Two
Live-fire training base
Planet Val-kyre
6 August 2017
Five days of working around the clock to modify the starship Eternia's compliment of four dropships finally paid off. The original version of the powerful craft had utilized a boarding ramp for an armored personnel carrier (APC). The bay had been modified to accommodate an assault vehicle using a triangular wheel hub design for crossing most types of terrain, rocket pods on the top, and internal missile bays. In addition, the vehicle could transport half a platoon into battle with full gear. To accommodate it, the ramp was replaced with layered doors that would slide down from the sides and fold up underneath. Mechanical grapplers would swing down from within the bay, latch in to the wheel hubs and lift the carrier up into the bay. All those alterations had to be reversed so that the new gift from the Queen Mother could be properly deployed.
That gift was four of the new Shrike assault APC. Capable of comfortably transporting an entire platoon of twenty-eight soldiers plus any ordinance and supplies required for the mission, the Shrike was the latest in a long line of war machines. It came equipped with all manner of surveillance gear, remotely operated planes, a pair of Gatling guns mounted on top in a remotely operated turret, rocket launchers with internal magazines, solid rubber tires and a suspension system offering a nearly smooth ride over rough terrain. Best of all, the machine fit comfortably in the massive dropship's bay without any modifications to the airframe or bay.
Colonel Markson and the four platoons under his command couldn't stop drooling over the machines. They familiarized themselves with the operation of the vehicles, running them through their paces while developing the operating procedures to use the Shrike to it the fullest extent of its capabilities.
Everyone was impressed with the ruggedness of the Shrike. Stories were told of Horde forces repeatedly blasting lone machines in a hail of plasma blaster fire. One particular tale involved an assault carrier getting stuck behind enemy lines. Alone and separated from the main assault force, the crew set course back toward their lines, and headed out. The comm array had been damaged so they couldn't call for help. It wasn't long before a Horde scout plane found the carrier and vectored in the ground forces. The Shrike's armor shrugged off each assault as the crew hunkered down and ran for home. The twin Gatling cannons had been reduced to firing only in the forward position because the initial Horde strike damaged the turret traverse mechanism.
Several attackers made the mistake of overshooting the fleeing Shrike and drifted into its forward firing arc. The Val-kyrie made each and every Horde vehicle pay dearly for their mistakes.
After nearly thirty harrowing minutes of running at top speed, friendly forces got word of their lone sisters fighting for survival and to the rescue in force.
The Horde pursuit force broke contact at that point and ran for home.
Once safely back at base, the vehicle commander tried to tally how many hits the Shrike had taken. She quickly gave up because the plasma bolts shot at the carrier had so thoroughly melted the armor plate that it impossible even to guess at how many hits the machine had weathered without a breach.
For five days, the mixed crews from the starship Eternia and Commander Harana's test base techs prepared the Earth dropships and Shrike carriers for the ultimate test; a combat drop of all four platoons from the Eternia and a ground assault on a base built solely for the purpose of perfecting ground combat seek-locate-destroy missions.
Just before dawn, the starship Eternia taxied to the end of the Pretoria training and research base's longest runway in preparation for takeoff. Permission was granted, and Ace throttled up the sublight engines. The starship roared down the runway achieving takeoff speed at just over one-third its length, Lieutenant McCloud lifting the ship just enough to get the landing struts retracted. At the end of the runway, Ace throttled up to full power, pointed the nose for the stars and blasted off in a near vertical climb. Trailing cones of red-orange fire and smoke trails, the starship easily reached the upper atmosphere where the engines switched over to vacuum operation. Blue-white fire erupted from the three nozzles giving the starship the added thrust needed to make orbit and beyond.
"Ensign Comorov, plot a standard orbit over the northern hemisphere," Captain Majourny ordered. She was pleased with the operation of her ship and crew; for once, everything was functioning perfectly. There had been constant gremlins ever since the ship had been completely rebuilt after arriving in Earth's solar system. The Val-kyrie techs really knew how to chase down problems and fix them.
