Frontline

by Z H Brown

  Eberius holstered his blasters then dashed towards his guard. As soon as he moved, the lead attacker sped in his direction. He lashed out with his sword, only to have the blade blocked by Ansaria’s.

  “Think again, junk heap.”

  Ansaria forced the blade back before going on the attack. She rained down a trio of blows, each of which was blocked by the machine. The second blade bot finally made its move, racing out to finish what the first one had started with Eberius. Before it could reach the two black-clad figures, Ansaria telekinetically shoved it, knocking it into the wall. Before she could follow up on her attack, her original opponent went on the offensive. Now it was Ansaria’s turn to block and deflect blows, the thin blade striking with far more force than she felt was possible.

  The second machine had recovered and rejoined the fray. It came at her from the opposite side as its counterpart, forcing Ansaria to block and dodge even faster. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite fast enough, as the second attacker drew first blood. The incredibly sharp blade bit through her armor and drew a long, thin gash on her arm. Ansaria hissed in pain before using the injury to fuel a counterattack; she lashed out with a heavy, horizontal strike that forced both machines to jump backward. Before they could regain their footing, Ansaria hit her first attacker with a telekinetic blast that sent it flying back down the hall from which it had come.

  Ansaria heard the impact of the bot as it hit the ground, but didn’t wait to see what had happened to it. Instead, she turned her attention to the machine that had wounded her. She unleashed a flurry of blows that the machine expertly blocked and dodged. Ansaria feigned an attack on its empty hand before redirecting the blow towards its sword hand. Her heavy blade sliced through the bot’s thin arm and it barely had time to register the lost limb before Ansaria decapitated it, her blade’s electrical current frying its head before it hit the ground; its body crumpled, its neck smoking and sparking.

  Ansaria didn’t have time to celebrate her victory as she heard the rapid metallic footsteps of the bot she had knocked down the hall coming towards her. The machine was running full-out towards her, its blade angled to spear her through the middle. She spun to the side to avoid the attack, before quickly assuming a defensive position. The pain in her arm was becoming acute and she could feel her muscles shaking from the strain of the fight. She had to push the thought out of her mind as the bot went on the attack, the thin blade jabbing out at her rapidly. It was all Ansaria could do to deflect the swift strikes.

  She was being driven back when her foot caught something, causing her to tumble over backwards. The trajectory of her fall saved her from being skewered by the blade, though it left her with a long, thin cut along her cheek. Her mind briefly registered the body of the fallen bot as what had tripped her, and a plan blossomed in her mind. She quickly rolled away to keep from being stabbed while she was on the floor, then lashed out with her mind. The limp, mechanical corpse rose in the air and shot toward the bot. Ansaria quickly assumed a crouched position before leaping toward her opponent. The bot was distracted by its fallen ally and it batted the body away with a swing of its sword. That action left it open just long enough for Ansaria to drive her blade through the machine’s torso.

  Her blade’s electricity coursed through the machine, turning the wound into a killing blow. Its eyes flared briefly before its systems overloaded and they went dark, the machine going limp along Ansaria’s sword. She pushed the deactivated machine off her weapon, and an instant after it hit the floor, the alarms finally stopped.

  At last, silence filled the room.

  “The system has been purged of the infiltration, and we now have complete control,” said Tread. If he’d had the capability to sweat, Alvara bet he would’ve been wiping his brow now.

  “Good work, Tread,” praised Alvara, sighing in relief. Her momentary relief gave way to slight panic as she remembered her sergeant and friend.

  “Slog, you and Critter stay here with Tread; I’m gonna go check on Sarge!”

  As she slithered out of the control room, she heard the sound of heavy boot steps behind her, she looked back to see one of Eberius’ guards following her.

  “I suppose you’ve got to check on your CO as well,” she said. All she got in response was a nod. As she reached the bottom of the stairs and the room where the halls converged, she saw Ansaria sitting against the viewscreen, injured, but moving.

  “Sarge! Are you alright?”

  Ansaria got to her feet, then winced and grabbed her arm.

