“Right,” Lowantha said with a sigh. “That story is as old as time. King this, supreme ruler that, queen of whatever…people’s representatives and the will of the people, suppression, oppression, lies, deceit, blah blah blah.”
“You mock our queen and our system of governance?” Zikorah asked, confused by Lowantha’s statement.
“Nevermind,” Lowantha said. “It’s not important. What is important is the credit.” He pulled out his personal comp and checked the account the credit was to be transferred to. “Until I see the rest of the credit, you get nothing.”
“Depending on the information, you will receive the remainder of your fee; it may be of no use to me,” Zikorah said, defiantly crossing his upper limbs.
“See you,” Lowantha said and hopped off the rock and turned to walk the opposite direction from which the Bleeve came.
“Fine,” Zikorah called out. “I will transfer the rest now. Your arrogance astounds me. You are here on my planet, and whatever backup you may have in place surely cannot be enough to keep you alive, should I give the command.”
“Yeah, I might not survive if this deal goes bad,” admitted Lowantha as he turned back, “but I can guarantee you will not.”
Zikorah stared at Lowantha, the expression unreadable in the multiple eyes or on the alien’s face. After a moment he looked down, pulled a small slate from a pouch on his harness, and entered commands. Lowantha looked back at his own device and saw the transaction was complete.
“That’s better.” He grinned. “I just forwarded you my full report. Here’s the short form: I went to the Nazrooth system, spent some time on the planet, and checked it out. It’s true, they are still pacifists. When they sold off their ships over a hundred years ago, they also dispensed with their planetary forces and defenses. In the three cities I visited, there was hardly any law enforcement to speak of. A few individuals are designated as dispute solvers by their government in every major city. Most stuff is handled by their local meditation specialists. It’s kind of sick, if you ask me. Everybody is so polite to each other. It doesn’t seem natural.
“Anyway,” he continued, “they don’t have defensive platforms, gate security, or anything. I contacted a pirate king I knew from other dealings, a Nullgrip and his tribe, and put the information in his ear like you asked me to do. They moved in and shook things up, and were squeezing credit out of the traders and cargo ships pretty easily.”
“What do you mean, were?” Zikorah asked. “Neither I nor any of my department have been following the happenings in their system so our plan would not leak in any fashion. What has transpired? We were to be the force that defeated the pirates, be welcomed, and with ships in place, take the system with ease.”
“I mean ‘were’ because that damn Harmon Tomeral and his forces from Salvage System came in and wiped the pirates out with little effort,” Lowantha said, the agitation in his voice easily detected. “It only took one of his task forces and a fighter carrier. They left the system after they destroyed the pirates with advice to the Nazrooth to hire mercenaries for defense.
“The Nazrooth took the advice and hired a company. The last of the Salvage ships left it to them after handing off the defense. The contract was for six months, and the Nazrooth decided not to renew it after nothing else happened. They’re gone now, and the system is still ripe for the taking, but you’ll need to use another plan.”
“Salvage System?” Zikorah asked. “The one from that video? It does not matter. We will send in more than thirty ships. And we will put ten thousand or more on the surface. You have provided what I need. If a small pirate fleet can insert themselves into the system, we can as well.”
“Look,” Lowantha said. “I hate the guy for various reasons, but I’m telling you, if you go through with this plan, you better make sure no one escapes to tell him until you’re seriously entrenched. If he decides to intervene before that, it could be bad for you. Trust me. I’ve seen firsthand what those ships can do.”
“Nonsense,” Zikorah said and waved the statement off. “That video was obviously selected editing. We have entertainment shows like that here on this planet. A favorite of mine comes from Earth. I have seen every episode of The Four Horsemen Universe at least three times. The next season starts in less than four spins of the planet, and I will be clinging to the wall watching with my young ones.”
“Why do you want the Nazrooth System, anyway?” Lowantha asked, always looking for information. “There are other systems closer to yours, a few small colonies, even.”
“Small colonies sometimes attract the attention of the Bith,” Zikorah explained. “One never knows when they will hire mercenaries to rid a new colony of invaders. They use some sort of a ‘future gate profit potential’ algorithm.”
“They never intervene in large system takeovers,” Lowantha agreed. “The gate use doesn’t slow, and they continue to get their credit. But you’re right, they have been known to get involved with new gates.”
“Besides,” Zikorah said before he turned to leave, “you have obviously never tasted a young Nazrooth. Their tadpoles are like having a large sack of goodness in your pincers, ready to sip from as you enjoy the evening. Wonderful.”
Lowantha stood, watching as the expensive hovercraft disappeared around the bend in the valley. After several minutes, Hawthorne made his way down the hillside. The plan had worked, and he’d remained undetected.
“We’re not sticking around for any of this, are we?” Hawthorne asked as he folded the repro film. “You know word’s going to get to Tomeral, especially since he sent a task force to the system once before to get rid of the pirates.”
“Nope and yep,” Lowantha answered both questions. “We’re taking off tonight for another arm of the galaxy. I don’t want to be anywhere near when it all goes down. I don’t like the Bleeve enough to stick around, anyway. I like the credit, but not them. They plan to farm the Nazrooth and drink their young tadpoles like a liquid bulb. Brrrrrrr!” He shuddered outwardly this time.