"Plotted and ready," the young navigator announced.
Jo-jo touched a control on the left-hand control panel to open the standby channel to orbital control. "Orbital control, this is the Eternia requesting permission to assume standard orbit."
The officer on duty responded immediately. "Permission granted. A weather system is moving in on the target area, but conditions are within safety margins. Assume standard orbit and begin mission at your digression. Good hunting. Orbital control out."
"Eternia acknowledges. Out." Jo-jo swung around to her left.
Colonel Markson had come onto the bridge during the talk with orbital control. "All set?"
"Whenever you're ready. We're just your taxi service his time." The woman sounded disappointed.
"Don't worry," the colonel said with a grin. "I'm sure you'll get to kill something on the next mission."
"Unless something goes terribly wrong and I end up having to break in a new commander," Jo-jo replied. "If you do screw up, get it all on film to review later. The movie rights along would be worth a fortune."
The colonel's face fell. "That's cold, lady. At least we'll be having fun while you are stuck up here circling the wagons. Give it a couple orbits then set off the alert." He left the bridge without another word.
"If he wasn't so good at his job I could really get to dislike him," Jo-jo muttered.
Lieutenant Harvey Denton spoke up from the tactical station behind to the right of the command chair. "Sounds like love to me."
Jo-jo swung around on him. "I hear there's an opening in Delta Platoon. You volunteering to fill the void?" The lieutenant hastily shook his head. "All right, then. Let's circle the wagons and enjoy the show."
Eternia made three orbits.
All the platoons had been settling in and starting to relax a bit when it looked like the balloon wasn't going up right away. Unsurprisingly, that's when the klaxon went off. People scrambled from the barracks set on the port and starboard sides of the ship. The ready rooms and galley emptied in seconds. Everyone gathered at the front of the drop bay.
Colonel Markson waited for everyone to get into place before signaling for silence. "The balloon has just gone up. Two hours ago a military installation on the northern continent went silent. A team was sent in to investigate and all contact was lost shortly after they arrived. Our mission is go down to the planet, find out what happened and take whatever actions are deemed necessary." And possible, he added silently. "Because of the size of the base we will be deploying all four platoons."
"Sir," a private near the front raised his hand.
"What is it, private?"
"Is this going to be a standup fight or a bug hunt?"
Markson grinned evilly. "I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count."
"It's a bug hunt," Corporal Frost spoke up from behind the kid. "Size and nature of the enemy?"
"Unknown on both accounts. All transmissions from the base were cut off abruptly so we have no idea what to expect." The colonel continued by issuing the deployment orders and how they would approach the base. Since the weapons and dropships had already been prepped before taking off from the planet, he gave the platoons two hours to double check the weapons and vehicles before the drop. There were a few groans at that, but the platoon sergeants quickly clamped down on the discord.
With no other questions, Colonel Markson dismissed his command to get to work.
At T-minus thirty minutes to drop, the platoons filed into their assigned locker rooms at the forward end of the drop bay to suit up. The usual rounds of banter ensued as the soldiers put on their armor, checking each other for loose or damaged harnesses and bragging about how they would do in the coming op.
The normal weaponry – M50 pulse rifles, M300 sniper rifles and M120 heavy assault machine guns – was replaced with the older M30 pulse rifles. The M30 was specifically designed to handle ballistic ammunition designed to bruise, not kill. As it happened, the M30 could chamber the munitions the Val-kyrie used on their train ops: It was a caseless round with an explosive tip that delivered a non-lethal electric jolt. It stung like hell, could knock a person unconscious if enough struck, but did not kill unless the unlucky soul had some sort of medical condition like a weak heart. M30 rifles were handed out as the platoon sergeants hollered for everyone to get out to the ready lines beside their assigned dropships and Shrike assault carriers.
