Guerilla

by Mel Odom

  “I shot at them first.”

  “Why would you do that?” Telilu’s voice took on a sharp note of accusation.

  “I wanted to warn them. Someone was about to attack them.” Noojin paused long enough to gather her bow and quiver. Some of the arrows had spilled out, but some remained. She didn’t want to be reduced to her knife if things turned out badly. She wanted to keep Telilu safe.

  “Who would—­”

  The deafening thunder of a close-­proximity explosion blew away Telilu’s question and a sun seemed to dawn on the other side of the house. Hot wind blew through the space between the structures.

  Noojin hunkered down and protected the younger girl as much as she could. Two more explosions followed, each one louder than the last, and long bursts of automatic fire chopped into the rolling detonations.

  Creeping between the houses with Telilu held tightly against her, Noojin stopped at the corner and peered back at the alley where the attack had been launched. Before she could focus through the harsh light spreading in a pool across the ground at the foot of the fence, a man ran into her, knocking her down and coming down on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

  Noojin released Telilu as the girl cried out. Placing herself in front of Telilu, Noojin drew her hunting knife and crouched warily as the man sprang to his feet.

  Even in the scant moonslight, she recognized his blunt features and the burn scarring that mottled his left cheek and turned his ear into a twisted stub.

  “Mosbur.” Noojin held her knife down and ready.

  The man had been a hunter, one of the best trappers she had known. After the ships had come, he had become a guide for the drug cartels and bio-­pirates. Last year he had been brought in wounded, nearly dead. No one had ever learned how he’d been injured, and Mosbur had never told, but everyone suspected it was related to criminal activity.

  Mosbur searched the ground for the pistol he’d dropped during the collision with her, but the blazing light given off by the explosions had night-­blinded him. His outstretched hands raked over the grassy jungle floor and exposed roots of the trees. He cursed her luck and his, and Noojin had no doubts about what he intended to do with the pistol when he found it.

  Another man ran through the alley and nearly plowed into Mosbur.

  “Let’s go!” the new arrival shouted. “The Terrans will be on us!”

  “This girl has seen me!” Mosbur protested.

  The second man turned and clawed for the pistol belted at his waist.

  Before he could get the weapon clear, Noojin grabbed Telilu and fled back between the houses, hoping that she didn’t encounter any more of the ambushers, hoping that the man’s vision wasn’t good enough to allow him to shoot her.

  A laser beam snipped a lock of her hair and the stink of it burning filled her nose. She tightened her hold on Telilu so much that the girl instinctively fought back despite her fear. Noojin tried to think calming thoughts at her, but she was screaming inside her own head and knew that she was failing.

  Ahead of her, twisting flames coiled against the fort’s fence line and the building nearest it was a mass of fiery debris. A shadow came toward her and she spotted the rifle in the gloved hands, picking out the armored soldier carrying the weapon in the next instant.

  “No! Don’t shoot!” Noojin dropped to her knees and covered Telilu with her body, expecting bullets to rip through her at any minute. She remembered to call out again in Terran the second time.

  Another shot from the laser pistol in the hands of Mosbur or his companion struck the armored soldier and burned a bright spot on his thigh near Noojin’s head.

  Autofire ripped out in a steady roll.

  Then the soldier stood before her, towering above her, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

  Noojin almost felt safe, but she didn’t trust the Terrans any more than she now trusted Mosbur and his friends. Her world was never going to be the same. She held onto Telilu and stayed down while the Terran troops set up a defensive perimeter in the area.

  SIX

  X Point

  Southwest of Makaum City

  Loki 19 (Makaum—­colloquial)

  0408 Hours Zulu Time

  Restlessness clouded Sage’s mind as he watched the base on the other side of the swiftly moving river. Almost an hour had passed since Zhoh GhiCemid had disappeared within the structure. Sage wanted to know more because he knew Colonel Halladay would be as frustrated as he currently felt.

