz smirked satanically at him. "We'll kick their teeth out of course. And you will be delighted when I'll tell you're the first volunteer, Wer!"
The commander had moved out into the locker room, grabbed his laser rifle and was pointing it in a rather uncanny way against the rest of his team. Most of them were grateful that he hadn't volunteered them. Except Wer, whom he had volunteered.
And Vor. Who was crawling mindlessly on the floor, flooded with exhaustion from the previous exercise of his outmost mental capacity.