The Tenth Awakens (Maraukian War Book 1)

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The Tenth Awakens (Maraukian War Book 1) Page 19

by Michael Chatfield


  “Though I thought I’d do this personally.” A holographic scroll appeared in his hand; the other made a barely noticeable stand up flick. Captain Chen stood immediately at attention.

  “Captain Chen, upon being released from questioning, you are to assume command of the battleship Moby. Do you accept?” Under Rael’s gaze, Chen felt like he was being assessed every second.

  From stealth shuttle, straight to battleship was a huge jump, surpassing a destroyer captain and second-in-command.

  “Yes, sir!” He didn’t hesitate.

  “She needs repairs and only has a barebones crew picked for her. I hope you can incorporate your people into your new command. I give you the roster for the battleship and leave that up to you.”

  Captain Chen couldn’t believe it: he was getting his own ship and he could keep his people.

  The fact that Admiral Nessa said he needed to fix up the ship himself, he felt that it meant they would need to be in the shipyards and there was no help to be found.

  All he could say was, “Yes, sir,” again, not wanting to miss this opportunity. He looked, stunned, at the admiral placing the holographic scroll in his hand as he saluted, a twinkle in the admiral’s eyes.

  Damus stood, a grin on his face. “Charles told me to tell you not to worry. He’s having a look into the Moby.”

  “I doubt he’s doing it for any other reason than he wants to mess with another ship, sir,” Chen said dryly, realizing afterward what he’d said and came more rigidly to attention than before.

  Damus laughed. “A man who speaks his mind! If you don’t want him, Dominik, I’ll take him! But I don’t doubt you’re right on that one, Captain Chen. Get some rest. We’ll try to hold them off for a bit and get this all wrapped up. We’re going to need people like you very soon, I’m sad to say.” Everyone in the room nodded grimly.

  Chen made to salute as they left; the admiral waved it away. “Get some rest, dammit. That’s an order!” Nessa said, a faint smile on his lips as he sealed the hatch after him.

  “A battleship, a freaking battleship!” Carla said in wonder.

  “It does look that way, second.”

  “Yes, Captain, sir!” Carla came to attention.

  The room dissolved in chaos as he opened the scroll, looking to the section of crew and open spots. His old crew looked at the list as he named off positions for them all and they ran around like giddy children.

  The Moby was an old ship. It had seen a dozen battles and had been pivotal in saving the planet Akaresh. It was because of those actions it had been kept running for so long.

  She was an older ship—heavy armor, big cargo area and big weapons. Not as many or as sophisticated as the current battleships, but she could take a pounding and those guns were nearly twice as powerful as a Bellona’s anti-barge gun.

  Chen had to order them to sleep or he’d take away their new positions. Now they just had to get through the questioning.

  Chapter 28

  Camp Epsilon

  Tricticus, Emarl system

  6/3352

  Evan didn’t know when he’d been more tired. They’d gone through fifty-two battles nearly continuously, only pausing to do an AAR and a smattering of sleep and food here and there. He no longer knew the time or the day, just the battles—which he only knew because his NIAI updated his count.

  Their mandatory legion soldier upgrade package meant they hadn’t needed much sleep yet.

  He sipped food through his ration straw and leaned against the table in the small camp’s mess. His suit fresheners failed badly at trying to remove the smell of old air and sweat. He had grown used to the smell by now as he looked around through his sensors.

  Already half of the candidates were gone. Still, two hundred sat at tables, numbly checking their suits and their rifles, eating as they’d been ordered to by Mark. Rachel, Freusht—whose first name turned out to be Mikael—and Polwell—first name Davis—sat around him. They’d all become fast friends since the first battle. They’d also all become the instructors’ seconds.

  Evan had learned to pick out the instructors by now: they’d only died once. Other than the one time, they’d failed to get a major injury or seemed in much danger. Someone had argued they were cheating but Mark had pulled up the settings, showing them all they were on the same physical level as them. Yet somehow, they survived through the impossible with seeming ease.

  Evan could already see the differences: no one wasted effort on anything that wouldn’t help them in battle, people were already adapting to those around them and becoming a better unit faster than he’d seen before—out of necessity and survival instead of want.

  The instructors were asking a lot and he saw they knew it too, but there they were slogging it out alongside him and the rest of the candidates. He likened it to the forging of a smith creating a blade: the candidates were the metal, the hammers were the instructors and the Maraukians the anvil they both smashed into.

  If there was a kink with the candidates, it threw the instructors off; they constantly and unrelentingly drove on, thumping the candidates against the Maraukians in battle and making them have to adjust continuously.

  “You know what I’ve realized?” Evan said to his group, having had enough to eat without overeating. The instructors had harped on the importance of using the net, making everyone use it instead of talking for weeks. It had become more natural to communicate that way. The candidates had also found they could speak much faster through the net and pass images from one to another; they’d been getting faster and faster, communicating and passing information at an alarming rate.

  “What?” Rachel sighed.

  “We’ve stopped using shields completely.”

