The Vanguard Emerges (Maraukian War Book 2)

by Michael Chatfield

  “Well, looks like I better do something about the ceiling,” Chyna grumbled. The sensor feed from the suit Mark was watching shuddered with the wearer’s laughter.

  “Anything since?”

  “Nope, nothing at all.”

  “Good.” Mark saved his work as Sarah highlighted Weng, coming from the office, on his HUD.

  “Mark, sort out a security detail of four. We have a meeting in a half hour.”

  “Darius, Ibanez, Eutropio, and myself. Jarek sorts out QRF.”

  Sarah was already running diagnostics on his suit as he and the three others he called walked out in the corridor. He stood at the tip of the triangle, Darius to his right, and Ibanez to his left as Eutropio left the doorway open for the senators to fill the gap. Once Florence and Weng had done so, he took up the rear to make it a diamond formation. Their NIAIs were now so attuned to their thoughts, the NIAI linked their sensors before they asked.

  Mark focused on the attractive blonde aide from earlier for a half second; she looked startled but something in her blue-eyes made Mark feel as if it were a show. Maybe she was playing for the sensor units in the corridor for newspapers and reporters. Wouldn’t be the first time, Mark thought grimly as his eyes roved the compressed 360-view projected by his helmet, making up for the lack of head movement from side to side.

  They made it to the room where a table was set in the middle of what looked to be a massive auditorium. Reporters and people filled the stands as high-ranking government officials sat at the table. The front row of the auditorium was reserved for attachés from major companies. Their data pads were out and they were listening to their corporate orders, no doubt passing them onto their officials sitting at the table.

  A soldier opening the door allowed it to swing back, so suddenly Mark thought its opening mechanism was rigged. It smacked Ibanez roughly in the back with a solid thud. Ibanez kept walking as if nothing had happened. Instead, the door’s wood had an imprint of his back and was cracked in places, revealing the crondium armor underneath.

  Mark moved to the side and allowed the senators to come forward. The Phantoms looked like statues on the outside. Inside, it was a hive of activity, sending the feeds back to the Phantoms they’d left behind to go over the people in the room. In five minutes, they knew everyone in the room, their immediate family and their records.

  They stood well out of arm’s reach of the senators, making it hard for the float cams to put them all in the same frame. Weng had made it clear that he wanted to put forward the civilian side of the alliance, not just the military; they’d seen what they needed to see on Gilese.

  Mark’s gaze rested on one of the officials at the table as they announced themselves. The COEMF stood up with a dazzling smile, looking not much older than a teenager. Mark remembered Horlem and Freusht, crushing his anger as he continued to study the room.

  Mark half listened to the talks as he stood there.

  The president stood first, a fake smile on his face yet again. “Again, I am sorry, Senators, for the unfounded rumors of both our and your involvement in these so-called ‘loyalty chips.’”

  “They might be unfounded on our side, but not so sure about on yours, bub,” Sarah added harshly.

  “There are people of all kinds who can’t understand the want for simple and free peace,” Weng replied.

  “Score one for Weng,” Sarah ad-libbed as she brought up snapshots of a few people who clearly did not look pleased.

  “Are you going to talk the whole time?”

  “Hey, it’s not like I’m going to see this very often,” Sarah said. Recently the Phantoms’ NIAIs had taken on avatars. Sarah’s was a petite ginger, usually wearing a stylishly tilted ball cap, jeans, and a plaid shirt. Her avatar showed her as sitting in a reclining computer chair between the two groups, glancing back and forth as she munched on a bag of popcorn.

  Mark grumbled, but a grin tugged at his lips. He went back to his scanning as Earth and Her Colonies talked with Roma and her allied worlds. Later, Mark would find Sarah saved the video from every cam and sensor to make a three-dimensional holograph of every meeting and moment.

  “Indeed,” the president said with a grave face. “Now, on with the talks!” he said to the cheers of the room as he sat back in his seat.

  “What would you like to begin with, Mr. President?”

  “Ah, yes, I would like to talk about these Maraukians and what you’ve been doing the last two and a half thousand years.”

  “The Maraukians are an alien race who, when the Ninth Legion first met them, were taking people and transplanting them on planets. Simply as tools to create a higher carbon dioxide output on these worlds.”

  “But these Maraukians can breathe in almost any condition.”

  “Yes. It’s believed they prefer it; others believe they were sent to do this, stating the evident manipulation in their gene pool as fact.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “Mr. President, we’re humans, same as you. No one always agrees, a few times perhaps, but never always.” After a few seconds, he continued. “The Ninth took the ship from the Maraukians and used an imprint technology the Maraukians use to create their leadership and more talented individuals.”

  “What happened to this imprint technology?” the head of the information agency asked, his eyes alight.

  “It was later banned after we found out the effects it had on a human’s physiology, in most cases leading to death. We used it to get to the stars. We fought the Maraukians with their technology, moving across worlds and liberating unknowing humans. They joined the ranks of the legion and obeyed the rules of Rome; in turn, they provided a home legion to defend the planet if the Maraukians came back.”

  “Rome? Why not Roma?” the president asked.