The drop bay reverberated with the sounds of shouted commands, idling dropship engines, and booting feet slapping the metal deck. All platoons filed into the assault carriers, took up their assigned seating and strapped in for drop. The Shrike drivers backed up the newly installed ramps, which raised and locked.
Up on the bridge, Capitan Majourny watched the action in the drop bay on a monitor set in the left-hand control station. The dropship pilots retracted the quad landing struts as the thick inner bay door beneath them opened. Once the idling ships came to rest on the reinforced panels that would release them, the hydraulic arms unlocked and rose back into the ceiling. Outer doors swung open to reveal a limited, but no less breathtaking, view of the planet revolving below.
Jo-jo tried to suppress a grin as she touched a switch on the right-hand control station to activate a delayed program. "Let's see what they do with this."
The numbers continued to run down as Ace kept the Eternia on course for the drop window. Ace informed the dropship pilots when they had one minute to release. Everyone tensed up at this point. While the technology had been perfected, accidents could still happen. The panels that released the ships could malfunction, lodging a craft in the bay. The Eternia could be too close to the upper atmosphere where air currents could throw the dropships off course. The release sequencing could be mistimed leaving the ships too close to one another. The pilots chose not to dwell on what might go wrong and concentrated instead on having a perfect release.
At T-minus thirty seconds, the auto-release alarmed sounded.
"Auto-release sequencer failure," Ace called out. "Switch to manual release. Release on my mark."
That got the blood pumping. This was where things could really go wrong, but Ace and the other pilots had practiced this countless times. The drops went off without any more errors. Ace called out the release points perfectly via the bridge computer. As the Eternia soared away in orbit, he studied the graphic on his main monitor depicting the downward course of the dropships. All four were well within the margin for error. In fact, all the craft were within only one degree when the margin allowed for a plus/minus three degrees. His best drop yet.
Seeing that everything was going according to plan, Jo-jo relinquished her seat to Lieutenant Denton. "Nice work, Ace. Thought I was finally going to get you on that one."
"Keep trying, Captain."
"Watch the ego, Lieutenant," Jo-jo said sweetly. "While computer models say error hardly ever happen in less than the thirty second mark, that doesn't mean I won't throw one in."
After the captain as gone, and Denton safely relocated to the Captain's chair, Harley said to Ace, "When are you going to learn to just take a compliment?"
Ace swiveled his chair around. "The only reason she hasn't done it is because Feral's pilots and I routinely practice that. We have a full four-ship safe release timed down to fifteen seconds. We once made it in ten, but haven't been able to repeat it."
Denton frowned. "What's so special about that?"
At Ace's encouraging look, Ensign Comorov answered. "The manual states aborting the drop if a release sequencer fail alert sounds at any time under T-minus thirty seconds."
"In short," Ace added, grinning, "the captain will not allow a drop like that unless the failure happens on a combat mission. So we content ourselves with simulator runs only."
"Then she knows all about this."
"Sir," Comorov pointed out, over his shoulder, "Keptin Majourny helped us develop the procedure in the unlikely event we ever had to actually do it."
Denton sat back, too stunned to comment.
The drop went relatively smoothly. There was a weather system in the target area that made for a bumpy ride, but the dropship squadron made it through with no problem. The biggest issue was learning to fly with the increased weight of the Shrike in the drop bay. It weighed roughly thirty percent greater than the old APC, but it was still within the dropship's rated carrying capacity.
Colonel Markson divided his force up to approach the base from four sides. The drops were made about five kilometers away while Lieutenant Feril continued on to the target. The other platoons were to hold until word was given to approach their assigned sections and begin the search,
Feril could barely see through the rain-streaked windscreen as she approached the apparently dead base. She flew around the perimeter at fifty feet above the tallest building. The camera feeds to the Shrike presented a much clearer picture, but the information gathered was not much beyond the fact that the basic structures were intact, and the power was still on; as evidenced by the occasional external lights.
