Naero's War: The Citation Series 2: The High Crusade (12 page)

A massive chain link of explosions rocked the ice shelf, annihilating most of the Ejjai battle group, even as it closed in.

Naero and Riel jumped on the black, enemy stealth ship–a unique design that Naero had never seen before.

“Riel, what kind of vessel is that?”

“My ship, which they captured and took from me. A Pelani spy ship. Very advanced.”

“Do you need any help subduing the Ejjai guards and crew?”

Riel snorted in disgust. “Not now that my will is my own. There are only a dozen or so of the scum left, and my collar is gone. They will pose no problem.”

Bravo Marines came out of the ship suddenly.

Sergeant Python Wilde spoke up. “The Ejjai on board have already been neutralized, N. Per your request, we’re leaving your new friend with a suit of the new and improved enemy phaze armor that we captured recently, as well as a small team of various fixers to assist her. This is a formidable vessel.”

“Good work, Sergeant. Get our people clear. Our new friend has somewhere important that she needs to be.”

“Yes, sir. Squad 3 and 3
rd
Platoon, with me. This way. Back to the dropship.”

Riel, champion of the Pelani shook her head. “I came here a slave, sent to slay you and all of your comrades. And yet you assist and help me so freely?” She quickly undid her belt with all of the buttons on it and handed it over to Naero. “That is my computer belt. It contains most of the technical knowledge of my ship and my people. I gladly share it with you and yours. Consider us allies now.”

Naero merely touched the Pelani computer belt and now it was her turn to gasp, as she and Om automatically teknomanced with its complex structure.

Naero. Haisha! Their tek is overtly Kexxian in nature.

She looked up at Riel. “You’re people knew the Kexx?”

Riel smiled. “And the Drians as well, from ages past when our rise to sentience began. They were our guardians, as they were yours. They protected many of the younger sentient races and species. It seems that we are all their children, and now we war against the same fearful powers which threatened all things back then.”

Naero threw her arms about her great an noble new friend.

Riel embraced Naero in return. “Thank you, Naero. My people and I thank you in high honor. I must go now, to do all that I can to free them from the oppression of our terrible foes. Good luck with your war here, N. I perceive now that we but fight the same evils in different places, you and I. If you or your people ever reach the Gamma Quadrant, we could use such allies as you. The battle which has been joined there is even greater than you could imagine.”

“Wait just a few minutes, Riel. I know you must go, yet I have more gifts to bestow upon you.”

Naero formed a mindlink, and then used biomancy to unlock Riel’s own third eye and awaken her own latent Cosmic Powers.

It took a few minutes.

Riel gasped, staggered back, and stared wide-eyed for a moment. She blinked and had trouble catching her breath. She nearly transformed into an energy being right before Naero’s eyes. The vertical right side of Riel’s face turned white, while the left half remained black.

“What have you done?” Riel exclaimed, staring at her glowing hands in awe. “All that I can see now–the enlightenment. It is astonishing.”

“I gave you nothing that you did not already possess. I have only awakened that which was already deep within you, Riel. Now you can begin to use those gifts, to help you and your people.”

Naero had sensed the Cosmic potential lurking deep within the Pelani champion. Those powers were mighty indeed.

“Is this real?” the Pelani asked in disbelief. “All that I am feeling, experiencing, and awakening within me. How can I ever thank you, my sister?”

“Go. Save your people. As I intend to save mine. And if we should meet again, let us indeed do so as sisters–and the mightiest of allies.”

Riel bowed and saluted Naero and her people. “All honor to you, brave Spacers. Thank you, once again.”

“Safe journey, mighty swordmaster Riel, champion of the Pelani. Fight well against our foes.”

“I shall. May we stand together once more, someday, my sister Naero of Clan Maeris. Though an entire galaxy of foes rises up between us.”

A minute later, the sleek Pelani spyship lifted off, heading up into the Suvanna-6 atmosphere. It cloaked and vanished, as the southern lights blazed high in the sky.

8

Silvion-9 was yet another hot stop on an invaded, Zotchan homeworld. Bravo command and 36 were there to break yet another enemy back, and free another invaded world.

There were still many worlds to free that desperately called for help.

And that was just on the Alliance side of the border. Many either forgot or chose to forget that enemy invaders also raged virtually unopposed on the Gigacorps side of the border.

Many Spacers and Alliance people ignored that fact. But Naero knew for certain that such attitudes were both unwise and unjust. Many claimed that the Corps worlds deserved their punishment at the hands of the Ejjai, because it was their governments who at first helped or allowed the Ejjai Invasion to be unleashed in the first place. Even the Corps hadn’t known that the invaders and their masters would betray them so thoroughly, and attack Corps worlds with just as much impunity and horror as they attacked Alliance worlds.

It became clear very quickly that the real enemies fully intended to vanquish all of humanity in the Alpha Quadrant, no matter who resisted and who did not. That no longer mattered. To the enemy, all humanity–Spacers, landers, and whomever else–were their foes.

