“Thanks to what you are providing, we have been able to strike back. We are still losing ten for every one of theirs. But that is acceptable, as long as we are able to strike back. Nothing raises the spirits like the death of a hated foe.”
“Glad to be of service,” said Sergiov, not sure how she felt about the loss ratio. It wasn’t something that would make her feel good, but then, she wasn’t a Maurid, and historically guerilla campaigns were very one sided in exchange ratios. “And please keep us informed of any new developments.”
The holo died, leaving the spy alone with her own thoughts. She hated what the Cacas were doing, and really did wish that she could bring the Maurids immediate aid. But rushing in like a bunch of headstrong fools was not the smartest decision the humans could make. So far they had beaten the Cacas by outthinking them, and planning strategy based on emotions was not the way to win.
“Get me the Emperor,” she said into the com net, waiting the few moments it took to make a connection, hoping that he wasn’t involved in priority business. Almost wishing that he was.
“Your Majesty. I have news from Kallfer. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
* * *
The shuttle swung in the air overhead, moving at three times the speed of sound at altitude. Particle beams stabbed down, and four Maurid guerillas converted to partial charred bodies as superheated red tinted steam rose over the corpses. The shuttle turned again, searching for the targets it had been sent to kill. The Maurids that had hit a ground patrol through the dense forest that had run into an ambush.
Striped Wolf sighted in on the shuttle with the launcher, the small pop up holo sight blinking as it optically locked onto the target. The heat sensor chimed in a moment later, followed by the notification that the other nearby launchers were also ready. They were in the hands of other Maurids, swinging through their firing arcs by their control. But the control of the shot was in his hands.
The Maurid pushed the firing stud and the rocket was propelled out of the tube by electromagnetic acceleration, flying out to a safe distance before engaging its powerful grabbers. Accelerating at several thousand gravities, it streaked toward the gunship, its three companions moving on parallel courses.
The gunship was well protected with defensive lasers. If there had only been one rocket the shuttle would have come through with no problem, the weapon blasted out of existence. Even a pair wouldn’t have made it through the defense. With four, and less than a second to engage, it only took out two, the other pair slamming into the hull at hyper velocity and their warheads exploding in jets of penetrating fury. A secondary explosion ripped through the shuttle, which turned over onto its back, then sped nose first into the forest. A ball of rising fire marked the impact point.
“Let’s move,” said Striped Wolf, collapsing his empty launcher and starting off into the woods. The tube could be rearmed, or a new tube attached the the aiming and firing system. At the moment it was useless, and soon there would be more shuttles in the air. These would have to be more cautious, though, lest they suffer the same fate as the last. That had been the point of the ambush of the shuttle. Downing one really didn’t matter. Making the others cautious did.
The group, sixty-two warriors, males and females, made their way through the forest, under the canopies of dense trees. It might not have been a true Maurid world. The vegetation was the wrong color, the sounds of avian and land dwellers wrong, the scents off. Since Mrrarraras had lived most of his life on this planet, everything seemed natural to his hunter’s senses. He hadn’t been back here for years, not since the masters had assigned him to an intelligence assignment in the human Empire. Having visited the real homeworld he knew what it was supposed to be like, but that was the alien world to him, not this one.
Here the trees soared to the sky, hundreds of meters into the air, with thick canopies trapping the sunlight before it reached the ground. The low light vision of the Maurids was perfectly adapted to these conditions, their sharp ears brought in every sound, their sensitive noses every familiar scent. This was their world as much as the original homeworld, and the Cacas were going to kill it. To the Maurids that was a greater crime than killing them off. If the Cacas had wiped out the entire population of the world it would have been a crime. Wiping out a planet that the people saw as their hunting grounds was a sin beyond description.
The party only had one goal after the downing of the shuttle, and that was to make it home to the safety of the cave. Unfortunately, they couldn’t ignore the sounds of a Caca squad stumbling through the forest.
“If they were smart, they would stay in the cities and force us to come to them,” whispered one of the other Maurids, using tones that blended in with the sounds of the forest, the whistles and clicks of the hunting language.
“Good thing they think with their pride, and not the poor brains in those thick skulls,” replied Mrrarraras, looking off in the distance to try and catch a glimpse of the invaders, who he estimated were a couple of hundred meters off.
The Cacas had some tech helping them to search for the Maurids. The Maurids knew that, and took precautions of their own. Their coats had been anointed with the sap of a tree that covered their scent. They stayed behind the mass of vegetation that kept their heat signature covered. They could hear the low whine of drones in the air, while they moved with complete silence into position for the perfect ambush.
The lead Caca was talking into the air, probably speaking with the rest of the company. Mrrarraras pegged him as the first target. He whispered in the hunting language, sending his people hand signals, assigning them targets. He wanted to take out the drones in the first volley, preventing them from sending information back to their company headquarters. Then they would concentrate on the troopers. They might still get a signal away. It was a risk, but they weren’t out in the forest to play it safe.
