Earth Song: Etude to War (39 page)

Chapter 39

May 8th, 534 AE

T'Chillen Command Ship, Deep Space, Galactic Frontier

Singh-Apal Katoosh waited patiently in the meeting room for his guests, tail swishing slowly from side to side. Two females were coiled by a side entrance, heads held low, watching the Grand Admiral with concern.

They lived in fear of the males of their species at all times, and of the high ranking males they had only terror and dread. A low ranking male would not kill a useful female for no reason, especially one who carried out important technical or scientific duties.

A high ranking male, especially one above all but the great head of the T’Chillen itself? Well, they could do anything they wanted. And Singh-Apal Katoosh was known for his extraordinarily short temper.

“Where is there damned shuttle?” he hissed and spun to the pair of females.

They practically threw themselves flat on the floor, quivering in fear. Singh-Apal spat in frustration and gestured with a serpentine arm for them to rise enough to respond.

“Great Grand Admiral,” the senior of the two spoke, her hissing so quiet it was almost indiscernible over the sound of the ships atmosphere recycling system. “They docked a minute ago and should be here shortly.”

He didn't acknowledge but just turned to stare at one of the space’s holographic displays. He'd never been good at waiting. Climbing higher in the ranks had not helped. Luckily for his underlings, a chime announced the guests’ arrival. “Show them in,” he hissed.

The females left through the main exit and a moment later the door reopened. Of course, Singh-Apal's sensitive nose picked up the beings before he could actually see them.

As per the agreement there were three, which was fitting. Each of the giant furry beasts had three massive limbs and moved like a shellfish. Though unlike a crab, the legs each ended in massive claws and Singh-Apal knew they could render even a powerful T'Chillen warrior to pieces.

Even more disturbing was that these massively powerful things were not the Mok-Tok, themselves, but only part of them. Little was known except they were symbiotic. The brains of the pair lived inside, or on the thing he was looking at. It was a disconcerting combination of brain and brawn, because the Mok-Tok were among the most ingenious of the higher order species within the Concordia.

“We have come as requested,” a voice spoke from Singh-Apal's translator.

The T'Chillen Grand Admiral counted on the defensive measures in place and approached the massive Mok-Tok, proscribing a careful bow of his hooded head, eyestalks carefully watching them for any sign of treachery.

He knew that was unlikely. The Mok-Tok rarely endangered themselves personally. They preferred to let lesser species or bots do their fighting for them. “The T'Chillen acknowledge you. May we know to whom we speak?”

“It matters little, but I am squadron commander Ok-al-na.”

“And I am Grand Admiral Singh-Apal Katoosh, high leader of the T'Chillen.”

“Very well, proceed with the purpose of this meeting.”

Singh-Apal nodded to the female technician and one wall of the meeting room became transparent to show space outside. Even from hundreds of kilometers the shattered hulks of spaceships were discernible. Some even still shows plumes of outgassing or flashes of explosion. “We've defeated you again.”

“You have a point to make?” Such bluntness was common of the Mok-Tok. “There will be more battles, and you will not win them all.” As was arrogance.

“You surely know you are now facing new ships.” The Mok-Tok's physiology made it impossible to see their reactions. His own species had very few facial reactions, evolving from serpentine reptiles as they had. However the silence that met his comments spoke volumes.

“Yes. Now though, we also know you are using new ships as well.”

“We are listening.”

“I and the high command are willing to wager you have obtained this ships from the same source from which we obtained ours.”

“Our leaders consider the same possibilities.”

“Then speak it and we will consider.”

The reply was a single word. One Singh-Apal had never heard another species speak. “Grent.”

“Indeed,” he replied, “the Grent.”

“So now we both understand,” the Mok-Tok spoke. Singh-Apal made a dismissive gesture with his tail spike, forgetting the other species would not understand. “What you may not realize is that the Tanam have likewise been gifted.”

“The cats?” he spat. “They barely have enough ships to defend their holdings. If it were not for their tenacity in ground combat they would have long ago left the platform of a higher order species.”

“That as it may be the case, but it does not alter the facts.”

Singh-Apal considered for a moment. “And the Tog?”

“We have no evidence either way.”

“We are being manipulated by the Grent.”

“It is what they do.”

Singh-Apal cursed. “You are so uncaring that we are at each other’s throats as the result of a legendary species many thought gone?”

“You T'Chillen have short memories. We remember the last time the Grent were among us. They do this each time, turn species against each other for their own advantage.”

“Then why are we doing this?”

Two of the Mok-Tok shifted their positions but Singh-Apal did not know if it was any result of their conversation. That was when he realized there was no way of knowing which creature he was talking to. Or was it all of them? “Because if we do not accept their gifts, someone else will,” was finally their answer.

“So what is the result of this? We battle each other until there is a clear winner?”

“Perhaps.”

“And then what?” Silence stretched for long moments. “There could be an alternative.”

“We are listening.”

“The two most powerful spacefaring species are in this room. Very little stands between ourselves and control of everything. If we were to join forces...”