  “Yeah,” Mikael said, “we have. I never really noticed but the shield slows us down when we need to deploy and with the trench charges, we can get cover in seconds and carry more ammunition.”

  “Strange, isn’t it? The first thing we’re taught when we join the legion on our basic at eighteen is that your shield wall is everything—without a shield between you and a Maraukian, you’ll be dead. By all rights, we should be dying more without the cover. Though our survival rates are increasing for those not using shields.”

  “Shows this isn’t like any other unit we’ve ever seen. They definitely want to fight face-to-face,” Davis rumbled. “The tactics don’t leave room for anything else.”

  “Yeah.” Rachel sighed tiredly. “For right now, it’s adapt or die.”

  “Exactly.” Evan stood after Mark rose. “Looks like it’s time for another battle.”

  They checked over themselves by reflex: from rifle and ammunition, to their swords and systems check. There would’ve been a time before when they would just ask their NIAIs. Sometimes, though, the instructors told the NIAIs to give the wrong messages and it was always better to be safe than sorry. After the first time experiencing it, everyone had died, including the instructors—for the one and only time—when everyone had diminished ammunition supplies.

  Their world changed to the starting screen before the battle.

  “We’ve got to attack this Maraukians birthing ground here and move past to create a new defensive line. There will be minimal support—they’ll be expecting us. Their strength is estimated to be five full herds. That’s seven thousand for you people who can’t do math. Let’s move out. Arrowhead formation,” Mark said as they walked out, already setting down orders.

  Chapter 29

  Camp Epsilon

  Tricticus, Emarl system

  7/3352

  “It’s time,” Mark said.

  All of the instructors looked at one another, nodding.

  “Let’s let them get rested,” Ava said. “And get into the real world, with real food and showers. I know I need one.”

  “I was about to say the same thing.” Dodger sniffed and screwed his face in mock disgust, to the laughs of the others and Ava’s icy eyes.

  “All right then.” Mark got his own laughin
g under control. “Let your people know.” They disappeared from the room; Mark left last as he appeared outside of the recruit’s quarters. There were only forty-four recruits left. He opened it; everyone snapped to attention. Mark’s lips twitched as a table and the cards on it were flipped by the players still holding their card-filled hands at the side.

  “Julian, I can see you looking at Trei’s cards there.”

  Trei’s hand moved closer to his leg and he gave Julian, who went red, a dirty eye.

  “At ease.” The room turned to Mark, expectant; some looked to their gear stored beside their racks. “All right, get some rest. You have two days off. I would suggest sleeping. After the two days, we’re going to the real world. And get some food and a damn shower.”

  This elicited wary smiles from everyone.

  “I’m not shitting you. You will not be active in the next few days. Use the base as you desire. Questions? Evan?”

  “Sir, are we going to be asked if we want to go through with the upgrades or not?”

  “Yes. I was going to ask you after the two days’ rest here.”

  “Sir.”

  “Well, pine over if you really want that. Pass it onto the people who want to know. Anyone else?” Seeing there wasn’t, he continued. “All right, as you were then.” He left their room then, transporting himself to his own room with the other instructors, as he got down to the essential business of getting some shut-eye.

  After their two days’ rest, they were assembled in the simulation room. Mark and the training team showed their real faces, without the coloring they used to appear human.

  “Now it is time to make the biggest decision of your life. To become something other than a human, something that may not be able to reproduce children and all of it might just be to die in battle.” He waited, watching them as they remained stoic. Was there a flicker in one or two eyes? Mark wasn’t sure. “Though you will have a vanguard of hundreds of thousands and you will have a family with the Elves who come through this to your left and right. Are you ready to sacrifice your human bodies to become Elves?”

  Forty-four stepped forward.

  Chapter 30

  Camp Epsilon

  Tricticus, Emarl system

  7/3352

  In the military, everyone is part of a tribe: their branches are like the sons of the tribe leader; the specific legions like their litter of children; the centuria the actual village; the contubernium the house; and the fire team partners the married couple. Everyone was competing against everyone else, either officially in events or unofficially in brawls. Then there was supporting groups, such as engineers and artillery, who thought of their branch brethren were their idiot cousins while the actual legionnaires thought they were like their sissy little nieces. Thus the military fought constantly among themselves. But if one of the tribe was attacked, the ranks closed and the rivalries stopped—or at least put on hold till later.

  Those standing in the main and only hangar of the base were far removed yet essential to that structure.

  They were the vanguard. Sure, the rest of the tribe exacted an unholy toll against any that attacked, but the vanguard led them: they made the initial kill, they started battle first and ended it, and the vanguard decided the battle. It had no room for fluff, none of that softness in other parts of the tribe; if they were to fall, then the tribe would fall. They were the most disposable, and the most valuable at the same time.

  They were from the military tribe; they looked over it like an adoring brother might. They made fun of the units and of one another but when they were attacked, they didn’t close ranks. They charged the stupid bastards who attacked them. Any challenge they’d accept not to prove themselves but to show others what they couldn’t do.

  Evan stepped forward, mentally saying yes as forty-three of his brothers and sisters did likewise.

