An Empire is Born (Maraukian War Book 3)

by Michael Chatfield

  She flinched as rounds pinged around her, but the line was coming alive as more legionnaires filed into the wall to increase their firepower and push back the Maraukians.

  “Bellonas have landed and are moving up to the gates!” a communication officer warned the legates.

  A missile struck a section of the wall, throwing several back into it. People were screaming out and crying as Quina continued firing her gun.

  Once on the line with all of her people sorted out, there was nothing more she needed to do. So she might as well help them out, and do some damage at the same time.

  Her machine gun clicked empty. “Reloading!” she yelled. She opened up the gun, tossed the attached belt off to the side and grabbed a new box, slamming it into place and feeding in the new belt. She slammed the cover back over the belt and heaved on the charging handle, pulling a new bolt into the chamber.

  She pulled the trigger as the whine of the rail gun’s magnets entered her ears once again. “Back in!” Quina yelled.

  When climbing the ranks, people often forgot the more basic parts of their jobs. Like how to reload and operate a machine gun. Seeing how she hadn’t lost her skills in the slightest, the legionnaires around her stepped up more.

  If their legate could do it, then they could as well.

  She reached the end of her belt, her gun barrel overheating. “Changing barrel!” She pulled on the gun, pulling it back from her mount so she could get to the barrel.

  “Bellona’s moving!” the communications officer said. The weapons fire from the wall had climbed aggressively with the incoming reinforcements.

  “Get down! Artillery!” Quina yelled at seeing the information pop up in her area.

  Everyone ducked down more. People moving ammunition, weapons, the wounded and dead continued on as the wall started shaking. Dust from the ceiling fell on the legionnaires below as shit pinged off the walls.

  People who were running about fought to keep their balance and keep moving.

  Artillery walked from the gate into the Maraukians as the doors snapped open. The rumbling of the Bellonas could be felt through the walls as Quina looked out on the battlefield.

  “Guns up, legionnaires! Cover the Bellonas!” Quina said. When the Bellonas were moving into the battlefield, it was the most likely time for them to get hit.

  She unlocked the barrel on her gun, tearing off the smoking barrel and putting in a new one. She locked it into place and pushed the gun forward with one hand and opened up the cover, reloading the heavy rail gun and once again depressing the trigger.

  “Back in!” she yelled as she drew tracers over the Maraukians, whose attention was now split between the wall and the Bellonas that rocked. Their main cannons fired and spat out tracers into the Maraukian herd. Thumping noises came from their acceleration rails as trails of smoke appeared from their missile racks.

  Maraukian rounds hit and bounced off the incredibly heavy and thick armor of the tanks.

  Reactive blow-out panels disappeared in a cloud of debris, hitting missiles out of the sky and turning them into a black smoke that would shake the tank and kill the Maraukians around it.

  Its armor was hit repeatedly with plasma rounds. Foam shot from different nozzles to counteract the plasma.

  Quina moved from target to target, remembering her training, leading her targets and sending precise bursts into them. Her movements and actions weren’t even conscious thoughts but reactions that her training staff would have been proud of.

  She shifted her fire as another machine gun took out the targets she had been lining up. She continued to look for targets, her bursts coming less often. With meticulous attention to detail, she reloaded the heavy rail gun once again.

  She checked over the gun, looking for more targets. Quina couldn’t see any and her NIAI wasn’t highlighting any in the area. She kept scanning before consulting her NIAI and realizing there simply weren’t any more targets left. It was over.

  She slowly put the heavy rail gun on safe as she looked at the links that were all around her. She kicked her legs, pushing them into the gutter below.

  People were rushing back and forth still; the wounded were moving through the wall but ammunition was coming much slower now.

  The Bellonas started to move again, their pitted and scarred hulls returning to behind the wall.

  “Move to quarter watches. Make sure all wounded are taken care of,” the legate in command of this wall said to all of the subordinate legatus.

  “Check the buddy beside you and then get your weapons sorted out. Centurions, get the watch schedule sorted out,” Quina said as her brain started to work again, coming out of whatever zone of madness and fury she had been in.

  Her entire body was shaky as she drank some water from her hydration pack. She looked through the reports that her NIAI had compiled and leveled off the adrenaline high she’d been riding.

  “Just two more walls,” she promised herself as she moved to the last report. Even though they had been reinforcing, still people had died and more were wounded.

  There was nothing she could do but see their names and wish that she didn’t have to leave them on this battlefield.

  Sitting against the wall next to her gun with the belt links moving away from her, she took deep breaths. She wanted to take off her helmet and rest her head in her hands. But if she did that and her people saw, then what would they think?

  Instead, she drank from her water tube and composed herself.

  After a few moments, she got up and moved down the line, checking on her legionnaires, seeing how they were, making sure that they had water and seeing whether she could get some food brought up for them.

  Chapter Forty-One

  VCF B-17

  Between the Masoul and Guaranak Systems

  2/3556

  Ortiz had spent the weeks in transit talking to the different commanders under him. They needed to get new weapons and armor in order to fight on the same level as the people in the legion. The first reason was that Ortiz only wanted the best for his people; the second was that if the legion did attack them, Ortiz wanted to be ready.

