Star Force: Death Knell (SF26)

by Aer-ki Jyr

  Hundreds of Calavari were already on the deck and swarming out various personnel and cargo exits further into the jumpship when the Star Force dropship landed next to a group of slightly smaller troop transports that appeared to have been tightly packed with soldiers, for some were still pouring out a number that seemed to define conventional mathematics for the size of their ship of origin.

  Morgan led her band of 14 out of the eagle and commed the pilot to head back out over to the Red Ranger and wait for them to call for pickup, so as not to keep him sitting in place for hours, if not days, as well as to clear up more deck space for the incoming transports. The hangar the Calavari had chosen to breach wasn’t the largest on the jumpship, so landing space was tight given the number of Nestafar craft already present in the bay.

  As he lifted off the Archons were met by a Calavari trio, one of which stood a head taller than the others. He wore a golden uniform, but with deep red stripes down the arms and legs, on top of which was a thin exoskeleton that looked like it was almost glued to his clothes. It was dull chrome and had small, flat boxes at random points, making up the personal shield generator that their line troops wore into combat in lieu of armor.

  “I am Maka’var. You are Morgan?” he asked, looking to the solitary green set of armor.

  “I am,” she said, transmitting via her external mic given that the Archon armor was completely air tight with a mechanical ventilation system over the lower faceplate that would snap shut at the slightest hint of depressurization or the presence of various known toxins.

  “Initial resistance is light, but widespread. The Nestafar are engaging in a fighting retreat to various strongpoints they’ve set up. I’ve been told that your Archons have a talent for breaching such defenses?”

  “Just point the way,” she offered.

  “How many groups are you comfortable splitting into?”

  “As many as necessary.”

  “Some of the Nestafar are utilizing fragmentation grenades and other crude explosives that our shields will not protect against. Would you be willing to act as skirmishers for our heavy combat teams?”

  “How many do you have?”

  “106.”

  “Pick out your best 14 and we’ll all take one.”

  Maka’var nodded his massive head while one of his companions began issuing orders via a headset. “You will come with me then, Morgan. We will work our way through this hoard together.”

  The trailblazer smiled beneath her helmet where the Calavari couldn’t see, happy that their commander was taking to the fighting personally rather than hiding out in a command center and issuing orders to his ‘subordinates.’ As far as she was concerned, a commander’s place was on the front lines…if he was good enough to lead his men in the first place.

  “The rest, go with them,” Maka’var said as his two companions moved off towards different exits. Morgan flipped her fingers after them and the rest of the Archons split up six and seven and followed them out as the trailblazer followed the taller Calavari, who must have been nearing 8 foot tall, towards the nearest exit where a large group of other troops were staging.

  “Your shields are rated for energy?” Morgan asked.

  “Yes, which will stop the Nestafar’s plasma weapons quite effectively. I have heard your armor fares well?”

  “Green more than the silver and red.”

  “Different grades?”

  “Yes. Mine is heavier than the others. They’re not strong enough to wear it.”

  Maka’var glanced at her. “May I?” he asked.

  Morgan looked at him blankly for a moment until she took his meaning. “Mind the gear.”

  The Calavari walked around the side of her shield and reached his four arms in around her waist and shoulders, then lifted her off the ground with a heave, setting her back down after a moment of evaluation.

  “I’m surprised you can tolerate such weight. How many hits can you take from a Nestafar rifle? I assume your armor is not shielded?”

  “This model isn’t. I can take 8-10 pointblank range hits to the same location without penetration, give or take. The shield, double that.”

  Maka’var smiled. “That is good, very good. No wonder your Archons were so effective on Daka. You will be our little tank,” he said as the other soldiers, all taller than Morgan, parted so their leader and tagalong could pass through their ranks. “Draw them out of hiding and we will slaughter them.”

  “Any prisoners yet?” she asked as a light reminder.

  “No, they are continuing to fall back. I have men continually attempting to make contact with their commanders, offering a surrender, but they are refusing any conversation.”

  “Then let’s motivate them,” she said as they reached the doors to the interior of the jumpship and walked through a short tunnel…immediately seeing a cliff-like drop off into an open air ravine ahead. “Knew I should have brought a jump pack.”

  “We were surprised as well,” he said as bits of plasma fire were visible far down to the left, at the bottom center, and half the distance to the right as other breach teams pushed themselves further into the core of the massive winged ship. “This opening appears to extend the length of the ship, and I would image there is an equally large one on the opposite side.”

  “Climbing gear?” Morgan asked, seeing a few ropes positioned over the side, attached to what she didn’t know.

  “All Nestafar structures have no lifts or stairs. Even their cargo is flown upwards by portable units. Knowing this we came prepared.”

  “Why aren’t they swarming us from the air?” she asked, zooming in on one of the distant engagements. The Nestafar there were taking potshots at the Calavari from nooks in the artificial canyon walls that led into the ‘interior’ areas of the ship, she guessed.