  But they were running out of time on the scouting op. Dawn would come in a little less than an hour. They would be hard-­pressed to clear the danger zone without being seen by the drones and the sec systems in that amount of time.

  Jahup touched Sage’s shoulder lightly.

  Sage turned to face the younger man.

  We go? the young scout signed.

  Sage hesitated only a moment before signing his reply. Yes. We go. He hated pulling out with so little information. What they had discovered had only confirmed they had a big problem on their hands, and that knowledge led to more questions. Just as he was about to move away from the tree, Jahup put a hand on his shoulder again.

  Wait.

  Following Jahup’s pointing finger, Sage slid back to the tree and glanced back at the Phrenorian base as the door irised open again. The sec drones pulled in closer to the river and viewed Zhoh’s departure from the base.

  This time Sage noticed the three by three-­square formation of warriors around Zhoh that told him the Phrenorian warrior didn’t exactly have the run of the place. In fact, the Sting-­Tails escorting the captain treated him more like a prisoner than a commanding officer.

  That was interesting.

  The guards walked Zhoh to the riverbank and stood there waiting. After a ­couple moments, a small underwater sled surfaced. The craft hardly caused a ripple in the river due to its streamlined design, and the camo skin closely blended it to the darkness of the water. Only the lack of refraction from the moonslight gave the vehicle slight dimension. It looked vaguely elliptical and rode the current effortlessly.

  Sage identified the sled as a Phrenorian Tonbel-­class submersible that was equivalent to the Terran Navy’s Sea Shadow. The Sea Shadow served as armed transport craft that ferried men and materials in shallow water for assault and support. Like tank crews, the Sea Shadow only carried four personnel on board: a commander, pilot, gunner, and loader. The cargo space was small, but the armament packed a serious punch. It wasn’t designed for sustained firefights, but the presence of the boat indicated that the Phrenorians had more muscle at their fingertips than otherwise believed.

  A hatch swung open upward and a faint hint of light issued forth. Sage guessed the light source was infrared or something in a band that Phrenorians could see that humans couldn’t because the area remained dark to him.

  One of the guards nodded to Zhoh and he boarded the vessel without a word. The door closed and the submersible slipped back into the river and vanished.

  The guards stood there a moment longer, then returned to the base and disappeared within.

  Tensely, feeling exasperated, Sage hunkered down against the tree and kept watch. The Phrenorian base was there, just as Jahup had said it was, but no one knew what purpose it was supposed to serve. The structure was a ticking bomb waiting to go off.

  Minutes passed and Sage put his emotions to one side to concentrate on the exfil from the area. He had some information, not everything he wanted, but enough to initiate a more informed investigation into the matter. He just needed to return with it.

  The sec drones settled into a patrol pattern that was different from the previous one. Guards walked the area too, but they had to work hard not to be seen as well, so they didn’t venture far.

  Sage signed to Jahup, nodding to the nearest sec drone. When that one disappears behind the tree line, we go.
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  Yes. Impatience tightened Jahup’s eyes and turned his mouth into a hard line.

  Slowly.

  Jahup shot Sage a disgusted look and signed back. I’m more worried about you than any mistake I might make.

  If the situation had been any less tense, Sage might have grinned at that. But it was the truth.

  The sec drone cut back behind the tree line thirty meters away and Jahup led the way into the jungle. The young scout’s eyes were better than Sage’s, more used to the environment and operating at night without HUD assistance.

  The young man’s ease with the jungle made Sage realize that he needed to incorporate some training with his soldiers in the brush without the AKTIVsuits. The Phrenorians depended a lot on technology, but they hadn’t gotten away from their roots as independent fighters. Still, Makaum wasn’t a home twenty for them either, and they tended to rely on their tech onplanet. Learning to operate, if necessary, without full military gear on assignment behind enemy lines might give the Terrans an edge at some point.

