Insurgency: Spartika (The Sleeping Legion Book 4)

by JR Handley

  Looking up at his lover, Lance smirked and lifted a hand to her. Laughing in that small way of hers, Sashala gave him her hand and helped him regain his footing. After a quick inspection of their gear, they both put their official masks on and headed out to the maglev line where the staff waited. It took almost no time to get there with the sharp pace they’d been conditioning themselves for. They reached the lower level where the maglev waited in record time and not even short of breath. Once Lance was there, his staff loaded themselves onto the train car and strapped themselves in.

  The maglev ride was as bad as Lance remembered, the acceleration gluing him to his seat. Despite his discomfort, he managed to avoid showing weakness to his Marines. He wanted to avoid embarrassing himself in front of Sashala. The last thing he needed was to look like a crècheling. She was already overly fond of teasing him for his various foibles and weaknesses. Lance tried to avoid giving her more ammunition whenever possible, though he knew her ribbing was just an effort to keep him on his toes. Sashala knew he couldn’t survive a repeat of his mistake at the Rumex River. He still had nightmares about the loss of so many good Marines. Further, Lance wanted to remain worthy of the Marines who looked at him like he was some sort of hero. He knew he’d let them down eventually. He was fallible, but he would strive to put that inevitable day off for as long as possible.

  Once they’d arrived at the incubation station, Lance ordered his staff to turn off the recording features on their ACE-4 Combat Suits. Privacy ensured, he gave his Marines an update. He saw surprise on each of their faces, all except his XO, Lieutenant Colonel Charlotte Rochambeau, also known as Wires. She hadn’t served under him any longer than the rest, but she was adept at reading people, and Lance had never been able to surprise her. Even when she was a cadet under his command, she’d been unflappable.

  “Sir, the Sangurians were the apex predators on their home planet,” she said. “They developed an uncanny ability to sense their prey. If you lie, if you try to bluff, you will lose. I’d advise being straight with them. If you promise it, you frakkin’ well better be able to give it to them.”

  Having served beside Colonel Folta ip Daiyna during the campaign to reclaim the continent of Serendine, Lance felt he had an understanding of these strange, furry creatures. He knew his XO was right, but he wouldn’t tell her that he’d already come to the same conclusion. Let her think she made a point. It’ll be good for morale and show my staff that I’m willing to take suggestions, he thought. A quick nod and smile were all it took before Lance had them all resume recording their actions again.

  Thinking out loud, Lance’s newly promoted aide-de-camp asked another crucial question. Lance grunted at the interruption, still not sure how he felt about his new aide. The loss of Hayley Mason, the little sister he never had, still hurt. Thus he constantly compared her ability to anticipate his needs to Kaden Roy’s fumbling. The shorter, stockier man was vastly different from any other human Lance had served with. His complexion was reminiscent of a wintry tundra, and he kept his bleached-white hair unnaturally long. Were he not so proficient, Lance might have transferred the odd man out of his regiment, but he valued competence above all else. The lilting cadence of Kaden’s voice drew Lance out of his internal comparison to his dead former aide.

  “Sir, these Sangurians are not hálfviti. They know they’ll need kit to rebuild their new homes. Might you promise them crates, supplies, loads of your shiny new armor? They want a planet, and then they want to be left alone. Yet to hold what you give them, they’ll need equipment.”

  Thinking on that for a moment, Lance nodded and responded as succinctly as he could.

  “All right, I’m prepared to offer them several regiments’ worth of modified ACE-2 Combat Suits, since we’re all upgrading to the new stuff. The field marshals might not like it, but you’re right about the Sangurians needing to defend their new world. If any of them live that long,” he said, to nervous laughter from his staff.

  “If we offer to provide that kit, we might get a few more battles out of them. And if our techs can insert override codes into the armor, well, they don’t need to know. Meanwhile, they bleed a few more of their kind, making them less of a threat to the Legion.”

