The Tetra War_The Katash Enigma

by Michael Ryan

“Roger.” I switched comms. “Brown?”

  “Brown actual, go,” the squad leader answered.

  “Can you put eyes on that tank?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Give Massy a hand,” I ordered.

  “Moving now,” he responded.

  “Tank Command, you have support,” I said. I transferred the contact information for Brown Squad as if I were setting up a blind date. I could see only two figures running from the tank before secondary explosions lit the sky. Tank drivers had it tough. Like mecha operators, their bodies were so integrated into the machine it took five or six minutes for the best of them to disengage from the controls and exit the vehicle.

  My platoon had suffered more casualties as well. I was down to fifty-five green icons when I viewed my display screen’s field map. I put the destroyed tank out of my mind and surveyed the situation. The heli-jet battle had shifted away ten clicks, so I could safely ignore them – at least momentarily.

  After its destruction of Massy’s tank, the Dreki counterpart had become a victim of its success. The wrath of my platoon and two friendly heli-jets finished it. Heli pilots were known to have a fondness for their ground-bound cousins, and they’d become tank killers whenever something else in the sky wasn’t hounding them.

  The mortar teams were my next concern, but we seemed to have eliminated all those who’d been targeting us. Without any immediate threats to deal with, I keyed over to Callie. “How’s it going, love?”

  “Nothing interesting to report,” she answered.

  I patched into Mallsin and asked her the same question. I left off the diminutive, however, as Callie tended toward hotheaded jealousy.

  Mallsin had nothing additional to report.

  Next, I questioned Abrel and then cycled through the rest of the squad leaders. Nobody had any imminent threats, so I decided it was time to advance.

  We headed to the base of the factory building. Our intel was limited on what was inside the facility, and all the resistance we’d faced up to that point had come externally. Whether this meant the structure would be defenseless once we entered, I didn’t know. I was cognizant that the lizard soldiers had no problem with self-destruction, but whether whatever was inside was too valuable to blow up, we were about to find out.

  “Setting charge,” Callie said.

  “Fire in the hole!”

  The explosion rocked the building. I felt the shock wave through my armor from a hundred and fifty meters away. A billowing cloud of dust eventually settled, but it was still impossible to see far enough inside the structure to know what was waiting for us. “Blue Squad, send in drones,” I ordered.

  “Roger,” Veetea said.

  I linked into the feed of the first drone.

  We’d breached a warehouse. Stacks of boxes with strange lettering stood in long, neat rows. A moment after I’d gotten a good look, something destroyed our drone, and the flying camera went dead. I switched to another one, but it was destroyed a second later.

  “We’re all down,” Veetea informed me. “You want to try more? Looks like they’ve got anti-drone drones.”

  “Shit. You got any anti-drone drone drones?”

  “Fresh out, sir,” he said. “But we can rush in there with guns a-blazing.”

  “Negative. Hold for further instructions.”

  “Roger.”

  “Abrel and Mallsin, get up to the edge of that damaged wall and use your flexi-cams,” I ordered. “And send me a link to both feeds.”

  “Moving,” Abrel said.

  “Brown and Red Squads, keep your eyes behind us. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises from our six.”

  The heli-jets were far away, and we’d neutralized the enemy tanks in the area, nevertheless, getting complacent usually led to a reduction in ranks.

  I switched on the video feeds supplied by Abrel’s and Mallsin’s cams. The view hadn’t changed from before, but whatever had taken out Blue Squad’s drones didn’t notice the tiny flexi-cams. The anti-drone attack had come from a pair of lightly armored Dreki guards. They reminded me of the troops at the slave camps, dangerous, but underqualified to fight experienced soldiers.

  “Sergeant Veetea,” I said.

  “Roger.”

  “Take a quick look at this feed.” I sent him the link to Abrel’s camera. “Move your squad and take out those two guards.”

  “Moving,” he said.

  “The rest of you animals follow Blue. First Silver, then Green, Red, and finally Brown. Eyes open. Report anything bizarre; otherwise, kill them until they’re dead.”