And the road to enemy victory and eventual triumph over the humans was a sheer numbers game. The Ejjai had to conquer and defeat so many hundreds of worlds before they would become numerically and strategically unstoppable.

And that number was only in the hundreds.

After that, little else would matter.

If the enemy did not win those worlds on the Alliance side, they could still achieve victory by tallying enough defeated worlds on the disadvantaged Corps side.

Technically, the Corps by far had more worlds to defend. And that meant the invader tide could shift and spread over them. Continuing to refuse to help the Corps worlds, while the invader might still be contained and defeated, could yet turn out to be a huge and deadly mistake.

Each day that the invasion raged on, the enemy still grew stronger. And very little retribution would actually reach the governing heads of the Corps. It wasn’t many of their families who were at direct risk of the invader meatships. At least not yet.

It remained that the innocent civilians and helpless Corps slaves on multiple worlds, those with no choice in the matter, who would in fact pay the highest prices for the stupidity of their careless Corps leaders.

They always did.

Even with that stark realization, there was little that Naero herself could do beyond what she was already doing each day. She and Bravo 36 system-hopped as quickly as they were able. And most people knew that they were rapidly exhausting themselves.

But what choice did they have?

This was also a campaign of endurance. Everyone knew that extended fatigue would cost more Marine lives.

Like all of the other rapid response units, Naero and Bravo were being stretched and spread thin. They grabbed rest and food wherever they could.

But once more, what choice did the Spacer Alliance have?

Every hour that they chose not to fight, the relentless Ejjai hordes slaughtered millions of innocents. Bravo knew the odds, knew the risks, and chose to fight on. As one of the premier rapid deployment forces in all the known galaxy, and from the top on down, they chose to fight. And they took the fight to the enemy time and time again and put the invaders dead upon their backs.

Silvion-9 had been a key agro world in its region with wide swaths of prairie, grasslands, savannahs, and steppes in different climes. The weather had been modified to support large scale crop and livestock production. It had originally been transformed into a rich livestock world by the Corps, before becoming part of the Alliance during the Annexation War. Now it was known as a key producer of both crops and livestock.

Continuing in those roles, it had a population of only six hundred million, but it also possessed a huge wealth in almost every form and kind of cattle and livestock ever known to be profitable.

The Ejjai invaders sent twice as many meatships there, in an attempt to process all of that livestock for their war needs. They simply included humans, near-humans, and other sentients in with the rest.

Therefore, the major drawback for the defenders was that wherever they went, wherever they fought, they could not escape huge herds of panic-stricken livestock, and the massive quantities of uncollected manure and waste products that such large masses of creatures could produce on a daily basis. It quickly became a health hazard.

Fertilizer was also a major export of Silvion-9’s economy, after livestock and crops.

Shetanna and Bravo nicknamed Silvion-9 “Shitworld.” They laughed at first, but the jokes only lasted for about an hour for new arrivals.

After that, fighting, getting wounded, and dying in shit all around stopped being so hilariously funny.

Spacer noses and senses were keen, and the Marines suffered from the exposure. Most troops saw it as a toxic environment and elected to remain buttoned up in their combat armor suits, as if they were actually fighting a biohazard war on that planet.

With the increased chances of disease and infection running rampant, that was partly true.

Not only that, but there had been several dangerous and even lethal methane explosions–just another hazardous bi-product that added another threat to combat on such a world.

Clouds of methane could build up or sweep over contested areas by nothing else but prevailing winds, then explode and ignite fires. Fixers began monitoring the methane clouds and their buildup and movement. If the level reached the danger point, the fixers would trigger alarms and emit warnings. Flame stations and burn-off towers were set up in an attempt to burn off these flammable gases before they reached explosive and life-threatening concentrations.

Naero came across a Marine one day, gagging and choking, his filters rapidly clogging and cutting off his treated air supply. Another serious risk.

She quickly teknomanced the suit system and cleared it.

Corporal Scott looked up at her and smiled, true thanks in his eyes.

Naero smiled and he offered her his firm hand. Naero took it, up to the elbow.

“Thanks, N,” he nodded. “I was in a bad way there for a few seconds.”

“Sure thing, Scott. Glad to help.”

The corporal was less sour to her and others after that episode. Some better part in him seemed to kick in.

One day, Naero was still sleeping after a long night op. The next thing she knew, someone kicked her boots slightly where she had crashed.

That was warrior code for “Get your ass up, Marine. You’ve had enough shut-eye, Sleeping fucking beauty. Time for another op.”

That went for MCLs, too. It wasn’t always a wise thing to wake elite troops on the edge in a battle zone.

Had someone shaken or touched her anywhere else–say her head, shoulders, arms, or hands curled around a battle blade–Naero might have come up fast, ready to fight and even kill.

To frontline elite combat troops, a wake-up touch anywhere else but the boots or feet and ankles could mean that they were under attack. Jump up and be ready to fight.

As it was, Naero sat up, and had the nanocannisters in her sealed helmet gently mist and flush out her eyes. But even with her stealth suit sealed, she could still smell Shitworld, and groaned at its filtered reek.