  With plans set, they began making their way up the spiral passageways that led to the main facility. It was strange how much the place had changed from the one he’d fought for, not long ago. The divots on the walls had been filled in, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the facility. The bodies were buried, but the ghosts still remained. Blinking, Lance could practically see Hayley assaulting the passageway beside him, but he knew she was dead. He found it odd that a facility designed to create life had cost so many.

  They’d just come out of the lower levels when they were greeted by several armed Sangurian warriors wearing strange alien uniforms, not the standard ACE suits the Marines had all grown accustomed to. The Sangurian helmets were unique in how they compensated for the Sangurian antlers. The helmets split down the middle, allowing for an airtight seal around the antlers. Lance remembered that these antlers had been coated in a durable membrane that strengthened them. He’d seen them used to great effect when they’d cleared the continent of Serendine.

  Regardless of the location of the battle, dirtside or in the void, Sangurian warriors used those antlers to gouge and attack their foe. They reveled in goring their enemies, like monsters out of legend. Another unique feature of their armor was that it was built to allow them to use their claws as the lethal weapons nature had intended. Their gloves had the same adaptation for their claws as was built into helmets to account for their antlers. It wasn’t uncommon for a Sangurian’s claws to come out in a fight, ripping off an opponent’s limbs. Lance had seen the Jotuns do the same thing, but he couldn’t figure out how the stuff worked.

  Despite the intimidation factor exuded by their uniforms, Lance wasn’t terrified. They were no scarier than the Jotuns he’d grown up serving. He was cautious but willing to fight these strange aliens as needed, although he hoped it’d never come to that. He was under no illusions that it would be an easy fight. Of course, if it were easy, they wouldn’t need Marines to do it. Still, he hoped they would be able to work something out, because such a battle would be costly, and many good men and women would die. Lance wasn’t sure of the gender of these aliens; he knew that both of their genders fought and respected strength. With that in mind, he walked up to the biggest Sangurian warrior and headbutted him with his combat helmet. This brought the warrior up short.

  Everyone around Lance tensed up, fingers near the triggers on their SA-71 carbines, when the Sangurian bent over at the waist, chittering.

  “Xena, what has this warrior said?” he asked.

  Nothing important. The Sangurian male is laughing at you, Xena told him over the static-filled helmet speakers. He respects your moxie, but clearly thinks fighting you would be an easy win. Before he recovers, tell him you’re going to see Colonel Folta, and I suspect he’ll let you through.

  Lance didn’t need to be told twice, and he quickly passed that on to the warrior in front of him. “We’re here to speak to Colonel Folta. Send word up to him to expect us, and tell him to send an honor guard to escort us to him directly.”

  Before the Sangurian could respond verbally, Lance got on the 6907th’s LBNet and passed on his reasoning. He needed them to know where he was coming from and record his intentions for posterity. If this went belly-up, this recording might give him a fighting chance with the field marshals.

  “They were going to send guards to us,” Lance said to those in his party, “like we were some common criminals. This turned their intentions against them, and now they’re doing our bidding. It’s purely about the posturing and giving us the appearance of the upper hand. Never negotiate from a place of weakness.”

  Everyone acknowledged his reasoning, and the entire party made it to the level below the command bunker of the station, where they were met by an armed guard from the Sangurian Re
giments. Reaching the command bunker, Lance noticed that it looked very different now. There were soil, moss, and other greenhouse plants in the command room. It all gave off the feel of a more natural cave-like environment, smelling much like the mountainous regions he called home.

  Upon arrival, Colonel Folta walked up to them and warmly embraced Lance. “My littermate, it has been several moon cycles since last we met,” said the boisterous Colonel Folta. “We met our obligation to your leader Grigonna. Have you come to fulfill your blood debt to my people in return?”

  Knowing that the negotiations could get tricky, Lance took a calming breath first.

  “My understanding was that you had joined the Legion and our cause until we secured the system. From here, we would take you to our next destination, the Rakasa System. Once there, a suitable planet would be made available. At least the planet was there when I left the system. With the White Knight’s civil war, we hope to take the system from them by force. We’re on the cusp of that victory in the Tranquility System, needing only to beat the armies of the traitor Spartika. There will be the opportunity for much blood to be spilled, an honorary offering to your gods and goddesses.”