  Sergeant Veetea went through the hole first, his squad on his heels. The two Drekis were dead in short order, and the rest of the platoon arranged themselves defensively inside the building while I figured out the next step.

  “Avery,” Mallsin said, “we’ve got three sets of double doors, but one single door in the farthest corner.”

  “Roger,” I said. Decisions on the fly were always less than optimal, but generally speaking better than indecision. I couldn’t send fifty-odd men through a single set of doors, so I assigned the larger incursions to each of Blue, Silver, and Red Squads. I left the single passageway out of the equation for a moment.

  “Brown and Green Squads, you’ve got our asses,” I commanded. “Don’t let anything come through that hole in the wall behind us unless it’s JFUA.”

  Everyone worked together filing through the double doors. It worked like a well-oiled machine up to the point where everything went to hell. Red squad lost four men before I had time to call them back to a defensive position. Brown and Green each lost two, which surprised me because they were at the other end of the building.

  It can be challenging to evade supersonic missiles inside tight quarters if you’ve never been to specialized urban training. Sergeant Veetea took a round to the leg and was effectively out of action. At least he was alive.

  I checked my platoon icons.

  Inside the building, I had thirty-three green, five orange, a couple of reds, and eleven black icons.

  We managed to move behind a stack of boxes that contained metallic parts. The supplies performed admirably as a shield. I moved Brown Squad away from the rear wall and instructed them to join us. If something came at us from the exterior, we’d be smoked. I did have them leave a drone outside in the dirt, just to give us an early warning if the enemy showed up.

  “Orange injuries, see if you can stabilize the reds. Somebody in Silver tag the dead. I need two soldiers from Green Squad to remain with the injured. Sergeant Veetea, you’re in charge. The rest of you slugs, we’re going through the unimportant-looking door in the corner. Mallsin, post a picture of what I’m talking about.”

  Once in place, I gave the order. “Once we blow the door, charge that bitch like a Volsasniz with a stolen credit card.”

  The first Drekis we’d encountered had apparently been ordered to stay behind the other sets of doors in defensive positions. None of them moved into the cavernous warehouse.

  “Callie, you’ve got demolition duty,” I said. “Red Squad, you’ve got point. Try not to die. Abrel and Mallsin, you’re the tail. Make it happen, people.”

  Callie placed explosive charges on the door’s hinges, and they blew it completely off the wall.

  Red Squad’s six members flew through the door as commanded.

  Three of the group were smart and fast thinking enough to deploy their emergency chutes.

  They survived the thirty-meter drop without injury.

  Of the other three idiots – and I use the term affectionately – two sustained broken legs, and the third was unconscious with a head injury.

  “Lieutenant Ford,” the Red Squad leader said, “we’ve got some weird shit down here, sir.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The graveyards are full of indispensable men.

  ~ Charles André Joseph Marie de Gaulle

  I left four men at the door as security.

  They would also act as relay
s to get messages to Sergeant Veetea.

  The rest of us jumped, explosively discharging our emergency chutes as we dropped into the dark shaft. At the bottom, I ordered a combat engineer to build us a ladder in case our way in was the only way back out.

  The lower level of the factory was lined with rows of tables where humans, purvasts, and talarrstans were seated in neat lines. Small parts covered the working surface, bright lights hung over the assembly stations, and muldvarp masters stared in shock at our arrival.

  The short rodent-like bosses held long black instruments. I didn’t need much imagination to determine what they were used for, and I fought back an urge to crush their heads instead of taking them as prisoners.

  I turned on my external speakers.

  “Which of you muldvarps speak Common English?”

  “They all do,” a human said. He stood and looked at my faceplate with fragile hope. “I hope you’re here to rescue us.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “Who’s ranking here?”

  “Among the rats or us?” the man asked.

  “Both,” I answered.

  There were four muldvarps, so I shot one in the head to ensure they knew I meant business.