  “Aside from a couple scratches, I’m fine.”

  The black-clad guard raced over to his leader and wounded comrade. “Sir, are you injured?” he asked.

  “I’m fine as well, thanks to Sergeant Ansaria’s superb swordsmanship.” Ansaria caught Eberius’ eye and the two shared a look of mutual respect for a few moments before looking away.

  Tread got the system up and running while Eberius’ people tended to their wounded. Alvara helped Ansaria bandage herself up before Tread and the others rendezvoused with them.

  “So, another Imperial outpost sabotaged by this hostile force,” said Ansaria, as she gingerly adjusted the bandages on her arm. “And nothing in the system to add to the info we have on them?”

  “I’m afraid not, sergeant. This incident appears to be identical to the ones Agent Rall investigated,” replied Tread.

  Ansaria sighed in frustration; all this death and destruction, and they still barely knew anything about this menace. With any luck, the Emperor would know what to do, which meant they needed to get going.

  “We’re all fueled up?” she asked Tread.

  “Yes, ma’am. I also programmed the distress beacon to activate in two hours, which gives us more than enough time to be far away from this system.”

  A thought crossed her mind and she turned away from her squad. She went over to Eberius who was overlooking the supply list while his men brought the materials to the ship.

  “How much longer do you think you’ll be?” she asked.

  Eberius looked up from his list. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour. We’re down two men, so it’s taking bit more time than I’d like to search the facility for everything we need, but we’re coming along nicely.”

  Ansaria suddenly found she was unsure how to proceed; she fidgeted with one foot before continuing.

  “Well, we’re all fueled up, and need to be going. Tread set the distress beacon to go off in two hours, so make sure you’re gone before then. I’d hate for an Imperial warship to come along and disintegrate you.”

  Eberius bowed slightly. “Thank you for the warning…and your concern.”

  “Well….I guess this is goodbye then. Good luck with…whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “And good luck to you as well, sergeant.”

  Ansaria stayed where she was for another moment before somewhat hesitatingly heading back to her squad. “Alright everyone, let’s go. We’ve got an Empire to…”

  “Ansaria, a moment,” interrupted Eberius suddenly. He had dithered for a moment before following after her. “I would like to give you something, a token to remember our meeting by…if you would accept it.”

  Unsure of what to say, she nodded.

  Eberius reached down and pulled up the hem of his cape. He tugged on the material until it finally started to rip, and tore a long strip from the garment. He gently took her hand and placed the strip of cloth in her palm.

  “I know it’s not much, but I hope you will keep it as a memento of our brief time together.”

  Ansaria didn’t know what to say. She was acutely aware of her squad standing right behind her. Her mind was spinning and her face was…was she blushing?” For ancestor’s sake, I’m blushing.

  Ansaria racked her mind to think of something to give in return. She couldn’t peel off a piece of her armor, and she had nothing on her person that felt would match the gift she’d been given. She was beginning to panic slightly when she remembered a story from her youth: a ban
d of heroes journeying to a dark land briefly stay in a forest kingdom. Before they leave, the ruler bestows upon them gifts for their quest. One of the heroes asks instead for a single strand of hair from the queen’s head to remember her by - she gave him three.

  Finally, she reached up and grabbed a lock of hair. Using her telekinesis, she cut the lock form her head, before tearing the strip of cloth she had gotten from Eberius in half. She deftly tied the strip into a bow, then took Eberius’ hand as he had taken hers and pressed the gift into it. Eberius gently closed his hand around the lock of hair before bowing deeply to Ansaria.

  “I shall treasure this gift forever more. If the universe is kind, our paths shall cross again one day, Ansaria.”

  “I sincerely hope they will,” she said, her voice wavering just slightly. With that, she turned and headed down the hall back toward her ship, her squad following at her heels.

  A ship arrived to the silent and empty refueling depot. Both squads of soldiers had already departed and the Imperial investigation forces were still some time away. The ship’s occupant was the only one there.