After three passes, Colonel Markson ordered Feril to drop them on the landing grid and called in the other platoons to begin the recon of their assigned sectors of the massive base. Feril set down long enough for the Shrike to roar out of the bay, then took off to join the other ships orbiting the base with weapons pods deployed.
The driver slowed to a halt fifty yards from the command building. The doors on the right popped out and slid apart. Troopers were deploying the instant there was enough room to get out. They fanned out by squads to cover one another and the building. Apone scanned the surroundings with electro-binoculars unmindful of the driving rain.
Nothing moved anywhere within sight. Although the lights were on in certain windows, there was no sign of life anywhere. Apone ordered First Squad to move up with Second Squad covering the advance.
The control panel for the front door was dead, but a quick bypass solved that problem. Apone led the way in while Second Squad moved up to flank the outside. Within another minute, both teams were inside the structure.
Inside was a scene of utter devastation. Overhead lights flickered here and there, structural damage decorated the walls, floor, and ceiling, forcing the soldiers to weave their way through a maze of wiring, twisted metal scrap, and dangerous pits in the floor.
Colonel Markson watched everything on a bank of monitors in the Shrike via the helmet cameras everyone wore. He didn't like what he was seeing and badly wanted to be in there with his people instead being stuck out in the Shrike. Leading from the rear was not Colonel Markson's style, but his people knew their jobs and were very good at it.
"Trackers online. Quarter in search by twos," Markson ordered.
The motion trackers were the latest design; powerful, compact and more precise than the models in use six months ago. Apone snapped his fingers for attention, then waved the people off in assigned pairs. He and Frost continued down the main corridor weaving their way around the damage from a fierce running battle.
It took over fifteen minutes to search the two levels of the complex. Nothing. No blood. No bodies. Not a soul about. The soldiers felt the weight of the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on them.
"Second squad, what's your status?" Apone requested.
The corporal running the squad reported immediately. "We just finished our sweep. Nobody home."
"Right. Sir, this place is dead. Whatever happened it looks like we missed it," Apone said to the colonel.
"All right. Secure the medical lab and operations. I'm coming in."
Frost met up with Colonel Markson at the main entrance. "Sir, First Squad in just outside the med lab. Second Squad cleared operations and Private O'Rourke is trying to activate the computer system."
"Any bodies?" Markson asked, taking point.
"No, sir. Must have been a helluva fight judging by all the damage."
"Yeah. Looks that way," Markson said, absently.
The pair joined First Squad outside the med lab. Apone had gone on to the operations center with Second Squad, so Markson took charge of searching the lab.
The main hatch was jammed partially open. The soldiers had to squeeze through one at a time, a tight fit for people in full battle armor. There was less damage here, but it was clear some fighting had been visited upon the place. Bypassing an aisle of locked cupboards due to a six-foot bank of lights dangling from a power cable, they regrouped on the far side near the left section containing rows of biobeds. Most of the soldiers walked on by after a cursory look inside, but Frost lingered for a better look. His eyes focused on a bed about seven spaces down the right side.
Frost suddenly grasped what he was looking at. He called out to the colonel several times, starting in a low voice, finally having to practically shout the colonel's name to get his attention. An angry Colonel Markson marched back to glare at the corporal. "I think we have a live one," Frost explained, stepping on the bay.
Markson's glare followed the young man. It softened considerably when his eye full upon the figure laying on the bed. Although the lighting in chamber was set for a simulated night, he recognized who they had found once he got close enough.
Princess Anyssa, daughter of the Queen Mother.
The monitor above the bed on the wall indicated low but steady readings. She appeared to be sleeping. Her armor was dirty with a scorch mark here and there. An ugly bruise marred her left cheek.
"Stay with her," Markson said to Frost. "I'll send Lieutenant Smith to check her out. Let me know the instant she wakes up. Right now, she's the only one who can tell us what the hell happened here."