  “He was ranking,” one of the creatures said. “Now I am.”

  “Good.” I walked closer to him and pointed to his stick. “If that’s not on the ground before I’m finished asking you to drop it, I’m going to shove it up your–”

  “Sir,” the muldvarp said, dropping the stick. He put out his empty hands. “I’m only a slave myself.”

  “Abrel!” I said over my speaker.

  He messaged me over the comm. “Avery.”

  “Get restraints on these three. We might as well capture additional interpreters. It’ll ensure Golonist stays honest.”

  One of the problems of having only one interpreter is you could never be sure he was relaying information correctly. With a few backups, it would be easy to guarantee you got accurate translations. Abrel took charge of securing the three prisoners. I returned to the human.

  “Name?”

  “Master Sergeant Specialist Kevin Bollington, Guritain SDI, sir,” he answered.

  “I’m Lieutenant Ford. I’m part of a joint force; you’ll be safe with us. Gurts, Teds, and others are working together. Is everyone in this room human, purvast, and talarrstan?”

  “No, sir. There’s another species of similar humanoid. They don’t speak Common English. The rodents talk to them. They’re the ones with the lighter colored skin. You can tell them apart by their hair and eyes. Most are either blond or redheads, and they all have blue or green eyes.”

  “Jesus,” I said over the speaker.

  One of the humans touched her right hand to her forehead, then to the middle of her chest, followed by a tap on the left shoulder, and finally the right.

  “I didn’t know that religion was still around,” I said to her.

  “Yes,” she replied. “There aren’t many of us, but I’ve kept the faith all my life.” She smiled at me and then added, “It’s good to see you.”

  “Don’t quit praying yet,” I said. “We’ve got a long way to go to get out of this mess.”

  “Sir,” she said, “I never stopped.”

  I admired her faith in the face of such hopelessness and pain.

  “Silver Squad, you’re in charge of organizing these captives so we can attempt an orderly exit.”

  “Sir,” the sergeant said.

  “Sergeant Bollington, front and center,” I bellowed like a drill instructor.

  “Sir,” he said.

  “Give me some actionable intel, Sergeant. Are there other exits? More prisoners? Can I expect a platoon of Drekis to attack us any second? What else happens in this place? Talk to me and leave out extraneous details. I want to get moving ASAP.”

  “There’s usually two hundred of us, plus or minus a dozen depending on kitchen duty, illness, and pregnancy. We don’t–”

  “Hold it,” I interrupted. “Pregnancy?”

  “Yes, sir. The Katash, the light-skinned people, can get pregnant. There are forty-two Katashie women. The Grems keep them making babies, sir.”

  “Jesus,” I said.

  “Well, his parents didn’t require sex, sir. But the Katash seem to be similar to us. I was forced to…they made me couple with…I was forced to try to impregnate their women, sir. By the lizards. We assumed they were trying to strengthen the bloodlines. It wasn’t as fun as it sounds, trust me. Eventually, the muldvarps were able to explain to the lizards that our forces sterilize our troops. I think the Grems assumed it was a permanent procedure, as they’ve never bothered to put any of us under the knife to reverse the process.”

  “What happens to the offspring?” I asked.

  “They allow the women to wean the babies, but then they take them away. A few of the women forced themselves to abort, sir. They were attempting to keep the lizards from obtaining more slaves, but the lizards made them pay by torturing several of the favored males to death over the course of three days. It was horrific enough that it worked. The lizards didn’t need all the men alive; they could effectively keep all the women constantly pregnant with just a few males. I hate to say this, but most of the progeny came from only a handful of the strongest Katash men.”

  I could sense my medical program’s chemical interference. I knew I should be feeling rage, but instead I was calm. Nano-miracles. I directed the sergeant to continue.

  “We live and work underground. I don’t know of any exits. I haven’t seen the sky in four or five years. I can’t say for sure. I’ve gauged my time estimate from the Katashie gestation period, but I have no idea if it’s nine months or not. What we assemble in this workroom, I don’t have a clue. Nobody knows. We’re trained to put parts together, and we’re punished if we don’t produce at a rate they deem appropriate.”