  “We are too good of shots,” he said, gesturing for his weapon. Another Calavari tossed him a rifle, which he grasped in both left arms around the Y-frame design. The two prongs of the ‘Y’ shifted into a small shield covering both arms and hands while the barrel stuck out in front with a small orange light that came on, presumably when Maka’var powered it up.

  “How do you aim at range?”

  The Calavari all around her shifted their arms inside the rifles and small holograms appeared over the barrels, computer synched to be able to fire on distant targets.

  “Sweet,” she said approvingly.

  “They are also variable yield. I believe yours are not?”

  “Nope. I assume the Nestafar aren’t wearing armor or shields?”

  “They never do,” Maka’var all but spat. “They rely on evasion and numbers. In confined spaces where their flight fails them they are vulnerable.”

  Morgan glanced out over the ravine for emphasis. “Which is why I’d expect them to make a stronger stand here.”

  “We suspect there may be an even larger chamber along the spine of the ship,” another Calavari suggested.

  “Are you ready?” Maka’var asked.

  “Where we heading?”

  He pointed down and slightly to the right. “There. We will reinforce an assault team caught in a bottleneck. That’s where they are employing explosives.”

  “No way around?”

  “They’ve closed off numerous passageways,” the other said. “It appears they’ve been preparing for our arrival.”

  “Don’t like the sound of that,” she admitted. “And you are?”

  The medium height Calavari looked down at her. “Chesk’va.”

  “Well, Chesk’va, if we’re ground pounders then that’s where they will have placed all their little surprises. You got any climbing gear to get us up there?” she asked, pointing ahead and up across the ravine to the pockets of little platforms that indented into the chaotic arranged walls.

  “Not unless we scale the far wall. We didn’t anticipate this range.”

  She turned to Maka’var. “If we delay, I can get my people equipment that will allow us to jump across?”

/>   “How long a delay?”

  “Half an hour, tops.”

  The huge Calavari nodded. “Do it. They are prepared for a fight with the Calavari, not Star Force. It is possible they do not know enough about your tactics that you may be able to surprise them.”

  Chesk’va took a step to the side, glancing down into the ravine then back at Morgan as she was making a silent comm call back to the Red Ranger. “What is your race called?”

  “We’re Human,” she answered when finished.

  “What is Star Force then?”

  “The best Humans,” she answered pithily. “The rest don’t get to come out and play.”

  Chesk’va huffed approvingly. “Do you want the rest of us to wait here or position at the entrance?” he asked his superior.

  Maka’var looked down at Morgan. “Can you get one of our lines across to the other side and fasten it at an even or downwards slant?”

  “Fasten with what?”

  The Calavari pointed behind her and the other soldiers moved aside to reveal a heavy box that one of the cables dangling over the edge of the platform was attached to. “It will seal against the floor strong enough to support three of us in normal gravity, and this ship is slightly less than that.”

  “Depends how heavy that thing is.”

  “Less than you,” Maka’var said.

  “It may take a few jumps, but I’ll get it over there,” Morgan promised. “You going to climb across the line? Easy target practice for the Nestafar.”

  “We’ll provide covering fire,” Chesk’va said, hefting his rifle across his chest and tapping on the barrel with his lower right hand.

  “Alright,” she said as a new firefight broke out just below them and to the left. Looking down she could see a red suit of armor leading the way and mowing down two Nestafar with a shotgun as golden plasma streaks zipped by on either side. A tiny spec that was a grenade came flying out towards the Archon…who deftly kicked it back along the floor and into cover where Morgan couldn’t see. An explosion followed and the assault team ran forward, disappearing inside the far wall on the lowest level.

  “Nice one, Carver,” Morgan whispered.

  “His armor weighs less than yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “He moves faster than us in it.”

  “He’s slow compared to me,” Morgan said with a smirk. “That’s why I can wear the heavier armor.”

  Suddenly Chesk’va raised his weapon with the hologram popping up overtop and fired off a blink of a streak of golden plasma across the ravine and nailed a Nestafar just below their elevation on the far side as it started to creep out of one of the depressions that appeared as caves imbedded in the walls.

  “Nice shot.”

  “They are everywhere,” the Calavari warned. “They’d rather attack you from the blindside than face you head on.”

  “So would I,” Morgan pointed out.

  “Warriors stand toe to toe. Cowards slink in the shadows.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow at the insult, then abruptly dropped her shield and pistol a meter in from the edge of the ledge and jump-kicked Chesk’va in the chest, knocking him back into the other Calavari who, caught off guard, barely sustained his weight, else four of them would have fallen to the ground.

  “Don’t call me a coward,” she said icily, standing ready to knock him back down again if required.

  “They may be little,” Maka’var told Chesk’va as he waved off any retaliation before it could happen, “but do not underestimate our allies. The reports I’ve read from Daka indicate they are skilled fighters…and it seems he doesn’t have an issue of standing toe to toe with an opponent.”

  “She,” Morgan corrected him.

  All of the Calavari’s eyes widened in shock. “You…are female?” Maka’var sputtered.

  “A lot of our troops are,” she said, picking up her shield and firearm. “You just can’t tell when we’re wearing armor.”

  “No female is that strong,” Chesk’va challenged.

