The Tenth Awakens (Maraukian War Book 1)

by Michael Chatfield

  “Come on, you Maraukian fucks!” Signifer Luis Jarek snarled through the net as the legions came together, their M19’s tracers focused on the hole the Maraukians were barging in. Even the naturally armored Maraukians weren’t able to withstand that kind of firepower as they were pushed backward.

  Sarah saw everything was coming together finally as the surviving sensors on the exterior of the wall pinged a herd commander. She sent the information to her user’s HUD.

  “The hell is that?” Mark studied the image even as he continued to fight. He was looking at a larger than normal Maraukian using all six of its limbs to move, with a massive cannon mounted on its back.

  As fast as he thought, Sarah knew, the information already part of his memories. Each herd commander was in charge of two hundred fanatically loyal normal Maraukians. Some of them might work together against a target. They would lead their herds from place to place, killing any humans in their path and grouping together with other herds that had come into contact with defenses, or rush toward where a herd had been killed off. They were barely smarter than the Maraukian normal, but able to somehow communicate with one another.

  “Commander bearing on the breach!” a legionnaire yelled, just as the commander opened up with its cannon. As if a guiding light, every Maraukian that could fire did so, not caring as they killed those in their own herds.

  The rounds ripped through the back of the Maraukians in the breach and ricocheted off the shield wall.

  “Brace!” Tesserarius Michales demanded. Plasma blasts and rockets smashed against the opening, blowing in dust and debris. The walls broke, killing Maraukians.

  The shields behind the wall shook with impacts. A legionnaire fell under the onslaught, yelling out as they were launched backward.

  “Cover that hole!” Signifer Jarek barked as a legionnaire pushed up into take their position.

  “Advance!” Michales said. The shield wall pushed forward under the impacts. Another legionnaire was hit by an explosion that got behind his shield, killing him and wounding those on either side of him.

  All three were pulled backward; replacements stepped over them as the line advanced.

  The medicos looked after them, but there was no time for the shield wall to pause.

  Michales grunted as his carbon hendral shield was hit by a missile. Even made of the strongest material known by Roma, it was still marked and scarred.

  “Ready those anti-matter grenades for the area around the breach! Shrapnel into the Maraukians!”

  When his people got back to him, showing green on his HUD, he reported, “Ready on this end!”

  ***

  “Good. Sending artillery fire plan.” Sarah transmitted to Mark as well as Michales.

  “Requesting fire support at section echo-one-fiver. Fire plan transmitted. Green up if confirmed coordinates,” Mark said.

  “This area has a breach in it. If we were to fire this close, it would kill everyone inside the wall,” the signifer running the acceleration tube park said.

  “Let me worry about that. We will transmit fire orders once breach is sealed.”

  “Solid copy. Will only fire if breach is confirmed sealed.”

  “Understood. Wait out.”

  “Michales, we need to seal that wall if they’re going to shell the Maraukians!” Mark yelled. His eyesight got hazy and his reactions slowed down as he fought to retain clarity. His body felt as if it were breaking down under the stress.

  “Shield wall advance!” Tesserarius Michales ordered everyone in the shield wall.

  “Who the fuck gave you authority?” someone said.

  Sarah was still connected to the net. As he was about to jump down their throat, Michales did it for him.

  Morale had broken earlier and it was clear some people weren’t ready to charge back into the fighting.

  “Shut the fuck up there, Legionnaire. You were given a fucking order and you WILL carry it out.” Even through the modulated tones of the net, you could hear the anger, desperation, and fear in the tesserarius’s voice.

  “I better not hear anything out of you again there, Legionnaire,” Signifer Jarek said.

  Shrapnel bomblets dropped among the Maraukians, turning everything behind the wall and fifteen meters in front of it into a blue bloody mess. It had taken all of their shrapnel bomblets; there would be no do-overs. Sarah and her user took over the unused weapon systems on the wall and fired into the Maraukian lines. It was a drop in the bucket but they just needed a few seconds.