"Yes, sir," Frost managed to get out around the lump in his throat.
"Status," the colonel demanded upon entering the operations center. This was one of the few places that hadn't been damaged. Odd. This would have been one of the first places taken out, if he had been planning the attack.
Catherine O'Rouke, the platoon's techie, was working diligently at the main computer console trying to coax it into giving up its secrets. So far, no success. She got the power reconnected with a few bypasses, managed to get surveillance and communications back online, but the records of the battle could not be retrieved. She suspected that those records might be on damaged portions of the core.
Apone walked up to the colonel to make his report. "This section of the complex is as secure as we can make it. There are still the sublevels to search. Right now I have guards on those access points. The other platoons are starting to report in. So far, they have found a few bodies, extensive damage, but no signs of who did this or why."
Markson nodded, head bowed in thought. He relayed orders through the Shrikes to the respective platoons to begin searching the sublevels in their quadrants. Something was odd about this whole situation, but Markson couldn't quite wrap his brain around it. Something familiar. Unable to resolve his issue with the current status of the base, Markson returned his attention to the bank of security monitors that suddenly flared to life.
It wasn't long before they spotted Delta platoon making its way into the sublevels in the southeast corner of the base. Lighting was bad there, as with everywhere else on the installation, so they had to rely on relays from the platoon's Shrike for information on what they were seeing.
With the bank of twenty displays broken up into sections monitoring the progress of the other platoons, Colonel Markson settled in for a long wait.
Captain Majourny prowled the corridors of her starship as it soared in stationary orbit over the base. After twenty minutes of checking departments, looking in on equipment trunks she rarely visited, and generally gauging how her crew was doing, Jo-jo found herself outside a particular hatch just forward of the platoon locker areas. Glancing left and right to be sure no one would see, the captain punched the control panel and slipped quickly inside.
This was the primary situation room used for coordinating operations between the deployed platoons and the starship. Under normal circumstances, that is. Today, the room was occupied by three others who briefly glanced her way before returning their attention to the monitors.
"How's it going? Anyone figure out what's going on yet?" Jo-jo asked, settling into a vacant chair.
"Not yet," Queen Mother Silvara replied. "Although that corporal my daughter has taken an interest in appears to be forming an opinion."
"And the colonel?"
"If he is wise to what he's up against, he isn't showing it," General Hammond replied.
"They'll find out soon enough," Commander Harana said. "Looks like Delta is about to get a rude welcome."
Jo-jo was feeling a little more relaxed now that the operation was underway. Sneaking the Queen Mother and the commander on board with no one being the wiser had been problematic. It required split-second timing when the crew was engrossed in prelaunch preparations, and the platoons checking over their equipment for the training mission.
"I hope she performs better than yesterday," Jo-jo commented, not voicing the name of the person in question. "I heard she is still having issues."
Silvara nodded. "She quickly worked through it courtesy of my warriors."
"You never did say how the mission ended," Hammond reminded her.
"No. I didn't." The Queen Mother absently rubbed the bruise on her left cheek.
Everyone's attention was diverted back to the monitors.
The attack had begun.
Frost paced anxiously around the med bay while Lieutenant Smith evaluated the unconscious princess. He still couldn't wrap his brain around that fact. The girl was nothing like all the fantasy tales on Earth depicted a princess should be. Frost thought Anyssa was more a warrior princess like Xena than anything Disney could have dreamed up.
He tried to stay out of the way as the lieutenant fussed over the girl. Frost concentrated on the scorch marks on Anyssa's armor. Some appeared to be burns from plasma discharges. Other were repairs painted over. He had seen similar marks before, but where he'd seen them eluded him. One thing was certain, he did not like the conclusions the indications were leading to.
L-T Smith finally straightened and issued her report. "All the indicators say she's asleep. I don't see an injuries despite the visual evidence on the armor. I'm not as familiar with this equipment as I would like, so I can't say what her mental state is."