“The Mok-Tok and the T'Chillen together? To what end?”

The bitter end
, Singh-Apal thought. At least until a few other problems were dealt with. “I can see only a few threats to our controlling the entire Concordia.”

“Then what purpose the Concordia at all?”

“Species need some sort of government, a structure to live within. Especially the lesser species. With two powerful forces, the Mok-Tok and the T'Chillen at the reins of power, order can be returned and we can begin once again working to expand our own empires. These assets the Grent are providing can be located and made available constantly, and additional ones exploited.”

“What of the fleet of Lost ships you are hoarding?”

“We have never been able to access them.”

“With our help that may be possible.” Singh-Apal mused quietly. He was already going beyond his franchise as the Grand Admiral of the T'Chillen by even proposing an alliance. It was unlikely the high command would fall for such a proposal.

Of course, he controlled all the fleets. Would it be so difficult to simply take the council over, or replace it outright? The Mok-Tok were much better scientists than his own people. Maybe they could crack the problem of accessing the frustrating firebase control programming, and thus those incredibly powerful ancient starships.

“We would require seventy-five percent of the ships.”

“The Mok-Tok agree to give the T'Chillen fifty-fifty.”

Did this being even have the authority to bargain? Singh-Apal almost hissed a laugh. As if he did? “We could settle for seventy percent.”

* * *

The three Mok-Tok had been gone for half an hour and their smell still lingered. A rotting carpet of damp fur with a slight hint of feces. He wished he'd chosen a room farther from his office on the battlecruiser.

Bad enough he kept staring at the communication system nervously, afraid at any moment the Grent's voice would be coming from it, aware of what Singh-Apal had done behind its back. Or the ship would simply explode.

He'd heard of such things happening, in the dark recesses of history. He snorted and spat some venom on the floor. Legends told to scare hatchlings. But these legends spoke truth, sometimes.

Chapter 40

May 9th, 534 AE

Planet K, Contested Territory, Galactic Frontier

The breakout was a disaster from the opening shots. As soon as the Second Battalion spearhead slammed into the forward defensive elements of Leesa defending the portal spire a Mok-Tok company hit the Rangers in their left flank, and hit them hard.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Gregg yelled over the thunder of his CP being pounded by heavy beamcaster fire. Shock rifles cracked in ragged order, trying to suppress the incoming fire with little success.

The Mok-Tok took advantage of the massive brute force of their symbionts to move huge dualloy plates as shields to protect their weapons. The attack quickly stalled, and now his rear was in danger. It was looking like he wasn't going to find a way out. The small group of portals the scouts had found days ago now appeared to be the only option. They were heavily defended, but not like the portal spire.

“Commander,” called his CP communications lead, “we have an urgent contact request.”

What now, Gregg moaned inwardly. “Which unit?”

“Not a unit,” he said and patched it through to Gregg.

“…respond… I say again, Ranger First Division Actual, please respond.”

Gregg's jaw dropped. There was no mistaking Minu's voice over the radio. And there was no way she was here. Unless... “Ranger First Division Actual here. Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Stories later, old friend, the cavalry has arrived.”

Gregg shook his head in amazement.

“What are you facing down there?”

“Mok-Tok armored elements and an assload of Leesa.”

“Understood. Now upload the virtual battlefield, we don't have a lot of time.”

* * *

This is not a good idea
, Minu thought as she rode in darkness. All through her Chosen career she'd never feared against long odds. But this felt like borderline insanity. There were too many factors, too many unknowns, and she knew too little of what she was attempting. The only thing she was certain of was that if she didn't act immediately, Gregg's division was in danger of being completely wiped out.

Going against the shambling mounds was not something she looked forward to. Was humanity going to be forced to battle all the higher order species one after another? There weren’t many left.

“We're set, mother,” Lilith whispered through the implant.

“So are we,” Minu replied, then shifted to an audio radio frequency. “You're up, honey.”

“I'm on the record as considering this reckless at best,” her husband spoke to her. The stress was evident in his voice. Minu did her best to not let it show in her own.

“Noted. Now please proceed.”

* * *

The Leesa platoon leader watched through a virtual battlefield as the human lines firmed up. The intel provided by the Mok-Tok spoke of the hominids’ tactic of taking large losses to rescue compromised units. It was a ludicrous tactic against all standard conventions of war as dictated by ancient and tried Concordian teachings. Losses were to be expected in war. Why would you commit additional resources to rescue a unit that was lost anyway?

Using this weakness, the current strategy had been launched by his platoon. They'd isolated and cut off two squads of human warriors and were pounding them with heavy ballistic weapons. The enemy was holding with their shields and forcefields, for now.

The platoon leader and two others nearby were putting just enough force into their attack to make it appear as if the human squads were about to be overrun. Intel had just shown reinforcements on the way to help the trapped unit. At least a company in strength, they would arrive in minutes.

The Leesa hissed in anticipation. An entire battalion of his troops were secreted nearby. They'd moved into place over hours using abandoned underground transport and sewage tubes. A slaughter was in the offing.