  “Roma was not yet formed. The legion returned home, gathering up their families and supplies that those who had wished to stay behind had stockpiled for them. They found Roma; it was unoccupied by Maraukian forces, so the legion, their family, and their allies worked hard together to build it. A technological revolution happened—the finding of the jump drive, which gave us a tremendous advantage over the Maraukians traveling at LTL speed.

  “The legion created warships. The families also created cargo haulers. We expanded, moving on to free more worlds and gain more support. My world, Leiftus, was the fifth freed world. My planet was in the Stone Ages when the legion found us, pulling us into the space age.”

  “What period of time was this on Earth?”

  “This was about two thousand years ago. We learned of the multiple wars Earth had gone through, including the two great wars.”

  “Why didn’t you help Earth?” the president demanded.

  Weng looked up at the president with a sad but kind smile. “A child has to make mistakes to learn. We vowed then not to let Earth know of our situation.”

  “Why should you get to make such a call?” The president’s hand hit the table.

  Mark didn’t miss how his eyes darted to the corporation liaisons.

  “You were so violent. We were fighting for the safety of the human race, to survive; you were fighting for oil, for power. We were still just getting out into the universe. With every planet, the legion helped as they could, having to fight for every inch of that planet. At that time, Maraukians could show up again after a few decades and we’d have to fight for the same planet all over again. Since then, they haven’t been able to surprise attack us. The legion’s goal has been to go to new planets and help them. Every Roma citizen has to serve a minimum of two years in the legion. Other than that, they can elect to increase their service or to revert back to their citizen status.”

  “So it’s not just the legion?” the COEMF asked.

  The room had grown quiet as Weng had spoken.

  “No, we’re not just a military organization.”

  “What I don’t get is that the minute these Maraukians attacked Gilese, you appeared, after swearing not to. Surprising, seeing
as it was also the first time Earth and Her Colonies have seen a jump drive, which didn’t land on Gilese and you didn’t allow anyone to get close enough to examine,” the president asked in perplexed tones.

  “Florence, you’re familiar with military matters.”

  Florence bowed his head slightly. “This is the first time we’ve interacted with a Maraukian jump drive. Before Gilese, we’d only seen sensor readouts from an extreme distance. We weren’t even sure they had jump drives until they appeared at your doorstep. In Gilese, we didn’t touch them as we didn’t know if they would explode, killing our people.”

  “Your people? What about mine who died on Gilese because you didn’t arm us with the correct weaponry?” the president demanded.

  Mark did not like the way this was going, he decided as they continued.

  “There wasn’t enough time for us to train and arm your people. We had to send everything we could to Gilese as fast as possible in case the Maraukians got rooted in.”

  “Rooted in?” the IA head asked.

  “When Maraukians are attacking, you have the biggest opportunity to kill them. Once they’re in, they hardly leave unless you pose a big enough challenge to their domination of the world. They have a herd mentality: they’ll sacrifice themselves to save their herd at large, then those on their assault barges, then transport and finally the entire landing force.”

  “You were still too late. Millions of people died before they knew of the impending doom and fled to the bunkers and shelters we had the foresight to create.”

  “This is true. We sent a message through your information system to warn you of the incoming attack, but it was—for some reason—ignored and people were told not to listen to the so-called prank.” Florence’s eyes blazed.

  “I was not made aware that there was such a warning. We shall look into this.” The president stared at the officials around him with a withering glare.

  “That one’s a good actor.” Sarah’s avatar seemingly walked around the man and studied him, still eating her popcorn.

  “How do you think he kept the job for twenty-five years?” Mark replied.

  “That still doesn’t excuse you from letting millions of Gilese men, women, and children die.”

  “If we hadn’t come, there wouldn’t be anyone alive,” Florence said.

  Outrage burst from the pews and from the EHC delegation.

  “Give us the weapons and the armor and we’ll upgrade them. We’ll take the fight to these Maraukians. We’ll give our people peace.”

  “Each planet will receive a military package, along with an agricultural, mechanical, technological, and medical package if they so accept,” Weng said. “This will only be enough armament for a legion’s worth.”

  “How many are in a legion?”

  “Approximately five thousand personnel.”

  “You expect us to fend off the Maraukians with only five thousand personnel per world? If we did that, then there’d be no way we could retaliate and attack them. I’m sorry, Senator, but we need more than that.” The president’s sarcastic tone got claps and cheers from the pews. After a while, they settled down.

  “That is what every world has gotten to date; we will give you no less and no more.”

  “What if we need more?”

  “Then you can buy, trade, or make it. Other planets or corporations may even sponsor you, if you ask.” Weng shrugged.

  “Sponsor?”

  “They give you factories; you pay off the value of the factories by using your larger workforce to churn out items, items that would be cheaper in the system you make it in and thus cheaper for the planet. Also, they may buy resources for those factories in that system, making it more cost efficient to place a factory there.”

  “What about for weapons?”

  “Certain planets do sell weapons, though the largest buyer of weapons, armor, and ammunition is the legion. All military things are incredibly expensive.”

  “They can’t be that expensive,” the intelligence officer said.

  Not the crap you buy, Mark thought.