  “Anti-matter grenades!” Michales yelled.

  The unknown man threw his vibro-blades into Maraukians in the way before he jumped backward, covering Ava and her patient closest to the breach.

  The temperature inside the breach soared as the wall liquefied, including part of the man’s armor.

  “Push forward. Interlock shields and push it into the sides of the breach. Signifer Jarek, take a third of our people and block the secondary breach,” Michales ordered, back into the groove of things.

  Catches along the sides of the shields locked them to one another as they kept walking, unable to see until they hit the liquefied wall, which was tacky.

  “Release, move back. Fire remaining. To seal with the wall,” the man said.

  “We have a temporary seal in place, good for artillery.” Sarah updated the artillery signifer.

  “Understood. Firing for effect.”

  The 480mm accel tubes fired their munitions from deep within the camp, hammering anything from the breach to five hundred meters out, leaving a glassy, bluish hell that barely held back the Maraukians.

  “Why do I not hear heavy weapon systems firing, people?” Mark’s words seemed to get everyone moving once again as they realized they weren’t out of the fight yet.

  Sarah transmitted it to everyone in the sector. Even though they were tired, they picked themselves up and ran to the firing ports, checking their remote weapons, replacing what could be replaced.

  The fire support stopped. Sarah connected Mark to the accel tubes signifier. “That’s it; we’ve only got a limited supply of munitions currently.”

  “Understood. Appreciate the assist.”

  “No problem. Fire support out.”

  Sarah opened a net with Ava.

  “Now, would you mind getting off me? I need to look over my patients.”

  “Ah, yes, ma’am.”

  Sarah used anti-grav to toss him backward as he turned. His back was tight from the anti-matter melting his back some.

  “Your back has severe burns. Your muscles and joints are under severe stress. Also, your brain’s temperature is dangerously high,” Sarah informed him.

  “Well, shit. Can you do anything about this limited maneuverability part?”

  “Replacement suit is in transit, with new rifle and swords as well as engineers to fix the breach and weapon systems.”

  “Damn, nice thinking.”

  “I didn’t think of anything. You did, actually, and I anticipated your request to do so.”

  “Huh. Still, good job.”

  “Thanks. Tesserarius Michales wishes to speak with you.”

  “Connect.”

  “Who are you?” Tesserarius Michales asked on a private net.

  “Someone who’s going to get your asses out of the fire.” He looked at the readouts Sarah sent to his HUD about the structural integrity of the improvised shield wall.

  The medico jumped onto the net. “Thank you for saving me and my patients.” Then she exited the net as fast as she’d joined.

  “So why did you help us?”

  Mark didn’t know what to say. He didn’t owe these people anything but still he’d stepped up in order to aid them.

  “Reinforcements and resupply coming in,” came over the general net, thankfully giving Mark an escape.

  Michales turned back to his people, now firmly in his role. His people followed his orders swiftly, grabbing ammunition and parts and returning back to their positions as fast a
s possible. There, among the ammunition, was another black coffin.

  Michales sensed Mark didn’t want to tell him everything.

  He laughed, pushing it to the side. “I’d just like to say thank you. I was floundering there for a bit. Our optio and centurion were killed just before you showed up and we were all thinking we were going to die today. Thanks for everything. Without you, I don’t think we’d be able to pull together and survive,” Michales said.

  “Trust yourself and your people. Build them into the team they need to be. They might not like it, but afterward it could save their lives.” Mark tried to impart some of the lessons he had learned when leading men and women into battle.

  He moved to the black coffin that was a bit farther away from the ammunition and other gear, leaving Michales with his own thoughts.

  Sarah opened it as he faced it and then his own, releasing the connections as he walked out of his and into the other. He put the sword on and checked the M19, grabbing as much ammunition as he could carry before he transferred his old suit into the coffin.