  Colonel Folta took the pause in Lance’s speech as an opening and returned to the issue of the blood oath sworn to Field Marshal Grigonna.

  “The Sangurian Horde seeks to honor the bargain we struck with your new ancestor, the Warrioress Grigonna. If you are not ready to do this at this time, my people are busy seeking to create more warriors capable of advancing our agenda,” said the suddenly serious Colonel Folta, “even if that new foe is regrettably the esteemed Lance of the Scipio Clan.”

  The friendly smile dropped from Lance’s face as he stared down the Sangurian colonel in front of him. It had little effect on Colonel Folta, though Lance hadn’t thought it would with an alien incapable of reading human body language. He didn’t let that deter him, not with so much riding on these negotiations.

  “It would likewise give me pain to send the Sangurian Horde back to the welcoming arms of their ancestors when rejuvenation was so close. Would they welcome you with open arms, Colonel Folta, for letting pettiness doom your people? Instead, I offer you a final, conclusive bargain. Assist us in freeing the rest of this planet for the Legion, and we shall take you straight to your new home. Might we strike this bargain? A new blood oath, one struck once both parties know the exact terms and aren’t blinded by cultural insensitivity. A bargain that benefits us all.”

  Colonel Folta’s expression was hard to read, but his words were unambiguous when he countered Lance’s bargain.

  “You would leave my people to wither and die, like our ancestral home? No, the only bargain struck by my people must be one worthy of the blood we will surely shed. You will give us supplies – weapons, equipment, and vehicles – for the stars and the soil.”

  The counteroffer wasn’t what Lance had been expecting. It had never occurred to him that they might ask for more than the gear he was willing to offer them. They’re not so trusting, after all, he thought. Instead, Folta seemed to want a void-capable vessel. The Legion was in short supply of those, and all of them were with this McEwan character whom Nhlappo served. He knew the field marshals wouldn’t approve of such a donation. Thinking on his feet, Lance countered the offer with the best one he thought he could get.

  “The enemy awaits. Blood which hasn’t yet been spilled cries out to your ancestors and gods for acceptance. We are warriors. Haggling is not our way. I will give you my best offer, and you will decide if your head will rest upon my mantle. We shall supply you with three regiments’ worth of the ACE-2 Combat Suits, modified for your physiology. A comparable number of carbines and pistols will be included, with a basic load of ammunition for each weapon. We will provide you with what you need to set up a viable colony and a portable incubation station, that you might rapidly swell your numbers. But know that I can do none of these things for your people without your warriors, and without my scientists being granted access to this very facility.”

  — CHAPTER 9 —

  Early Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 201

  Human Legion Incubation Station, Serendine

  Commander, 2298th Sangurian RGT, Human Legion

  The battle rage seethed inside her as she watched these inferior beings question her War Chief. Colonel Petra ip Daiyna of the Dark Gorge Clan was an experienced elder clan leader, so she held her rage in check, but her body language screamed her fury to other members of the Horde. While she reveled in her combat leadership role, Petra avoided any more significant management roles. She’d never been much for the responsibilities required to command her entire people and thus had never challenged for the War Chief position. Unlike some of her more exuberant ancestors, she was alive to fight for her people because running a portion of the Horde was enough for her.

  After considering the negotiations, Petra decided that someone needed to step in front of the posturing of the two war chiefs. Deciding the fate of her people rested on her ability to save Colonel Folta from his pride, she squeaked to get their attention.

  “War Chief, it pleases the gods that you have struck such a mighty bargain which ensures the salvation of our people. I shall volunteer my blood in the fulfillment of this holy mission. Send the 2298th Sangurian Regiment. We will seed the ground with the blood of our foes, that we may please our gods!”