  Using the armor that they had modified from the Harmony War was no longer an option.

  Then he had decisively moved through the ranks of the troopers who were committed to joining the new military force.

  He had gone through from colonels and generals down to the privates. Based on merits and past performances, people were moved around into different ranks and groups as needed.

  Then there was setting up the training base in Emarl system. If people wanted to become a trooper, they needed training.

  For this, there were people from all over Tricticus who were looking to remain warriors and defend their homes.

  They needed to be washed of their previous identity and turned into troopers. Thankfully, the training staff of the troopers could make anyone forget their past and just look toward surviving what was coming.

  The last was managing the different forces that were looking to make contact with the people aboard the different EMFCs that hid between the EHC systems.

  He stood on the command deck of one of the inter-system Freighter B-17 that had been modified with an Alcubierre drive.

  Captain Depah was a serious man who played it by the book. Although he might seem like a hard taskmaster, he knew when to let his people go and when to push them harder.

  Ortiz wasn’t here just to see how things worked in the command center. He was looking at the main screen. On it, three large carriers were moving just with the stellar winds.

  Ortiz saw the sensors zoom in as they were finally able to get a good picture of one of the Earth Military Force carriers, Doomsday.

  The carrier floated in space, a silent behemoth waiting to be activated and sent into war. It was hard to not look at it and feel a surge of power.

  Ortiz gripped his hands behind his back. The powerful guns on the ship were all stowed away and there didn’t seem to be life from any
three of the carriers as they floated there.

  “Communications, send out the security codes,” Depah said.

  “Sir.” The woman at communications input the different codes. These were the codes that Moretti had gained from the Ministry of Intelligence, override codes for the EMFCs.

  They weren’t that well-guarded and he had been able to get them before Nivad died.

  No one had been able to take full control of the Ministry of Intelligence after his death.

  The corporations were scared of having another overlord telling them what to do, while the factions inside the Ministry of Intelligence turned on one another.

  Part of why they needed to carry out this operation as soon as possible was in case someone was able to find the codes and change them out before the different freighters were able to reach out to the EMF personnel and take command of the ships themselves.

  The tension on the command bridge climbed a bit more as everyone focused on the communications officer who was sending out the security codes to the ships.

  Finally, something changed on her screen.

  “Codes have been acknowledged. We are cleared to dock with the different carriers. The carriers confirm that all of the command staff are unconscious and all fail-safes have been disabled.” The communications officer’s words made everyone sigh in relief.

  “Looks like our bit is done.” Depah looked to Ortiz.

  “Now it’s just up to the rest of us to make sure that we can hopefully beat some sense into our fellow troopers and EMF personnel over there,” Ortiz said.

  Depah nodded. “Good luck, General.”

  “Hopefully I won’t need it. I’ve got my secret weapon.” Ortiz grinned and patted his thigh pouch that held a squeeze bottle filled with an amber liquid.

  Depah couldn’t resist smiling as Ortiz turned and left the command center.

  “Send word to the shuttle pilots that they are free for launch. Make sure that their containers are unlocked,” Depah said.

  “Sir.” The communications officer passed word onto the shuttle crews.

  The VCF B-17 was filled with containers, most that contained different parts or machinery that would be needed to assemble the three different Alcubierre drives.

  They also had three shuttles that were stored in outer containers. The shuttle crews, in their armored gear, quickly moved across the freighter to the large containers holding their craft.

  They opened the container doors, revealing the combat shuttles.

  Checks were run on the different combat shuttles as the personnel who had been picked up from the VCF Osdal moved to the combat shuttles as well.

  Ortiz met with the group that would be joining him aboard the VCF Osdal. He grabbed his E13 from the mini armory, checking it and his ammunition by rote response.

  He didn’t know how many decades it had been since he had first touched an E12 but he’d spent more time with it than any other woman he’d ever known.

  Once everyone was checked out and good to go, they headed into the air lock.

  It quickly cycled and released them into the soundless expanse.

  Ortiz took it in for a moment, that moment where the world, the noise, all of it just fell away and he could hear his breath, crystal-clear.

  He saw the freighter with its long spine and ribs that the hundreds of containers were clamped to. Beyond it was the endless abyss and the stars. Stars that were older than all civilization and life appeared in his eyes as the glass on his helmet compensated.

  His activated mag boots kept him connected to the freighter as he stepped onto the containers and headed for the combat shuttle that would take them over to see the EMFC Doomsday.

  It took them some time to reach the container. The doors were opened and attached to the others on either side. Inside, the combat shuttle was clamped down, with gear stuck to the walls.

  The Victor Corporation might be a civilian corporation but they made sure all of their people had some options if they wanted to fight till the end.

  The containers weren’t anything rare and had been built long ago. Slotting them into the B-17 was as easy as adding any other container.

  They all clambered in, seeing the captain, co-pilot, and the cargo master running final checks.