"Thanks, L-T."
Not long after the lieutenant had left, Anyssa began to stir. Frost quickly moved to her side. The girl's eyes snapped open. Her eyes darted around for a panicky few seconds until they settled on Frost. Her left hand snapped up to grab the top of his chest plate and savagely yanked him down close. Her lips stuttered as she struggled to speak. Frost tried to calm the girl down, but she refused to listen.
"You…must…b-be…careful," Anyssa struggled to speak. It was agony for her to get each word out, but she had to warn them.
"Anyssa, who did this?"
"It…was…t-t-them," Anyssa gasped.
Frost's brow furrowed. Why would she be thinking of the movie they had watched a couple nights ago? "You're saying giant ants did this?"
Anyssa collapsed back on to the bed. "NO! Not…ants…you-you…male." She stuttered when she was trying to be nice about her insults. Her female-dominated society was slowing changing their prejudicial views about males, but it didn't take much to backslide into that way of thinking. "It was them."
Frost listened intently as Anyssa struggled to explain. He had to lean close as her voice failed. He wished he hadn't as the picture of what they were facing became clear. A cold mass settled in the pit of his stomach, and he had fight the urge to throw up as it dawned on him what had happened here – and who was responsible.
It happened slowly. Stragglers were picked off one by one by something they could not see. Infrared imaging sensors the soldiers could flip down from inside their helmets didn't show anything. Motion trackers were more effective, but by the time the enemy struck, it was too late. Delta survivors tightened up their formation to better watch one another's backs.
It didn't help all that much.
Colonel Markson watched the monitors helplessly as Delta continued to be picked off one by one. There were glimpses of the assailant, but the images were not enough for an identification. Other reports started coming in from the Shrikes that they under attack. All of them simultaneously. Their loss severely hindered the colonel's ability to coordinate movements with the other platoons.
O'Rourke was still trying to tap into the base's com system in order to get a signal up to the Eternia. Apparently, there was a lot of damage to reroute around in order to get it up and running.
Delta platoon fell within ten minutes of first contact with the as yet unseen enemy. Some technical wizardry by O'Rourke got their own com channels integrated into the base system. If anyone was still alive out there, any transmissions would now be picked up.
Work on the base systems was just being completed when a garbled transmission break in over the speakers.
"Corporal… Sub… Section 13… It was…" the rest was lost in static and what sounded like groans in pain.
Markson keyed the nearest com panel as all activity quieted. "This is Colonel Markson. Repeat your transmission." He snapped his fingers at the people manning the surveillance monitors. The privates bent to the task of trying to find the person on any functioning camera.
More static and few grunts on pain. "Corporal Jones, sir. They're gone. They're all gone!" The kid sounded borderline hysterical.
"Calm down, son. Tell me where you are and who hit you." Markson's eyes were drawn to a bank of screens when a private signaled for his attention. The lighting was bad, but he could make out the form of Corporal Jones crawling away from the nearest camera. He appeared to be trying to make his way back to the nearest stairwell back out of the sub section.
"Sub level 3, section 13."
"Jesus," Apone hissed beside the colonel.
An apparition had appeared at the near end on the monitor. That placed the enemy behind the injured corporal. All they could see was a black mass moving in deeper darkness.
"Get out of there. It's right behind you! MOVE!" Markson commanded, knowing it was already too late.
In the background of the kid groans and grunts, they could hear the unmistakable sounds of something walking almost leisurely up from behind. It sounded strangely familiar somehow.
"Get it, Colonel. Don't let it escape."
"What, Jones? Don't let what escape?" Markson demanded, watching the inevitable unfold on the monitor. The black shape almost totally blocked out the crawling figure. The kid was still several yards away from the view of the next camera in line.
Moments before the surveillance system on sub level 3 shorted out from a powerful EM burst, Corporal Jones managed to obey the colonel's demand.
"There's a Guardian down here!"
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