  Mark looked around the room and for the first time fully grinned. “Well, looks like you’re all stupid bastards like me.”

  Not one person had opted out. Every single one felt pride in their chests unlike any they’d felt when graduating their military schools and finally getting the approval from their instructors. This was being accepted into what they wanted more than anything in the universe, the unmentioned vanguard.

  “Welcome, my fellow Elves,” he said.

  Everyone received an information packet; they hit Accept and their worlds changed.

  Evan closed his eyes to the sim world as he found the tingling sensation and he knew it was his connection to Julie, his NIAI, accessing it directly. It spread as his brain seemed to open. Thoughts, emotions, and information flashed through Evan’s mind as he breathed, unable to understand the enormity of it.

  So this was merging. His thoughts now connected to Julie in a way indescribable in any tongue he knew. Everything was the same but completely changed.

  He wasn’t done yet, he thought as he stepped up to a nanite tank and laid down in the nanites.

  ***

  Mark, just like all of the instructors, felt when another person had merged. It was one of the unexpected side effects. They had found out that they always knew where another merger was, like a sixth sense.

  Unguarded thoughts cascaded through the net, including emotions and feelings. Other Elves could feel those emotions and feelings but they couldn’t explain how. When Evan, the first new merger, joined the net, it was as though a light bulb which was previously unknown and unlit now were a bright flare. He was excited, interested, and scared as he came out from the nanite tank. The instructors felt his embarrassment as he realized he wasn’t feeling just his own emotions as he looked at the instructors smiling back at him. He quickly figured out how to control his output of emotion as there were now mirrors in the middle of the sim room, which he used to study himself. He now stood a half foot taller; his muscle density matched his new height and he had the telltale veins of the now nanite-plasma running through his veins and the electric eyes. He could feel the changes within his body hidden from the eye. He hadn’t realized how much Mark and the other instructors had changed that the recruits hadn’t been able to see.

  “Welcome to the merger net,” Mark said as everyone came out of the simulation tanks and their nanite layer changed to match the black fatigues of the instructors. “Everything you think, we can understand, so now you have to remember to turn off your net when you’re thinking of something personal. It will be strange at first but will quickly become second nature.”

  Mark’s grin widened as many faces turned a strange color of red. Might be something to tell others about to merge. But where’s the fun in that? Mark gave Ava a side glance.

  “Now the first thing you might notice is the ability to feel others’ feelings and the like. Yes, it’s strange but don’t worry—it becomes normal after a while.

  “Now, some ground rules for our little outing. First, no one is to actually merge. Everyone’s way to merge is different but just refrain from doing so or I’ll run you through sim training at eight times speed now your bodies can handle it. Also, put restrictions on yourself—don’t want you breaking everything.” Mark watched as everyone applied restrictions on themselves. The instructors greened up as they checked their people to make sure they were good.

  “All right, by contubernium, lead on. Let’s get you ready for equipping the Pluto-powered armor.”

  Chapter 31

  Camp Epsilon

  Tricticus, Emarl system

  7/3352

  Centurion Michales looked up from his data pad as the cafeteria went quiet. Everyone in the room stared at the fifty people who entered the room. Each stood over seven feet, with muscular frames easily seen against their black uniforms with purple lining.

  Jarek now towered over his normal height of six five, adding an extra foot to that. Ava was the second tallest, standing at near eight feet. Michales knew they would all change through the body mod they needed to become able to merge but knowing it and seeing it was two different things. Th
ey looked like the Olympian gods of war, their skin like marble cut with silver veining. They didn’t search the room but Michales had a feeling they were watching every inch of it already.

  The candidates got their food with Ava, Mark, Jarek, Chyna, and Dodger sitting among them. Michales could see rank was nearly nonexistent. They followed someone because they felt respect and loyalty to them. Not because of their rank or the years they put in.

  The candidates sat where the commanders with similar skills or complementing skills sat. Groups formed around them, which gathered around Mark. It reminded Michales so much of a family instead of a military unit; it was strange.

  Michales noticed how quiet the room was as everyone stared at the course, not opening their mouths except to eat. But from the facial expressions, it seemed they were talking. From the rapid changes of their faces, he doubted what they were saying was slow enough for any human to understand.

  They ate their food in bare minutes, getting seconds, thirds, even fifths in some cases.

  Then, as suddenly as they’d entered, they left, filing back out and leaving the mess as if they’d never existed.

  “Well, they’re different,” Alexandra said.

  “That’s for sure,” Michales said thoughtfully, eating some eggs. “It’ll be interesting to see what they’re like in two weeks.”

  ***

  “All right, two months left. Do your best and adapt. First, we’re going to do a series of tests to prove the new abilities to you and then we’re back to battle, moving up in armor until you can handle using Pluto-powered armor while merged. Now with that, let’s go for a run.”

  Training continued as Mark sprinted fifteen kilometers. The others kept up, breathing a little heavily as they learned what their new bodies could do. Then, as the training staff had done what seemed like a lifetime ago, they pushed their new bodies past imagined limits and kept going.

 

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