  Reno stalked along the halls Eberius’ men had used when they arrived. When it reached the observation area, it surveyed the carnage before it. The walls were scarred and pitted from the firefight, the reinforced windows scratched and scorched, but still intact. Pieces of machines littered the floor, left where they had fallen, only moved if they inconvenienced the soldiers in their work.

  Reno’s enhanced senses led it to two machines in particular. They had both been dismembered and shoved in the corner of the room. What interested the hunter were not the machines themselves, but the evidence they bore. Saber-class Close Quarters Combat Defense Bots; both equipped with a single, long, wickedly sharp blade, and both of them with signs of a recent encounter with another blade wielder.

  Reno analyzed the pair’s discarded weapons. One of them was coated in a blood type that did not match any in Reno’s database. The other, bore blood from a Xenlongian female.

  Despite Reno’s abilities, and despite the fact that it had already triumphed over one of the Empire’s best, it had been outmaneuvered and defeated time and again by the Empire’s lowliest warriors, nothing more than grunts. And yet here, a basic security bot had managed to wound what Reno itself had been unable to eliminate. Perhaps it was time to reconsider its strategy. After all, it had a mission to complete, and Reno was designed to never fail.

  COMMAND: Eliminate target{s} and destroy data.

  COMMAND: Preserve the silence.

  COMMAND: Ensure the arrival.

  Chapter XVI

  Friends and Enemies, New and Old

  One such power to rival that of our empire is an enigmatic species known to us as Seeders. Evidence collected across numerous worlds taken under Xandarius’ protection points to xeno involvement in dozens of different manners. It is theorized that this “proto-species” once controlled a pan-galactic dominion and interfered in the development of worlds and species across the galaxy. No definitive proof of this species has ever been provided, though the theory receives heavy backing and funding due to striking the personal interest of His Majesty.

  --Excerpt from The Newcomer’s Guide to the Empire

  Ansaria had her squad assemble in the cockpit as they prepared to drop out of Z-Space. It wasn’t easy fitting everyone in the cramped cabin, but she felt they deserved to see this.

  The purplish-black void of Z-Space disappeared, replaced by the infinite starscape of real-space. Dominating their viewscreen was the Imperial Military Center Epsilon, a planet of large, dry continents and small seas. Even from this distance, the vast cities and logistics centers could be seen. Moving pinpricks against the world- space stations, satellites, and spacecraft (both civilian and military), - could just barely be made out.

  “We made it,” proclaimed Ansaria, relief in her voice. Her squad all let out a cheer, even the normally reserved Tread.

  “Slog, any sign of the Throneship?” asked Ansaria.

  Slog pinged the area, searching for the Emperor’s flagship. After a few moments, he had an answer.

  “Believe it or not, Sarge, but looks like we beat ‘em here. Chatter puts their arrival at a couple local hours.”

  “What’ll we do till then?” asked Alvara.

  Ansaria pondered the question. With everything they’d been through, she hadn’t expected to arrive before the Emperor, even if it was just barely. She supposed they could remain on the ship in orbit till their liege arrived, but she doubted anyone would enjoy that, including herself. No, they’d been cooped up on one ship after another for too long. What they needed was a chance to stretch their legs, catch their breath, and maybe get a drink or two.

  “IMC’s usually have civilian outliers on other parts of the planet. Slog, find us a quiet little town where we can wait for His Majesty’s arrival.”

  Ansaria could feel the change in the mood of her squad mates. Finally, after everything they’d been through, it was almost over.

  Slog smiled as he input the inquiry into the ship’s computer. “You got it, Sarge.” A moment later, he had his destination. He angled the ship towards the planet’s southern hemisphere, near the terminus heading into night. The ship registered as belonging to the governor of Myrthal, so they were waved through without so much as a second look by the planet’s sensors. The ship came down outside a small, dusty little town, even smaller than the Oasis outpost had been.