Suddenly the humans stopped returning fire. Imaging showed they were diving under cover, hiding as best they could in the two blocks of partially demolished warehouses that was their defensive point. They must be low on ammo or power, the platoon leader thought and quickly sent the intel up the chain of command.

The higher command concurred and the attack was moved up. With coordination borne of long practice, a thousand Leesa emerged from cover with a hissing scream and rushed towards the hapless hominids… and died.

The sky lit with a series of blinding strikes linking the heavens to the ground. Where the light touched, everything ceased to exist and thousands of tons of debris were catapulted into the sky with deafening roars. It all took less than five seconds. Five seconds to decimate an entire battalion of warriors.

The platoon leader stood with his jaw hanging in utter horror at the tableau. Until a sensor hundreds of kilometers above noted his CP, and another lance of light reached out.

All across the landscape of the city beams of anti-matter charged particles lanced from orbit, each impact yielding nearly two kilotons of force. Targets were pinpoint and carefully chosen.

Large concentrations of enemy troops, heavy equipment, and two platoons of Mok-Tok tanks unlucky enough to have just emerged from an underground avenue. were all obliterated within seconds of each other..

The hairy Mok-Toks, masters of starships themselves, quickly realized the dire threat and withdrew from orbital observation. Some were still hit by coordinates called in by Ranger and Chosen forward observers.

The unfortunate Leesa had no idea why or how they were dying. Units that had been unobserved broke cover and attempted to flee behind the Mok-Tok line, only to become targets in seconds. The moment the orbital bombardment ceased, the shuttles came screaming in.

The four needle shaped shuttles lanced through the upper atmosphere at Mach 20, dropping to under five thousand meters then employing their powerful gravitic drives to break at hundreds of Gs more than any other craft would be capable of.

Still traveling three times the speed of sound, they streaked across the city raining death in crisscrossed patterns of energy weapons. The craft were controlled by an augmented mind many times more powerful than any biological pilot.

Before the Mok-Tok and Leesa realized that the nature of their deaths had changed, the shuttles were executing wide hypersonic turns and coming back for another pass. The fifth shuttle went almost unnoticed.

* * *

“Time on target,” Aaron called out, “five… four… three… two… one…
hack!
”

Minu braced herself against… nothing. She didn't even feel a shudder as she was dropped from the bottom of the Phoenix shuttle piloted by her husband at better than Mach 5. Encased in a dualloy shell, she possessed only what senses were imparted into the projector over her left eye from the tablet at her waist linked into the virtual battlefield.

A dozen dualloy shells were shed from the Phoenix as it executed its parabolic arc across the battlefield two kilometers high before angling back to low orbit.

Minu bit her lip and gave her faith to the engineering that went into the pod she was inside. A design mined from the depths of the Lost computer database aboard the Kaatan. A design created by engineers who had been long dead before her species learned to harness fire.

At one-kilometer altitude flaps opened around the outside of the shell, biting hard into the air to somewhat slow and stabilize the shell. The flaps tore away after just five seconds, as designed, spinning away to create a cloud of chaff around the shell.

Air friction brought it to just below Mach 2, then when it was only two hundred meters above the ground, the gravitic brakes kicked in.

Despite the compensators and strapping Minu cried out as she was slammed against the padded restraints that didn’t quite fit perfectly. The brakes burned out, dropping the shell below the speed of sound, and then the shell slammed into the ground at nearly four hundred kilometers per hour.

Minu shook her head as the aftereffects of the stasis field wore off. It had only functioned for a half second, during the actual impact with the ground as the shell crumpled to absorb the massive forces involved.

She didn’t want to think about what would have happened to her if the field hadn’t worked at precisely the correct moment. The last function of the shell was to verify she was awake and alert, and then explode.

Aaron had dropped the twelve shells right across the heaviest concentration of enemy troops near the portal spire. The Mok-Tok watched the shells scream in to slam into the ground without reacting, but the Leesa didn’t know what to make of the phenomenon. The first eight shells landed a few seconds before the last four, of which one contained Minu.

When the first one crashed in, a curious squad of Leesa soldiers raced over to investigate. Ten seconds after impact, the shells exploded.

Two kilos of high order explosives killed everything within dozens of meters and injured scores more from flying debris. The Mok-Tok watched on.

As soon as the shell around Minu blew outward she was instantly alert. It only took a couple seconds for high velocity projectiles to flash off her forcefields and remind her she was definitely in a combat zone. She lumbered free of the framework of the drop shell and stood upright for the first time. “Update virtual battlefield,” she ordered and the small AI went to work, synching with her three fellows who’d just been inserted into the midst of hell.

“Cherise, Kal’at, See’ta, report.”

“That was fucking insane,” Cherise said, her voice shaking, “but I’m okay and ready.”

“An intense ride,” Kal’at spoke, “I am ready too.”

“As am I,” See’ta spoke, the leader of the Rasa military squad. “Let us do this.”

Minu nodded as more rounds bounced off her shield and an energy beam sent swirls before her eyes. “Let’s see what these things can do!”