  ***

  Legatus Pullo looked over his command center; it was in the layout of a ship command center. All of the reclined workstations looked in toward a central hologram projector showing the map of Camp Epsilon with symbology covering it.

  “Sir, there’s something strange happening at section bravo-one-niner,” one of the wall controllers said over a private net, talking NIAI to NIAI—which meant he’d just thought it to Pullo, who didn’t think he was ever going to get his head around that little fact.

  He pressed the forward button on his chair as it tilted backward and pushed him forward so he was underneath his holographic interface. “Send it.”

  Pullo’s face was solemn. It seemed he was watching the end of a century under his command. His eyes flickered as a man charged in out of nowhere. He shook his head, expecting the man to die. His eyes widened as the man not only ran into the Maraukians but fought them hand-to-hand. And he was not only killing them, but he did it in a manner that made them seem as if they were nothing but children waving sticks around.

  Pullo focused the optical sensors on the suit that had defended the medico. It stood at nearly eight feet, its back now solidified into a single piece of armor as the user stepped out.

  “What the fuck!” Pullo nearly yelled, leaning forward in his seat as he looked at the seven-and-a-half-foot mountain of a man as he stepped out of the broken suit into a new one.

  Pullo queried his NIAI. “Is that Mark Victor? Old Private Mark Victor?”

  “I do not have that information at this time,” his NIAI reported.

  “Does this have anything to do with the missing NIAI unit and suit with the disabled group in the supply shuttle? Might this be the same man who escaped the space legion ship Liberator that went to Earth? The man Nerva is looking for?” Pullo’s excitement was building.

  “With extrapolation, it seems it would be likely,” his NIAI reported.

  “All right, give me a channel to that suit.”

  Dutifully, his NIAI obeyed.

  “Private Mark Victor, is it really you?”

  “Who the hell is this?” The man’s familiar voice made Pullo break out into a smile.

  “That any way to greet your dear Sergeant Pullo?” Pullo laughed.

  “You’re shitting me. Pullo? I thought you were dead?”

  “Well, technically I am. Got pulled out from Sacremon, really fucked up—took them some time to put me back together.” Pullo sighed, casting his mind back to that time. To him, it had been decades ago; however, Mark had been traveling thirty percent the speed of light, and put into stasis between systems. To him, it had been five wars across five star systems ago.

  “What the hell is this place? What unit is this?” Mark asked.

  “It’s not an EMF unit. I can’t tell you much more than that.”

  “You know how much I hate secrets.”

  “I know, I know, but there’s a lot you need to know. Going to need some time to take you through it all.”

  “Good to finally find someone I know,” Mark said. The relief in his voice was clear.

  “Before we meet up, I need your opinion. What do you think of Tesserarius Michales? Do you think he’d be ready to take command?” If Pullo trusted anyone in the galaxy, it was this man. He’d place his life in his hands without a second thought; he’d done it multiple times before.

  “It just took some shock in the beginning but he’s filling into the role quickly. He’s already got the chain of command sorted. He’s jumping right in and isn’t worried about getting his hands dirty and it seems like he’s got a solid core to fall back on.”

  “All right. I’m going to place you in an attached advisory position.”

  “Sarge,” Mark agreed.

  “I really need someone on this next mission with them. I trust them, but I’d feel better with you there to back them up.” Pullo put his cards on the table.

  “I’ll help them,” Mark promised.

  “Thank you, Mark. Cutting him in now.” Pullo became serious. He would be giving Michales not just one rank higher, but jumping him up to a second rank higher than he’d been before. That wasn’t just a little bit of extra pressure.

  “Tesserarius Michales, as of now you are receiving a battlefield promotion; you are now raised to the rank of Centurion. I wish it was under different circumstances and that Centurion Alwas was still with us. May he go with the gods.”

  “Yes, sir,” now-Centurion Michales said, harshly clearing his throat. “Sir, do you know who the man is who saved our asses?”