  He frowned.

  “To be honest, I considered suicide a few times. But I’m a soldier, and I hoped this day would come. Get me placed in a unit, sir. I’m ready to fight these monsters.”

  “In due time, Sergeant,” I said. “First, we have to get out of here alive. Is there anything else you can tell me?” I pointed to the dead muldvarp on the ground. “Are there guards besides these?”

  “The lizards don’t come down here often. Only when discipline is required. I haven’t seen one in two or three weeks, but, to be clear, I’m not sure if we’re living real days down here. I think they work us for about twelve on and twelve off, but I can’t say. It could be six hours on, six hours off, repeated forever. The mind does weird things in prison…”

  “Roger.”

  I switched to my private comm. I ordered Callie, Abrel, and Mallsin to take two soldiers and two humans or purvasts and search for other prisoners. “Make it quick, but check everything. See if anything looks like an alternative exit.”

  I messaged the combat engineer.

  “Ladder is ready, sir,” he said.

  “Good, patch me through to Sergeant Veetea,” I said.

  A moment later he said, “Veetea, go.”

  “Sitrep,” I ordered.

  “No contact, sir. We lost another trooper, internal blood loss and trauma. We stand to lose another if we don’t get a medevac soon.”

  “Roger. We’ve got approximately two hundred rescues down here…and three POWs. I want you to get me patched into someone with a live sat-comm, pronto.”

  I waited fifteen seconds, and a sat-comm channel was relayed to me.

  Patching into the starship, a corporal answered my call.

  “Corporal Stennor,” the operator said.

  “I need to speak to an available Special Operations officer, a major at least. A colonel would be better,” I said. “This is a Foxtrot-Indio-Sierra. Over.”

  “They’re in a meeting, Ford,” he said.

  “Goddammit, Corporal, it’s First Lieutenant Ford,” I said. “I know you feel secure up there, but if I’m not talking to a major or higher in two min
utes or less, I’m going to find you sometime soon. When I do, you’re going to discover what your own testicles taste like.”

  “Sir,” he said. “I’ll attempt to find Major Bell, but I’m also filing a form X-ray twelve dash three.”

  An interspecies sexual harassment complaint.

  “Thank you, Corporal,” I said. “And have a nice day.”

  I surveyed the room and spotted a private whose name I remembered. “Private Womington?”

  “Sir,” he answered. His voice sounded through my embedded earpiece like he was a scared child. In light of the situation it was hardly surprising.

  “I want you to grab a couple of helpers and collect samples of whatever the Drekis are building here.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  It wasn’t a big mission, but it might help someone in the tech fields.

  Besides, if you want to keep green troops from getting too nervous, keep them busy.

  My display screen lit up.

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  I hit the Y and said, “Lieutenant Ford, go.”

  “Major Bell here. What’s the emergency?”

  “I’m in a basement with two hundred recovered prisoners, sir. Humans, purvasts, talarrstans, and a new species. An alien race called the Katash. I also have three muldvarps, interpreters. Also, Major, I’ve learned the fucking lizards have been breeding slaves down here.”

  “Hold on, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir.”

  I waited with an uncommon apprehension. You never knew when dealing with starship intel officers if you were going to get someone who’d received a politically appointed position or had earned the rank in the field. Watching friends die, and doing your fair share of killing, changes you. There’s a world of attitude difference between someone who’s taken a life and someone who’s only heard about it.

  “Ford,” he said.

  “Go ahead, Major,” I answered.

  “You have less than forty minutes. The all-evacuate order is going out company-wide at minus thirty minutes. We’re going to flatten that place.”

  “I have…” I stopped myself from explaining we had two hundred people, one ladder, a handful of injured TCI-Armored troopers, three prisoners, and a couple of pregnant women I’d just noticed. Venting with the major would only be a waste of time.