The Maurid known as Striped Wolf let out a roar that sounded like one of the large jungle cats hereabouts, then pulled the trigger on his rifle. The buzzing noise of a horde of angry insects filled the air, joined in a microsecond with a score of others, singing a cacophony of sound. The head of the lead Caca was hit, and the beam quickly burned through the hard alloy of the helm and into the skull beneath. Four drones fell out of the air as wrecks with large holes through their bodies. Another five of the Cacas went down, and the rest, the surviving six, ducked down low and tried to get to cover.
The Cacas were large, almost three meters tall, some more. Their size and strength were good for intimidating the helpless. What they weren’t good at was going low and moving silently. The big males flopped on the ground and made noise like a herd of large herbivores. They were easy to target, a little more difficult to kill, and the Maurids took down the squad in seconds.
“Move,” called out Mrrarraras in the hunting language. The disciplined hunters moved immediately, leaving their pair of dead where they lay after gathering up their weapons. While they would have preferred to bring them along and burn them in honor, the living were more important than the dead, and they all wanted to stay among the living.
Less than a minute after they had faded into the forest, clinging to a low rift that led parallel to their preferred path, a half dozen new drones were weaving through the woods. The devices came upon the site of the ambush and went from body to body, sending their information back. They then spread out, looking for the ambushers, who were already well away.
“A good day’s work,” said one of the other warriors, looking down her snout at one of those who had stayed back at the cave, the look of a conqueror at one that was less than.
“We need to get into the city and hit them there,” said another, looking over at Mrrarraras.
“We are killing them out here,” replied the leader, shaking his head in the way of his people. “As long as we are killing them, we are doing what needs to be done.”
“While they continue to kill our people in the city, and we avoid it because of the fear
of death. That is not our way.”
“Look,” said Mrrarraras, grabbing that male by an arm and jerking him up to look at him face to face, snouts touching. “We aren’t going to drive them off our world. Maybe if we had a couple of months to work with, but we don’t have that time. All we are doing here is making them pay blood price for killing us. But it isn’t going to end with us. Unless the humans come in here and take out their system killing devices we are all dead.”
“And will they come?” asked the female who had first spoken. “Will they come to rescue my children, or will I have gone through ten months of pregnancy and carried those twins just to see them die?”
“They will come,” said Mrrarraras, giving a head nod that mimicked the humans. He received some confused looks from those who didn’t know what the gesture meant. “Their Emperor is a honorable being, and he has given the order for his fleet to come to our rescue.”
“So you say,” growled the male who had advocated fighting in the city. “But I don’t know this human, and I have no reason to trust him. And therefore I have no reason to fight the masters in a lost cause.”
“You would be a coward,” yelled the female, moving toward the male with extended claws.
“Stop it,” growled Mrrarraras. “We don’t need to fight among ourselves.”
That was one of the weaknesses of the species, one which Striped Wolf, who had the most exposure to other races of anyone in this cell, recognized. Maurids were quick to anger, and when they were enraged they thought with their glands.
“What if I got one of their senior people here to talk with us? To fight with us?”
“Their Emperor? I would listen to that being, once he proved he was my equal.”
And wouldn’t that be wonderful, thought Mrrarraras, imagining the body of the human Emperor lying on the floor of the cave. The humans would declare war on the Maurid people, and there would be no aid for the race. When the humans won the war there would be no place for the Maurid species to hide from the enraged subjects of the Emperor.
“I will see what I can do,” said Mrrarraras, turning to walk down the tunnel that led into the large complex.
The leader moved through groups of his people who were working or relaxing, preparing themselves for more missions. There were a few humans scattered among them, unusual specimens who moved with a grace and speed unlike the majority of their species. He knew they were genetically engineered, a retroactive process that changed their genome in their adult stage. That didn’t lessen their contribution to the war effort as stealth warriors. And from what he understood, the process they went through was painful in the extreme. They were all volunteers, who gave up decades of a long lifespan to become what their Empire needed them to be. He considered them the equals to the heroes of his people.
He turned into a side tunnel, activating the door lock with his DNA and walking into a large chamber filled with machinery. The door was more to keep the electronic signatures in than anyone out. But there was also reason to keep the casual observer out. Humans sat at several stations, in conversations with people back home. A four by four meter wide mirror sat on the back wall of the room, while containers were stacked up to the side of the cleared path leading out of the portal. As he watched the mirror rippled, and a pair of humans in powered armor walked through, carrying more containers of weapons to swell the cache. When enough were gathered they would be transferred up to one of the entry caverns, and when night fell they would go by caravan to other cells.
“I need to talk to someone in your headquarters,” said Mrrarraras, moving to stand beside one of the human techs, one who was not a Ranger.
“Of course, sir,” said the woman, recognition in her eyes. “You can sit, or stand, over there.”
Striped Wolf nodded and moved to the indicated spot. He fit his body into the human chair, which, while not made for his body, still served its purpose to place him in the proper orientation to communicate with person on the other end with his face at the same level.
The holo, connected to the wormhole, came to life, and Mrrarraras’ eyes widened as someone he had not expected to speak to appeared.