“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. Thanks a lot, Grant. Now I’m visualizing it,” Hawthorne said with a look of disgust. “You think Salvage System will get involved?” Hawthorne asked as he slung his rifle.
“Not this time,” Lowantha said. “The Bleeve are too powerful. Harmon Tomeral will mess around and get his system invaded by a force strong enough to take it from him if he does.”
“We’re still not sticking around though, right?” Hawthorne asked again.
“No,” Lowantha confirmed. “We’re a liability now. We thought the Gritloth tried to find us; these spider beetles will be relentless. We’re going deep into hiding. Until the Bleeve get a few systems added to their own so their queen can get a good start on her empire, we need to have our heads on a swivel. We know too much.”
“You know too much.” Hawthorne laughed. “They don’t know about me.”
“Maybe so, but they don’t know what I look like,” Lowantha said. “Let’s go. This wig is itchy.”
* * *
Royal Palace
Planet Bleeve
Zikorah dipped his head low with his rear high in the air in respect to his queen, looked up, and gave his report. “My Queen, my source has confirmed the first system in your sights, and the home of your favorite snack, is still defenseless. We have to change our initial insertion plan, but it is of no consequence. Your intelligence office and military planning department have two more plans prepared. With your permission, I will initiate the first of those two. The timing will be perfect.”
“Good,” Queen Shamilorah said, settling her huge bulk on her command dais. She was half again the size of a normal Bleeve, and much heavier. “It is time to take my rightful place in this galaxy, and this only the beginning. Admiral Gorligthah, are your forces ready to depart?”
The commander of Bleeve Forces scuttled forward to stand beside Zikorah. “Yes, my Queen. The Fleet and the designated Skitter Force units stand ready f
or your final command. If it is permissible, I would like to have the fleet run through some formations and extra training to ensure your desires are carried out without issues. Now that we have the intelligence we need, nothing will stop us.”
“Train your Skitter Forces. Report when you feel they are ready. Only then will I give the command. This is the first system of many. It must not fail,” said the queen.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Weapons Range Fourteen
Planet Salvage
“Let me take a look at your weapon,” Lieutenant Mayshire requested. “It uses .50 caliber rounds, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Private First Class Dooringo said. He checked to ensure his huge multi-barreled weapon was clear, disconnected from its feeding belt, and on safe before handing it, with its barrels still pointed down range, to his platoon leader.
The lieutenant held the weapon, and Dooringo fastened the strap over her shoulder and adjusted the length. Even with the strap, the weapon was extremely heavy. “Squat! This thing weighs a ton!” she exclaimed, looking over at the PFC.
Corporal Tylinga laughed on the other side of the troop in her deep Taylahh voice. “Ma’am, that four-barreled gun is not all he carries. The power cell is in a bag on his other side with a backpack full of rounds.” She pointed to the rest of the rapid gunner’s equipment.
The backpack was padded where it met the gunner’s body, while the rest of it was a hard case. A flexible channel came from the bottom to connect to the weapon. The total weight for the whole setup was staggering.
“I didn’t see all this when I picked you up last week,” Lieutenant Mayshire said, grinning. “I did notice you had the weapon on your back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” PFC Dooringo said, grinning himself. “I don’t let it out of my sight. It wasn’t an easy task getting it set after I put it together. The timing can be finicky if it is not stored correctly. I keep it with me when I travel.”
“Wait,” Mayshire asked. “You built it?”
“He did,” interjected Sergeant Muraingo. “There are other models out there; several races use similar weapons. Many human systems use a version on vehicles and aircraft. His design is a combination of several of those, with some recoil relief in the stock. He maintains the squad’s equipment as well. He has a knack for weapons.”
“That’s good information to know.” Mayshire nodded. “What does it all weigh?”
“With the pack fully loaded,” Dooringo answered, “I’m carrying more than two hundred of your pounds.”
“Squat!” exclaimed Mayshire. “Isn’t that a hindrance in combat?”
“Ma’am,” Sergeant Muraingo said, “I may be the tallest in our squad, but I’m not the strongest. Dooringo weighs over a thousand of your pounds. His equipment, including battle armor, is about a third of his weight. The battle armor is servo-assisted, so that helps.”
“Ok,” agreed Mayshire. “That makes more sense. I weigh one hundred and fifty pounds, and I carry more than a third of my weight into battle when I’m not in my mech.”
“It’s not the weight,” observed Corporal Tylinga. “It’s the recoil where his great strength is the asset. Without it, the recoil and the rising barrel would keep him from staying on target for the full twenty-round burst he prefers.”
“When the new mechs designed for your squad are complete,” Mayshire said, “Dooringo’s will have two triple-barrel railguns on his shoulders. It will hold many, many more rounds than that pack. Both arms on his machine will also have grenade launchers. From what I hear, the armor on them will be incredible, as well.”
“It sounds like they will be incredible war machines,” Muraingo said, “able to deal massive destruction.”