  “Ugh,” Morgan sighed, leaning her shield against Maka’var and disconnecting her helmet. She pulled it off with her tight, dark ponytail flopping out and her intense brown eyes glaring at Chesk’va.

  “See, I told you,” the Calavari said. “No female is that strong.”

  “What?...hey!” she said, her face scrunching up in displeasure. “I’m totally a girl. Are you blind?”

  “You are male,” Chesk’va insisted. “Why you would pretend to be otherwise is a mystery to me.”

  “Morgan,” Maka’var asked with tentative respect. “You appear as the males we have seen in our records. Your face is the same.”

  “Well not exactly…wait, what do your females look like?”

  “They are half our size with spinal ridge on their heads and very dark skin. You appear the same as the males of your species.”

  “Our differences are internal, so I can understand your mistake,” she emphasized, glaring at Chesk’va as she put her helmet back on and secured the atmospheric lock. “I suppose you don’t let them fight?”

  “They have no wish to,” Maka’var said. “They are pacifistic and totally worthless in combat. Humans are not so, I take it?”

  “We’re even, straight down the line,” Morgan said, feeling the urge to bust up some Nestafar to lay down a proper example. “As for me, I’m the highest ranking Archon…and our ranks are based on strength, speed, and skill. So you could say I’m a little better than the males. I’d give you another demonstration, except that I’d prefer as many allies against the Nestafar as possible, and sending you to the medics wouldn’t help.”

  “You talk like a male twice your size,” Chesk’va said with a hint of respect mixed in with the condensation and disbelief.

  “While we’re on the subject, what’s a Nestafar female look like?” Morgan asked.

  The Calavari exchanged glances. “There are none,” Chesk’va answered petulantly.

  “They reproduce asexually,” Maka’var explained.

  “That…I did not know,” Morgan admitted, mentally kicking herself for not reading the whole Alliance packet. She’d focused mainly on the technology and territory subsections.

  Another Calavari, on the edge of the group to the right, snapped off a rifle shot, followed by two others firing along with him as they backed up a group of Nestafar trying to fly down to a lower level. Two dropped out of the air while the other three retreated back into the nook they came out of as another pair of plasma streaks came up from below.

  “Nice to see you boys can stay alert,” Morgan commented, zooming in on the position for a couple of seconds but seeing nothing. “Which spot are you wanting me to shoot for?”

  “One with as much concealment as possible,” Maka’var said, handing her back her shield. “I imagine many of the Nestafar will show themselves when we establish the connection. We need cover when we reach the far side.”

  “Are you climbing or sliding across?”

  “Whichever is possible.”

  “I mean hands or mechanical?”

  “We will climb by hand.”

  “Slightly down then,” she said, zooming in and searching for a decent spot. “Better get one of the end links over here and show me how to use it.”

  Maka’var thrust his chin out towards the others that Morgan had her back to and one of the smaller ones walked back into the hangar bay to their equipment stash to retrieve the additional gear. As he did so more and more Calavari transports came in and departed, dropping off new segments of their 10,600 troops, all of which moved about in an orderly fashion, organizing into mission groups and deploying as ordered into dozens of assault corridors that pushed the light resistance further away from the hangar…as the Nestafar had anticipated.

  6

  Morgan picked up the end link box for the Calavari climbing cable from beside the stack of her shield and gear and flicked on the jump pack that was strapped around it, preset to ‘level’ mode. Its weight suddenly
decreased and was floating in her hands as she took another step back, looking down the gauntlet of Calavari that had moved off to either side to clear her running space. There were hundreds of them packed around, ready to follow Maka’var and his heavy combat team through to the other side as they waited to see what she was going to do.

  “Here we go,” she said aloud, making sure her snipers waiting beside the edge of the drop off knew she was coming. With a jump of motion she and the box moved forward with Morgan sprinting up to decent speed over the short run-up where she tagged her own jump pack on the chest with her hand…as she did so she long-jumped up into the air, dragging along the box with her right hand, which was buried beneath the straps.

  Her jump pulled her and the box up another two meters before they leveled out, then they coasted across the gap to approximately halfway up the far side, which was more than two football fields away. Her pack’s capacitor drained of energy before the box’s did, and Morgan dropped down hanging from it like a balloon for the last few meters before she came over top one of the landing platforms…only a meter higher than expected. Without her feet touching ground she and the box slammed into the far wall and ricocheted off it, then the other capacitor depleted under the extra heavy burden and dropped Morgan to the ground.

  She caught herself and cradled the box as it landed on her chest, dumping it aside as movement nearby caught her attention. The Archon reached down to her hip holster for her plasma pistol, but before she could get it a pair of golden streaks flashed by over her head and killed the Nestafar coming out of the side passage near to where she’d just hit the wall.

  Morgan spun over onto her feet and darted forward, shooting a thin blue plasma lance into another Nestafar before running forward and kicking it back the way it had come. With no more in immediate sight she turned around and ran back over to the box, pulling the jump pack off and setting it upright before triggering the adhesive grapple function that sucked it down tight to the floor.