  Ansaria stood by the craft’s exit. As soon as the ship safely landed, the doors opened, and she was hit in the face by a blast of hot, dry air. A memory floated to the surface of her mind: stepping off her transport for the first time onto Oasis and the nearly identical feeling of dry heat hitting her face. She had hated it the first time she felt it, associating the stifling heat with a suffocating blanket being thrown over her career, but now…it almost felt like home.

  “I figured we could use a little taste of the familiar,” said Slog, who had joined them once the ship was in standby.

  Ansaria smiled as she led her squad on to the planet’s surface. They had landed a short distance from the town, and a smattering of other craft could been seen in every direction, mostly local atmospheric craft but a couple that looked like they could make it into orbit.

  “Slog, did you find out the name of the local watering hole from the ship?” asked Ansaria, as she shielded her eyes from the setting sun.

  “Yes ma’am, it’s called the Black Star.”

  “Sounds like my kind of place. Come on everyone, let’s go meet the locals.”

  The squad made their way into the town. The streets (if they could be called that, since they were comprised of the same dirt and sand that surrounded the town) were still full of people. An atmosphere of excitement filled the air; clearly, the impending arrival of the Emperor was a cause for celebration, even if no one here would ever get anywhere near the monarch.

  The locals were a myriad of species, some Ansaria had had personal experience with, and others she had only learned about during her studies. They drew some curious looks and glances, but no one seemed interested in investigating them more closely. Ansaria figured that they were at least somewhat accustomed to seeing Imperial soldiers.

  The bar was easy to find, firstly because of the great deal of noise coming from it but also because of its large neon sign of a bright blue circle with a black, five pointed star in the center. A little over a dozen beings milled about outside, discussing a variety of things. Ansaria led the way through the crowd into the much larger interior.

  The bar was large, with over two dozen tables scattered around. The entrance was at the top of a short flight of steps that led into the building. To their left, dominating the floor was a stage, currently occupied by a quartet of beings playing a not-unpleasant tune that added to the noise. To their right was the bar that stretched and curved outward along the length of the wall.

  Ansaria turned back to her squad, who were all staring wide eyed at
the crowd. It was clear they wouldn’t all be able to find a place to sit together, so she figured it would be better if they dispersed.

  “All right everyone, go ahead and mingle. Have a drink or two, but keep your comms. open and don’t get plastered. When I say it’s time to leave, we leave.”

  Everyone nodded and headed out in different directions. Alvara made her way toward the stage to be closer to the music, unaware of the dirty look a fellow Gorgonian shot her as she passed. Tread headed to an open spot at the bar, tended by a rather morose-looking android. Slog likewise headed for an opening at the bar.

  Ansaria headed in the same direction, scanning the crowd as she went. Every table seemed to be filled with conversation and it was hard to make out anything amongst all the talk and the music. When she finally reached the bar, Critter, who had been riding on her shoulder, hoped down onto the counter. The bartender approached.

  “What’ll it be, soldier?” he asked. He was Simirian, a large, hulking primate with a prehensile tail holding a bottle while he cleaned a glass with his hands.

  “Let me get an Indigo Lantern and a…” she paused so Critter could tell her what he wanted. “A Pine Needle for my friend here.”

  The bartender nodded before going to work. A moment later he placed the glasses before the two before excusing himself to tend to the other patrons.

  Ansaria took a sip of her drink and practically purred as the cold, sweet liquid filled her mouth. After everything she’d been through over the last few days, the drink tasted like a little drop of paradise.

  Before she could take another drink, Critter suddenly piped up. She turned to look in the direction he was pointing and saw a group of Critter’s people, Woodlings, sitting at a small table on top of a regular table. She nodded at his request and telekinetically lifted her squad mate and his drink through the air and to the table. His kinsman greeted him with a flurry of shrieks and chattering before making space for him.

  Near the stage, Alvara was swaying to and fro in time with the music, an icy blue drink in one hand. She was vaguely aware that she was being watched by interested and possibly antagonistic forces, but for the moment she was content to lose herself to the music. She could handle whatever may come, and she knew that as long as Ansaria and the rest of her squad were here, she’d be fine.