  “Morning y’all. Come on in. We’ll be leaving in fifteen. Nearly done.” A petite but wide woman, the cargo master of the combat shuttle, guided them in.

  The pilots moved up to their seats. The different systems were already humming as the start-up power was routed through the ship.

  The craft started to hum. Ortiz could hear it through his helmet as the powerful engines on the combat shuttle increased and decreased power, confirming that they were fully operational.

  “We’re all good to go!” the pilot said as the ramp of the combat shuttle closed up.

  Different bolts were released and power was pushed into the engines as they moved forward and out of the container. The landing gear was pulled in as they cleared the container and the shuttle pilot increased their speed.

  “All right, we’re looking at about forty minutes of transit time. Get comfortable,” the cargo master said.

  Ortiz got comfortable in his seat and put his head back.

  ***

  “Morning, ladies and gents. We’re almost at our destination.” The cargo master’s voice rang in all of their helmets. People who had nodded off started to stretch and wake themselves up, checking the harness that kept them locked in place.

  They could feel that they were already firing toward the EMFC, trying to reduce their overall thrust and velocity toward the Doomsday. Ortiz accessed the ship’s sensors and got to see the EMFC Doomsday as it seemed to appear out of the darkness. He checked the telemetry that showed the VCF B-17 moving between all three of the carriers while the three different combat shuttles were coming in on final approach.

  “Codes are sent. Hope this works.” The co-pilot looked toward the large carrier doors that actually allowed one to access the flight deck of the carrier.

  The doors started to open on their approach, as if welcoming them home.

  Ortiz felt a wave of nostalgia as he looked upon the ranks and ranks of combat shuttles that lay ready on the carrier’s flight deck. He used his NIAI to access the records of the ship and checked on one Major Ramirez.

  The pilot and co-pilot talked to the computer systems of the carrier that guided them into a landing spot. They shut down the engines as the ramp opened up.

  Ortiz smacked his harness, releasing it and standing up. “All right, engineers, check on the fail-safes. I want team alpha at the bridge, team bravo at the ground command center. The rest of you move to the spine and don’t wake someone up unless you confirm with your own eyes it’s a person you know. We can’t have any Earth and Her Colonies dogs trying to get the word out. If they do, then we won’t be able to revive any of the other carriers and try to get them back to Emarl,” Ortiz reminded them all.

  He got green lights across his visor, showing that everyone understood his orders and they were good to go.

  “Move out!” Ortiz led the way and the different groups set off. The whole ship’s systems were just coming back online; gravity was online and air was filling the living areas of the ship under the orders sent from the B-17.

  Some areas had lights on while others were slowly coming online. The reactors were only partly online. If this went sideways, they didn’t want the ship to be fully combat ready.

  Ortiz patted the squeeze bottle and headed off down the spine, passing thousands of EMF personnel just waiting to be activated, to be called to battle once again. It was eerie, looking at all of these faces with no one around him.

  Major Janina Ramirez was his target and finding her in the officer’s logs wasn’t hard. Forward decks, cryopod 77. Her favorite number.

  Various areas of the ship were offline without even basic lighting. The ship was in full sleep state, running on just passive systems that only needed the solar sails to
run.

  Ortiz located the pod. The older cryotanks were large, made of materials they’d long stopped using, but they worked just fine. He placed a hand to the pod and felt the cool metal beneath it. A shiver ran through him. She was gonna be pissed at this. That’s for sure.

  Waiting no longer, Ortiz keyed in several codes, and then waited while the red blinking lights across the pod’s boards turned green. There was a click and a slight gaseous cloud escaped from it. Then the pod opened completely.

  Lying there, just slightly coming around, was a woman in uniform. Her thick muscles and physique showed and he couldn’t help but admire her for that.

  Then her gray-green eyes opened and she saw him. “What are you staring at, you perve?” She pushed herself up slightly. She glanced around, quickly assessing her situation, and then met his eyes once more. “Fuck, seems I went to hell after all. Goddamn, Ortiz, can you get any uglier?”

  “I brought a present.” Ortiz held up the bottle of Scotch he’d had in his pocket.

  Ramirez laughed as she stepped out of the cryopod, holding her head from the cryofreeze’s telltale hangover, and stretched out her hand. “Gimmie,” she managed.

  Ortiz opened the bottle and passed it to her.

  She took a slug straight from it, letting out a sigh as the alcohol got to work, clearing the hangover.

  “Damn. And it’s the good shit.” Ramirez’s eyes were still closed as she waited for the pain to go away fully. The Scotch warmed her stomach.

  “All right, so why are you on my ship and why isn’t there a real officer yelling at me?” She opened her eyes fully, seeing the general rank on his shoulder. “Or maybe I should be asking who the hell made you a general, of all things?”

  “It’s going to take a lot longer than a five-minute conversation.” Ortiz waved for her to follow him.

  “Lead on,” she said. All of the EMFCs were built the same, so Ortiz already knew the EMFC Doomsday as well as his old EMFC Reclaimer.

  They passed the other cryopods. Ramirez looked into the different pods and saw that everyone was still out cold.