  Sage stored that in the back of his mind and concentrated on moving through the jungle without making a sound or drawing attention from the drones or the local predators.

  Submersible Ituri

  Yeraf River

  West of Makaum

  5071 Akej (Phrenorian Prime)

  Aboard the submersible, Zhoh kept his anger under control. The boat’s commander wisely elected not to stick his passenger in the cargo section and instead let him ride up front in the control section. That affront, if it had come, would have resulted in someone’s death.

  Outwardly, Zhoh appeared calm. His position as a captain in the Brown Spyrl would allow nothing less. But since the birth of his defective offspring, only disrespect had come his way. If it were not for his family’s standing with the Phrenorian primes—­if not for his standing—­he would have already been dead.

  Lieutenant Yuburack had already attempted to kill him.

  Zhoh rubbed his primary hands together as he remembered killing Yuburack. The chitin claws grated against each other. The lieutenant had been the first being Zhoh had dispatched since being called up on review and his assignment to Makaum. He thought about that for a time, remembered the taste of Yuburack as he’d eaten his conquered foe. There was no greater satisfaction than excreting a vanquished opponent onto a dunghill. There was not enough combat on Makaum. Yet.

  The Terran sergeant was a worthy foe. Sage had proven himself in battle against the DawnStar drug traffickers. The man’s bravery in standing up against Velesko Kos had been impressive. Soon, Zhoh knew, his and Sage’s paths would cross, and that would be the end of the sergeant. Zhoh trusted that.

  However, Zhoh set his sights on a greater game. Perhaps General Rangha believed himself untouchable in his present position, too well dug in to be unseated by an ambitious underofficer because of his family’s history. Zhoh didn’t acknowledge that. Nor would he acknowledge that. A warrior made his own history, and lannig changed everything.

  The submersible’s command section held the four crewmen. The pilot and copilot, the navigator, and the comm officer occupied large chairs in the nose of the craft. Computer projections hung in the air before them and revealed the river’s depth, width, and speed in various colors. They cruised at a depth of five meters below the surface and stayed ten meters above the river bottom.

  Rangha’s base of operations was well thought out. Zhoh conceded that. But it also left the general cut off from the main strength of the warriors. Rangha had not been visible at the legitimate Phrenorian enterprises the Makaum Quass had allowed. Zhoh believed a leader should always be front and center, leading his warriors into battle and spending time with them every day.

  This was something Zhoh realized he shared with the Terran sergeant.

  Despite his current situation, balanced precariously on a sword’s edge between command and contempt, Zhoh remained in front of his warriors. They knew who he was and what he stood for. In spite of his wife’s father’s efforts to undermine his command—­and to have his life taken—­Zhoh had gained support when he’d stood up against the DawnStar bashhounds.

  Zhoh enjoyed that memory, and he started planning how to build on that. He opened a comm link to the submersible commander. “Commander.”

  “Yes, Captain Zhoh?”

  “How long will our voyage last?”

  “We’ll stay with the river for another three hours, Captain. Then we’ll deliver you to a group of warriors who have overseen harvesting efforts in the jungle not far from the sprawl.”

  “What will you do after you see to my delivery?”

  “I can’t tell you that, sir. General’s orders.”

  Zhoh ignored the affront because he knew it didn’t come from the man. He turned his thoughts to Rangha. Before he could form a plan of action, Zhoh needed more information about the general. He opened a private comm link to Mato Orayva, his second-­in-­command, and sent a ping.

  Mato wasn’t just a junior officer and eager for advancement through the ranks, he was also part of Zhoh’s family spyrl. He was young and hungry, wishing to earn glory and advancement through bravery and battle. Getting sent to Makaum hadn’t set well with him either. Like Zhoh, Mato believed he was destined for greater things. Zhoh knew that, properly counseled, Mato would reach his desired position.