  Both War Chief Colonel Folta and the human colonel turned to look at her. The human’s face was difficult for her to understand, but Folta’s showed irritation at her interruption. Petra took solace in the knowledge that she was doing the work of the Goddess, and ignored Folta’s inherent non-verbal challenge.

  Staring her down, Folta said, “We will provide you the warriors for this mission, but overall command shall be ours. The Sangurian Horde shall lead the way.”

  A strange sound came from the human as he bent slightly at her War Chief’s demands. Not sure how she should interpret this gesture, she joined the conversation with her Chief.

  “An honor, great War Chief, to lead our people in this mighty victory. You shall use this time to prepare our people for the eventual conquest of a new and righteous homeworld for our people. The Clans need you, the gods and goddesses need you – let me be the tip of your spear.”

  Folta stared at her while thumping his foot on the floor. With a growl of agreement, he turned to the human and spoke again.

  “Has the blood oath been struck? Has the deal been sealed on our bargain? We will receive the planet, the gear, and command of the campaign?”

  The human stood straighter, as if he just realized that they were serious about their intent to command the expedition to secure the human planet of Tranquility. Petra watched what could be described as a more stoic visage when he spoke.

  “Colonel Folta, giving command of the campaign isn’t within my authority. I can, however, assure Colonel Petra command of one of the task forces. She can proudly lead the Sangurian regiments under her command. I presume she’ll lead the 2405th and the 2298th Sangurian Regiments.”

  Petra watched intently, for such a command would mean she’d be second in line to inherit the laurel of the War Chief. She knew this wasn’t good; it would mean being challenged by her own people. Such a pointless waste of her people, when every gene line mattered. She knew such ingrained traditions would be hard to kill, but her people would have to adapt to thrive in this strange new universe.

  Stepping forward, Petra started to address the pair when War Chief Folta spoke again.

  “This is acceptable, commanding two Sangurian regiments and one of the task forces. She will not lead with these inferior Hardits. Such a species should be roasted for our supper, not be our brothers in the blood.”

  Thumping her hind leg in agreement, Petra said, “The War Chief speaks rightly. Hardits such as these are a blight upon our ancestors by the very filth of their existence. They will not join in the task force I shall lead. In return, I guarantee you that we shall fertilize the
Tranquility soil so that it may please the ancestors and provide us with a safe passage to our new home. But rest assured, there will be no more delays. When we have honored this bargain, you will deliver us to our new home.”

  When she had spoken her piece, the human again agreed with her plans.

  “It shall be as you request,” said the human War Chief, “and I’ll ask that you have every one of your warriors submit to the Incubation Station’s database of genetic profiles. We like to have a backup system, and we’ll be producing a more portable set-up that you can take with you. Finally, I’ll remind you that my scientists and technicians need access to this facility, but we would be happy to provide you a space of your own, should you desire privacy. I’ll take my leave and expect you to arrange with Akoni City to have your forces transported to the staging grounds. Until then, may the light of the ancestors shine upon you.”

  — CHAPTER 10 —

  Early Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 205

  Sangurian Barracks, Akoni City, Serendine

  Command Staff, 6907th TAC RGT, Human Legion

  Planning a battle hadn’t changed much since the civilized species began crawling out of their primordial soup to spread out across the galaxy. The lead-up took a lot of work and routinely drove logisticians insane. For a void-trained shock trooper like Major Kaden Roy, it was even worse. He hid behind his helmet and let his AI handle most of the heavy lifting. Taking advantage of his unique armor, he went to verify the plans his AI had sent out.

  Kaden’s armor was a bright white with dark black accents and piping, and was more streamlined than the ACE Combat Suits worn by other members of the Human Legion. His helmet had an open, boxy shape which allowed him to use his eyes to view his surroundings without having to rely on his AI or sensors for situational awareness. When not in combat, his visor allowed others to see his face. During combat, he could activate the dampeners and turn his visor to an opaque black, or display pre-programmed monstrosities to unnerve his opponents. And in moments like this, he used the combat mode on his visor and let his vicious visage intimidate the staffers into doing his work for him.