  “Do you know of the assault rifle used by a normal legionnaire, the M19?” Weng asked, seeing more blank stares than understanding ones.

  “Holo projector, please, Mark.”

  “Senator.” Mark moved. Every eye seemed to focus on him as he stopped and a magnified M19 floated in the air.

  “This is the M19.” Most of the people in the room stared at the hologram more in shock than interest but they were looking at it.

  “One of these costs a hundred thousand EHC credits.”

  “That’s not overly too bad. The rifle for an EMF marine costs forty-five thousand.”

  “Ah, it’s a good thing he can look up things without looking like he is,” Sarah said. “Piece of crap gun, though—I saw the specs. How did you survive with that thing?”

  “Many didn’t,” Mark said soberly.

  Sarah gave him a sad look then went back to her wandering through his HUD.

  “The Mars type-two armor,” Weng said. A seven-foot Mars II now floated in the air.

  “One of these costs thirty-seven million EHC credits.”

  This made the delegation’s eyes bulge as they looked at the suit.

  “The Mars III is supposed to cost two, or possibly up to three hundred million.”

  “That’s impossible for armor,” the COEMF whispered.

  “I have to agree with the COEMF here. That does seem hugely expensive,” the president said.

  “Yes, it is, but again, you’re thinking we have a choice. We’re fighting to survive, and we’re not going out to get a new world like it’s a new house. If we don’t fight them and push them back, they’ll overwhelm us and wipe every human in the universe out of existence.” There were no claps, no cheers, nor booing as Weng surveyed the room. Just silence greeted him as he looked over the room. “They don’t care about this meeting. They don’t care about our weaponry, or even if we’re armed. We’re just in their way. Anything that is a threat to their herd is eliminated, and you step out once, you’re up for the slaughterhouse.”

  “Do they attack worlds that haven’t attacked them, or joined you?”

  “Yes. If they deem the people on the world to be a threat, gain over a certain limit technology, such as repeating projectile weapons or a certain amount of people on one planet, they’ll cull the people there or beat them back into the Stone Age. They retaliate; the Maraukians wipe them out, from the men to the babes.”

  “I would like to get more information on these Maraukians. Would it be possible to visit your planets?”

  “That’s one thing we want to figure out. See, for you to travel to our worlds, it would take hundreds of years. For a jump drive, it just takes a maximum of a few months. Though there need to be jump station relays so people don’t go crashing into one another.”

  “How would we do this?”

  “They’re usually just a bunch of AIs with very intelligent sensors for the smaller ones. For the larger traffic areas, there are usually floating stations set up.”

  “Will we get one of these with the packages?”

  “Yes. They’re dropped off as ships enter the system.”

  “When will we get one?”

  “Well, they’re dropped off in accordance of which systems are the easiest and fastest to get to. Seeing as Sol system is in the center of the sphere of the other systems, I believe it’s last. The first eight or so systems should already have the jump stations and their packages. It shouldn’t be more than a few months before the rest are given the packages. We were caught off guard and we are rushing productionon these sorts of supplies. I am sure that you can understand that we can’t just give them out freely and require compensation in materials or alliance agreements,” Senator Weng said.

  “Understandable. Well, I think we should adjourn for the day as we have much to think over. Thank you, Senators.”

  Everyone stood. The senators bowed slightly, the EHC del
egation disregarded them, filing out of their door. Eutropio took the tip of the diamond as the senators walked out. Mark fell in behind. Again the blonde appeared, walking them to their room.

  “We have to search you,” one of four marines said. A further eight stood behind them, and twenty or so along the walls of the corridor leading to their rooms.

  “We are diplomats. Searching us is considered an aggressive act,” Senator Weng said helpfully.

  “Not you.” The man gave a dismissive wave. “These things.” He pointed to the Phantoms.

  “Mark?”

  “Sure, let them search.”

  “Continue.”

  “I don’t need your permission, old man.” The marine sneered as he waved his men forward. They patted the metal, studying the high-density bricks, their mono-wire, and M20s.

  “Hey, what’re you doing?” a man demanded, his fingers inches from Darius’s mono-blade.

  “Those are mono-blades, sharpened to a single molecule. It will cut through anything it touches.”

  The man flinched away.

  “We’ll have to take those,” the man in charge said.

  “They’re bolted to the armor. You couldn’t move them if you tried.”

  “Reinforce everything on your body.”

  The marines tried pulling the swords clear, to no avail.

  “It seems they’re secure enough.” The man grumbled as the searchers continued. Some waved sensor wands over the suit. After a few minutes, a searcher cursed in anger.

  “What is it, marine?”

  “The damn sensor wands don’t penetrate the armor. We have no idea what’s inside.”

  “Order your people to open their suits.”

  “If they do, will that be all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mark.”

  “You heard the senator. Out we get.”

  The armor split. Bright silver mono-lines appeared where they did. Their helmets pulled back behind their necks as they stood outside of their suits. Their personal nanites changed to their black fatigues, the Phantom Lord standard on their left breast.

  The searchers were taken aback. Some watched the excess nanites group together, slowly traveling back inside the nanite mass that created the inner layer of the Pluto armor. Others looked up at Mark and his men, who silently surveyed their surroundings.