“That’s not all they’ll be able to do,” Mayshire said. She looked over at the smallest of the Taylahhs. “Private Bornlago, you scored very high on the programing and coding portion of the tests. Your mech will have the scout drones Bahroot developed. They’re small, fast, and can be used to infiltrate secure enemy networks and communications gear once they get close. Bahroot and his father programmed them to break most forms of known coding. If you run into something different out there, your skills with the decryption program in your mech should be able to cut and splice something that would work. From what they’re telling me, they don’t think there’s anything like it out there. You won’t have the firepower of the rest of your squad, but your mech will still hold more rounds than a standard mech, and it’ll have better armor.”
“When will they be ready?” asked Muraingo.
“They’re finalizing the designs, and Bahroot’s running simulations to check for design flaws,” the lieutenant answered. “Within the month, I suspect. They made simulators first. Those arrive in a week, so you can learn to operate them. Your instructor will teach you everything about the weapon controls, but the design is so different to match your physique that you’ll have to spend time on the simulator and in them to truly learn how to effectively maneuver them. It’s unchartered territory.”
“Is Bahroot one of the two Artificial Intelligences residing here in the system?” asked Muraingo.
“He is,” confirmed Mayshire. “The only two in our galaxy, as far as anyone knows. He’s aiding in the design of the new mechs; as a matter of fact, the programming is nearly all his. They’re so complicated, it grew beyond Commander Kolget’s ability while he juggles everything else he oversees.”
“There are races other than humans who use mechs, but this will be the first time a Taylahh has done it,” confirmed Muraingo.
“We now have sixteen Heavy Mechs with Yalteen and Withaloo operators,” the lieutenant said, “sixteen of the smaller Scout Mechs with Prithmar and Smitok pilots, and ten really small Beetle Mechs with Smilps operating them. At first I was hesitant to call them that, but the Smilps came up with the name themselves. Adding your six Massive Mechs will make this platoon an incredible force multiplier. I call it a platoon, but Captain Brink is considering changing its designator to a company.”
“I watched the small Beetle Mechs on the range earlier,” Muraingo said. “I couldn’t believe how fast they crossed open terrain while accurately firing the railguns mounted on their backs. The way they move back and forth, weaving among themselves, an enemy will have trouble keeping them from getting within their perimeter.”
“That’s what they’re designed to do,” agreed Lieutenant Mayshire. “Move fast and get in and among them. The light-absorbing paint scheme Wally put on them make them especially effective at night.”
“Speaking of Wally,” Corporal Tylinga said, “my appointment is tomorrow morning to get the lightning on my face.”
“Congratulations, by the way,” Mayshire said, “to all of you. It usually takes a couple of weeks for prior service troops to qualify to become full-fledged Bolts. You did it in record time.”
“We sustained ground action on a contract last year,” Sergeant Muraingo informed her. “It helped immensely with the testing portion. The physical and weapons training comes easy, and Bornlago is a natural with programing. Knowing what to do in certain situations takes experience, which we all have.”
“It shows,” agreed the lieutenant. “Alright PFC, show me what your Rapid Gun can do. Wait.” She turned toward the corporal, realizing she’d almost missed something in Corporal Tylinga’s comment. “Why are you going first with the tattoo and not Sergeant Muraingo?”
“They’re scared,” answered Private Kaptinga, the other female in the squad, with a toothy grin. “I’m going with her. We have to let the guys know it doesn’t hurt.”
Lieutenant Mayshire looked over at the four male members of the squad. They looked up and around, refusing to look her in the eyes. She shook her head and laughed.
“What?” Muraingo finally asked. “I don’t like needles, that’s all.”
“I’d rather get shot then get a shot,” agreed Private First Class Narmango, the quietest of the squad. “Wounded in battle? It
happens. Needles? No thank you. But I will do it to become a Bolt. In the last week, I’ve met many I now consider friends. Even though this unit is made up of multiple races, the camaraderie is like no other unit I’ve been a part of, and I’m older than the others here.”
“He’s correct, ma’am,” Muraingo confirmed. “We’ve been welcomed, and it feels as if we’ve been here far longer.”
“The troops take pride in that,” Lieutenant Mayshire said. “As leaders, we encourage it. For this unit to be at its best, we all have to become one with the lightning.”
“I wondered where the motto came from,” said Sergeant Muraingo. “One With The Lightning.”
“Wait until you hear it shouted across a parade field when the entire Salvage Ground Forces are in a formation.” The lieutenant grinned. “We have the best motto of all the units. The Withaloo tank battalion has a pretty good one, but I still think ours is better.”
“I like it. Building unit pride goes a long way toward the camaraderie,” observed Sergeant Muraingo. “It’s something many races and their forces have used throughout time.”
* * *
Motor Pool
Bolts’ Headquarters
Planet Salvage
Lieutenant Waylon Algrite stood beside Staff Sergeant Naylark. He turned to her and asked, “What do you think? Should we disperse the new tanks, or make one platoon with the six of them?”
The Pikith beside him ran a hand across her short white hair and said, “I think you should put the first six in the Headquarters Platoon. You know you’re going to be out front at the onset of any battle. I want the best armor around you. Now that the artillery unit has armored ammo bearers pulling them, we have to adjust our tactics. I think we start there.”
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