  Another warrior’s need to excel was a weapon in the hands of the right superior officer. Zhoh knew how to be that officer, and Rangha had made the situation easier by spilling his dislike of Zhoh over onto his second-­in-­command.

  Before the comm connection was made, a warning light flared to life on the navigation screens.

  “Attention,” the boat commander called out. He stood in the middle of the control center and swayed easily on his feet. “Captain Zhoh, you will want to make certain you’re buckled in. We have attracted the attention of a jasulild.”

  Zhoh recognized the creature from the studies he oversaw at his assigned project. The jasulild was equivalent to a Phrenorian muyec, except that the Makaum creature was not so dangerous. On Phrenoria, warriors braved the depths of the seas to dive into the fanged mouth of a muyec and eat their way free of the creature. Zhoh had done it the first time before he was old enough to be trained as a warrior.

  “Is this a problem?” Zhoh asked.

  “We’re not going to allow it to become one.” The commander’s voice turned steely. “Pilot, course correct eight degrees to starboard and accelerate.”

  “Yes.” The pilot made the adjustments.

  The swift acceleration pushed Zhoh back into his seat. As he watched, the jasulild filled the navigation screen. The creature was round and huge, far larger than anything Zhoh had seen on Makaum. Purple-­blue scales, the coveted hues for a Phrenorian warrior, covered the jasulild. Its mouth opened wide enough to engulf the submersible and only blackness appeared on the other side of the rows of sharp teeth. Zhoh had a new respect for the Makaum fishermen who brought jasulild meat back to the sprawl for vendors to sell.

  With a flick of its tail, the jasulild course corrected as well, easily approaching the submersible in a smooth, effortlessly glide.

  “Captain Zhoh,” Lieutenant Mato said over the private comm link.

  “Give me a moment. It appears we are under attack.” With danger so imminent, Zhoh felt excitement thrill through him.

  “Sir?”

  Zhoh sat forward in his seat and thought about his chances of surviving in the river if the submersible was destroyed. Even though Phrenorians had come from the seas, they were no longer at their best in that element. His primary lesser hand curled around the hilt of the patimong while two lesser hands on his left side prepared to release the seat restraints. His segmented tail coiled restlessly around the seat’s legs.

  “Commander, there are three other creatures nearby,” the navigator called out. “We have
their attention now too.”

  If the commander was worried, he didn’t show it. He remained standing. “Copilot, make a note. We need to find out why these things are massing here.”

  “They’re spawning,” Zhoh said.

  The commander looked at him. “How do you know this?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  The Phrenorian Command kept units separate, compartmentalizing all war efforts so they couldn’t be easily compromised. Zhoh’s current assignment was with the biological weaponization effort. His teams learned the flora and fauna of Makaum so they could use the information against the Terrans and the local inhabitants. They were currently stockpiling a strain of Makaum virus that looked surprisingly lethal. They’d also started inoculating Phrenorian warriors against it so the virus wouldn’t affect them when it was released.

  “If you want to clear the river of them, you’ll need to seed the riverbed with byryj.”

  “What is that?”

  “A type of aquatic kelp. It renders jasulild eggs sterile, as well as other freshwater species. Jasulild and others of their kind can sense byryj and stay away from it during their spawning cycle.”

  “You can get this for me?”

  “I can.”

  The commander nodded. “I would appreciate that.”

  “Of course.” The task was small and easily done, and Zhoh knew the favor could pay off in the future. On the viewscreens, the jasulild grew hugely as it came closer, and the thing opened its mouth still wider.

  “Weapons officer,” the commander said.

  “Yes.”

  “Clear the way.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The submersible was equipped with lasers, solid projectile weapons on the conn for above surface encounters, and torpedoes. It was also equipped with sonic cannons. The weapons officer fired those and generated a wave blast that ripped the lead jasulild to crimson jelly and flotsam that churned in the river. Another two blasts destroyed the other three creatures that swam toward the submersible and the way was clear again. The boat slid through the bloodstained water.