She only imagined how bad it would be if she opened wide and sucked in a deep breath.

There was one tactical advantage: the reek also played holy hell and havoc with the keen Ejjai sense of smell. The invader would be hampered and messed up even worse by the smell.

Despite the fact that the Ejjai lived in crap and filth. They even ate crap, in a pinch. Rotting carrion was a delicacy to them–their favorite food–but they could still stomach offal and dung as part of their diet. Eating it didn’t bother them. Smelling it all did. Go figure.

Naero had slept so hard, she still couldn’t believe that it was night again.

The sitrep for that enchanted evening called for Bravo 36 to coordinate with a planned, mass assault on two complete invader battle groups. In doing so, they would attack and take out more than twenty enemy meatships, that had worked night and day to process both animals and people, all lumped in together.

Leftenant Anaconda Wilde went over their precautions and protocols for the op. “This is going to be another close-up fight, Marines. The Navy can’t hit these sites from orbit because there are too many civies and local ground units still caught up in all the fun. Yeah, I know. Expect a real mess.

“Make sure of your targets. Don’t pop any locals in the black, and more importantly–don’t let them pop you. The rest of the sitrep’s pretty clear and self-explanatory, for those of you goons who can read. Mark and coordinate the objective protocols and timing calcs in your battlecomps. Load up, check your gear, and take your positions on the line, Bravo. People, don’t forget to flush your filters out to avoid clogs at the worst time. Do it now.”

Command directed them flawlessly and wove them into position with the other units in the combined ops that night.

Enemy positions, targets, and objectives lit up on their displays and scrolled with each turn of their heads, in order of priority. Their primary targets were selected and locked.

Leftenant Wilde cut in again. “Go hot, 36. I say again: go hot, my dark children. Mark. Fifteen seconds. Begin the assault and fire on Command signal. Follow your directive targeting feeds and scans thereafter as the op flexes and shifts. Good hunting, 36!”

Overlapping waves of direct fire erupted out of nowhere.

Half of the enemy targets across the line for many kilometers in either direction, along several tiers, withered and collapsed, obliterated by the stunning Spacer Marine combined arms assault.

Naero was already several minutes ahead of her profiling schedule, using her Mystic-trained speed to enhance and quicken her attacks. She finished taking the head off the last Ejjai gravtank commander on her array profile–all of her primary targets down as she flashed among them, swords blazing.

The ghost warriors of 36 came right in behind her like an invisible tide of death. They neutralized an entire forward enemy armored regiment in seconds.

Then Naero’s sense of warning went wild, even as she and 36 shot up into the air, cloaked and on gravwings. The enemy gravtanks cooked off below them without warning.

Their new targets came up all around them.

The armored regiment had only served as the bait to lure them in.

Om called out to her, adjusting the fixer arrays to give her and the Marines advance warning.
Naero, look out. Several hundred enemy stealth troops, converging all along this portion of our front lines. It’s a counterattack with heavy weapons and explosives. Converting scans to these patterns and frequencies. They’re almost on top of us.

Om, light this up for 36 and Command. “36! Hit the enemy counter-assault forming above us. Flip up and proceed to these positions above and around them and commence attack!”

36 broke, reformed, and struck the enemy as the Ejjai dropped grenades and bombs on where the Marines had just been.

Bravo endured heavy direct fire and regrouped their assault patterns in response, targeting arrays shrieking and scrambling to adjust.

But the Marines shot out of harm’s way just in time, and spread out the counterattack in order to thin it out and overextend it. Then Bravo pounced again on the new arrivals.

36 unleashed everything they had on the enemy attackers, despite being outnumbered at that juncture seven-to-one or more.

At least their efforts stalled and confused the exposed enemy numbers and positions, painting and lighting them up on the combat grid.

Then 36 swept away on another vector, on direct orders from Command, with the enemy in hot pursuit.

Swaths of Marine starfighters swung down so fast that they passed by in a blink. Yet they took out most of the enemy stealth troops with coordinated air bursts.

Something they could not have done with Bravo in the way.

Direct fire hunted down and eliminated the rest of the enemy for the time being, and the front line of battle crept forward.

“Good work, sir,” Anaconda said to Naero. “Those late arrivals from the slashers could have really crashed our party and messed us up.”

“Thanks, Ana. Hey, I thought I told you to drop that ‘sir’ stuff when the brass aren’t around.”

Ana laughed as they were directed forward to their next target. “Sorry, N. Old habits. Left, on our left, 36! 3
rd
Platoon, watch our right. 4
th
Platoon, protect our six.”

“Enemy units advancing to plug up some of the holes we’ve made. Targets coming online. That’s a lot of them. Stock up and fire!”

Four to five hours later, all twenty invader meatships were accounted for and on fire. Local troops marched in to clean up.

Back at their base on their armored and shielded dropship, Naero sat relaxing with her mates in the protected rear, taking another breather and preparing to grab some more rest.