“Hunter,” he whispered in Terranglo. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I was getting ready to check up on our operation on your planet,” said the human, a small smile on his face. “Luck? Karma? So, what’s going on?”
“We have a problem here, General. And I’m hoping that someone might be able to help me light a fire under the asses of my people.”
“Would it help if I came there?”
“I’m sure it would,” said Mrrarraras, smiling. Wouldn’t this warrior be a wake up call to the doubters.
* * *
“I’m not sure I’m allowed to let you through this portal, General,” said the NCO in powered armor that was in charge of the detail guarding this side of the wormhole.
The wormhole itself was four by four meters, same as on the other end. Containers of weapons were stacked up in the room, while soldiers in powered armor suits carried more in through the wide doors of the loading bay. The workers were in the armor in order to take advantage of their strength. They were unarmed, which couldn’t be said of the guards, who carried stunners in hand while the butts of particle beam rifles thrust over their shoulders.
“I’m just going on a diplomatic mission to the Maurids, Sergeant,” said Cornelius in his best persuasive voice. “That is a part of my job description, you know.”
“I think you’re trying to pull something, General. And I think the Grand Marshal will have my ass if you go through that portal and anything happens to you.”
“Look. I will give you orders in writing requiring that you let me through, detailing my reasons for going. That should be enough to satisfy the Grand Marshal.”
“I don’t know…”
“Look, Sergeant. This is an emergency. I need to meet with the senior members of the Maurid resistance, or there will be hell to pay. I don’t have time to go through all the channels.”
“You must have a good reason, sir,” said the NCO, looking at Cornelius’ dress uniform, with the three Imperial Medals of Heroism prominently displayed. “And I really don’t see you going into combat in your dress uniform. Okay. You can go through. But make sure that you bring your ass back. They’ll crucify me if you go and get yourself killed.”
“Thanks, Sergeant. I promise I’ll be a good boy. And I’ll be right back.”
The general felt bad about lying to the sergeant. There was no other way through, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary. If they didn’t let him through he would have to force his way into the portal. Not the easiest thing to do with soldiers in powered armor. He thought he would still be able to make it, but was happy that it looked like that wouldn’t be necessary.
Cornelius stepped through the portal before the NCO changed his mind. He had sent his combat equipment ahead with some of his men. They weren’t about to stop one of their own from putting his ass on the line.
As always the transit was disorienting. It felt like being stretched across the universe, being nowhere and everywhere for an infinite time. The period of time it actually took was so short that it was almost impossible to measure, something along a couple of ticks of the Plank time. Still, his vision was blurred and his hearing stunted as he stepped out, taking a few seconds to come back to normal. If it had been a combat insertion right into battle, something the Empire tried to avoid if possible, the distorted sensorium could have been a disaster.
The several humans and one Maurid in the chamber all looked at him. He knew that the humans all knew what he was going through. Not so the Maurids, who seemed to have a different experience than humans.
“Hunter,” said the Maurid, from his markings the one known as Striped Wolf to the Empire. “It is good to see you again.”
“Mrrarraras,” said Walborski, not stumbling over the name he had practiced many times in the hope that he would not insult the leader of
the Maurids in the Empire. “I’m happy to be here.” He bumped fists with the alien in the manner of the Rangers, then smiled at the other warrior’s toothy grin.
“I am having problems with some of my people trusting your Empire,” said the Maurid, leading the way to the door.
“But not you?”
“No. Not after operating alongside your military. I have seen that you do what you say, and if you don’t, it’s not from lack of effort. Your Emperor is an honorable being, unlike our own.”
Cornelius nodded. He had to agree with that. Sean could be a cold bastard when needed. He was in it to win for the human race. But he would not do so by betraying allies. If possible, he would move stars to do what he said. What he wouldn’t do was sacrifice human lives for no purpose, which sometimes ran at odds with promises to other species. Sometimes even with promises to his own subjects. While a cold bastard he could also be compassionate and caring. He would do what was needed to keep the Maurids in the fight, his greatest allies so far in Ca’cadasan space.
“So, what can we do to instill that sense of trust in you untrusting people?” asked the Ranger, walking through the hatch, already open as men in combat armor carried cases of weapons out and down the corridor to the transshipment point. Cornelius stepped agilely out of the way of two of the humans who were having trouble changing their own momentum while carrying the heavy cases.
“Watch it,” yelled one of the armored figures, turning its head to look over at the unarmored human. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t realize it was an officer.”
“And you were correct to yell at my fool ass,” said Walborski with a smile. “You have too much to do to worry about some idiot getting in your way from lack of attention.”
The man raised his visor and smiled, then motioned for his partner to move on with the four cases they were carrying.
“We appreciate the weapons you have brought us,” said Striped Wolf, watching the armored humans walk on.
“Anything else you can use?”
“More anti-air weapons would be nice. Maybe some more mortars. But what we need most are shore batteries that can strike at their ships in orbit.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 14: Rebellion. Page 19