  “His name is Evocatus Mark Victor. I have served along with him many times and he’s kept my hide alive more times than I could count. I’m placing him in an attached advisory role. Whether you take his advice or not is up to you but he’s still pretty good with a weapon.”

  “Thanks, Pullo,” Mark said dryly, checking his weapons over by ingrained reflex, Pullo could see through his optical feeds.

  “I’m moving you back to the staging area. Get some rest and be ready. I think you’re going to be busy rather quickly.”

  “Sir.”

  “Good luck; and Mark, I expect a full report when you’re ready.”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  Pullo closed down the net, leaving the two to organize the turnover with their reinforcements and pull their people back.

  ***

  “Woo-hoo! Close security on Bellona Company, boys and girls!” Optio Danny “Dodger” Reckhi proclaimed as his NIAI uploaded the mission details on his HUD. His original century of ten eight-legionnaire contuberniums had been turned into seven contuberniums, totaling fifty-two legionnaires and his signifer. The Tesserarius had been killed as well as the centurion who’d been trying to be a hero.

  Reckhi had gotten his nickname in basic, always seemingly avoiding getting kicked out by the skin of his teeth, combined with the fact he ran everywhere, and it’d stuck ever since. Still dodging getting released by the skin of his teeth—not because he wasn’t a brilliant soldier but with enough alcohol in his system, he nearly had no filter and was prone to talk about people who got their positions based on who their family was, rather than their actual ability. The fact most of these people had positions high above him was his downfall.

  At a hundred and fifty-eight years old, he was still as fast as ever, one of the oldest optios in history, and still shoved his boot firmly in his own mouth from time to time. Recently he’d gotten demoted yet again from centurion. It wasn’t his fault the legate he’d taught fifty years prior as an evocatus was still a little shit and had the tactical ability of a dog chasing its own tail.

  The NCMs and enlisted loved him but the majority of high-ranking officers hated him. But even they had to admit if they needed nearly any question answered, it was always: “Someone get me fucking Reckhi, and make sure he’s sober.”

  Even though he’d been demoted constantly over the course of his career, Reckhi wasn’t un
happy at all. He hated dealing with paperwork and he’d be held back to oversee the battle rather than be on the frontline of it. No, thank you. He’d much rather jump on a Bellona tank charging Maraukian herds any day of the year with a grin and enough ammunition to ruin anyone’s day.

  His thoughts were focused on the report his friend Luis Jarek in the Death Dealers had sent him. It painted an interesting picture of Jarek’s unit having their collective asses pulled out of the fire by a guy called Mark Victor.

  Jarek had said Mark could give Dodger a run for his money. Reckhi muttered darkly about showing certain young know-it-alls about the finer points of close combat. To which Jarek had muttered about youngsters having to go easy on seniors because of their advanced age and quickly signing off the net before Dodger could reply. Dodger was looking forward to the match—if they survived the Bellona run, that was.

  He grinned as he and the rest of his men joined the Death Dealers.

  “Hey, where’s Jarek at, the little shit?” Dodger said over the public net.

  “Who’s calling who a little shit, you damn bamboo pole!” Jarek, standing at six foot five and with a mountain of muscle underneath his armor, jabbed an armor-covered finger at Dodger.

  They clasped wrists as the Death Dealers and the Ape Killers, Dodger’s centuria, greeted one another in their own ways.

  “Optio Reckhi, is that you I hear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Reckhi said, faithfully checking Centurion Michales’s new rank. He sighed. Centurion Alwas had been a good man; the end always came too soon for the good ones.

  “All right, Dodger. I’m new as hell to this. You know what’s going on or have a plan?” Michales asked.

  “We’re running security on the Bellona, sending you the roster for where your people are going.” He gave Michales a few minutes to scan the information. “Questions?”

  “None,” Michales confirmed.

  “All right. Well then, let’s get everyone loaded up on ammo. Nothing like a good Bellona ride!”

  “Crazy bastard. All right, we’re moving out in twenty,” Luis added.