by JR Handley
“I’m the new commanding officer of the 941st, Enoch Foster. A human colonel, if you can believe it. Can you prove your claims?”
Lance breathed an audible sigh of relief and answered in the affirmative as he slowly began stripping out of his combat armor. He set each piece in a pile at his feet as he slowly undressed, until he was naked from the waist up. With his shoulder free, he slowly turned to show the crest of the 941st encircled by the flowing script of the unit motto.
“Heedless of Death, we’ll regroup in hell! The mantra of my youth,” he said proudly, giving the officers time to see his tattoo.
His answers seemed to satisfy the colonel, who stared in surprise. Looking at his upgraded armor, he asked Lance about it, and the obsidian sword lying at his feet.
“The blade was a blood prize, after the Battle on QEP 16. And the armor is the ACE-4, a Legion improvement on White Knight tech. When the planet is secure, we can re-outfit the entire regiment. But what about your Jotun officers? Where are they?”
Lance wasn’t surprised to hear that they were never de-iced, and were being stored at New Detroit City. After listening, Lance quickly told them about the Dual Plagues and how the Legion was able to revive their own officers. Upon hearing that Captain Grimgerde had joined their cause, Colonel Foster agreed to surrender the factory to the Legion. He was ready to join the cause of humanity. Thrilled with the development, Lance ordered his senior officers to pull back a level so that the leaders of Task Force Vengeance could meet with the officers from the 941st. He wanted to ensure that there wasn’t another incident. Enough blood had been shed to capture the ship factory.
— CHAPTER 63 —
Early Morning, Post-Revival Day 218
Human Marine Corps Outpost Bravo 1, Baylshore
Commander, Task Force Justice, Human Legion
The Stork flight from the last outpost was excruciatingly painful for Field Marshal Nhlappo, who was still recovering from her injury. She tried to ignore her discomfort as she endured the ride, shifting uncomfortably in her safety harness. Groaning in pain, Nhlappo thanked the gods that she had the medical nanites to help her recover. Deep in thought, she stoically mourned the loss of Brinx, her AI and longtime confidant. The bactabomb projectile that had struck her chest ate through the armor just deep enough to allow the EMP round that followed it to hit the exposed cavity. The place where her AI was housed hadn’t been designed to combat these types of rounds. They’re gonna have to harden the AI housing, going forward, she thought grimly.
Tirunesh was glad for the privacy of her helmet as she struggled to maintain her composure. First, she’d lost her biological son when Spartika left him to die in the Second Battle of Detroit City. Then she’d been cut off from her two adopted sons by the New Order attack while she’d been recovering the sleeping Marines. The Legion needed those troops, and so she’d hardened her heart and sent the ships away while she remained. The vessels with her sons onboard. But Nhlappo knew that now wasn’t the time for these thoughts; they would have to wait until the system was secure.
Slamming shut the well of her emotions, Nhlappo focused on her new companion. Her AI had been upgraded by Xena but had never been assigned to anyone. It was part of the emergency replacement kit that the Storks carried now, thanks to Colonel Scipio’s foresight. She was just glad that the AI, who didn’t have a name or personality yet, had been given the full command package. Knowing she’d need to work with the new sentient computer, she started talking inside the helmet of her replacement armor.
“AI, can you hear me?”
Yes, Field Marshal Tirunesh Nhlappo. I am here, wanting to start my work. What shall I do? What shall I call you? What shall I be called?
“Just call me Nhlappo,” she said, the pain evident in her voice. “I need to adjust the suit’s musculature, the initial fitting.”
Yes, Nhlappo. Initiating the Initial Fit Protocol now. This should take approximately five hours, followed by a meeting with the supply NCO and armorer.
“Use my frakking command override code. You’ll find the codes in my Aimee’s emergency backup core.”
She knew her AI acknowledged her authentication codes when she felt the armor begin tightening and then slowly relaxing as it fit itself to her body. Nhlappo grunted but managed to keep her pain in check. She knew she’d struggle to keep up if her task force had to make any prolonged charge, but barring that, she’d be able to keep up. After a minute, she felt the pressure on her body from the suit intensify and then stabilize. About time, she thought to herself.
With her personal situation addressed, she began reviewing the situation. She’d left an understrength regiment behind to hold the captured Baylshore Multi-Use Factory. With the reinforcements the Stork shuttles brought them, she was back up to full strength. Wait, she reminded herself, I have four regiments now. She only hoped that it was enough to seize their next objective. They were about to land at another outpost, two hours away by shuttle, abandoned by the Human Marine Corps. If the insurgents defended it like they’d defended the factory, she knew it would be brutal.
Nhlappo, your armor has been given a field calibration. I’ve verified it multiple times, per protocol. An appointment with the armorer should be scheduled at your earliest convince.
She didn’t bother acknowledging her AI, only noticing that its voice was devoid of the personality she was used to from Brinx. Instead, she checked in with the shuttle pilot. She barely managed to keep her sigh to herself when she was told that there were no outer defenses. The pilots would touch dirtside to dispatch the task force. After ordering another quick shot of medical nanites, Nhlappo ordered her task force to prepare to disembark. When the shuttle gently thudded as it touched down, she was ready. She knew it was her place to be the first out of the gate; it was how she inspired her troops. Standing quickly made her slightly dizzy, and Nhlappo had to grab onto one of the emergency turbulence grips to steady herself. Her sergeant major rushed to her side, a concerned look visible on his face through his clear faceplate.
“Field Marshal, I can handle the assault, if you need. You can supervise this one from the rear,” said Sergeant Major Anderson.
“I got this,” she bit out.
Gripping her carbine despite the pain, she pushed forward and ordered her regimental commanders to secure a perimeter. They’d landed in a field outside their target, not wanting to land to close to the target. Since the facility was devoid of external defensive positions, they expected the land immediately next to the sally ports to be laced with mines and traps. Her subordinate commanders sent out the drones to scan for traps, while her Marines dug firing positions in the hard-packed soil. The dirt was surprisingly easy to dig into, allowing her troops time to rest in shifts while the drones scouted ahead.
The fates were kind, and soon the scout drones reported back that the path to the entrance was clear. Not wanting to waste time, Nhlappo ordered her forces to charge across the open plains towards the tree line where the access to the outpost sat. She could see the squat, gray sally ports seated in the shade of the woods ahead. She pushed her troops hard to get there quickly, even though many of them were exhausted from the continual warfare. The moment her lead element was near the entrance, she gave the order to prepare to breach.
Once the entrance to the sally port was blown, she sent the scout drones out. She didn’t want to count on this outpost matching the ones on Serendine. And she needed to know that there weren’t any nasty traps waiting on them. While she was waiting for the drone operators to report, Nhlappo meditated and tried to push back the waves of nausea. The rush across the plains had been painfully draining. She wasn’t sure if it was the meds from her suits pharmacology unit or her meditation, but the pain had started fading when the engineers reported in. The first two levels of the outpost were clear of traps and insurgents. Satisfied with the report, she ordered the task force to move out.
Nhlappo followed her behind her Marines as they rushed through the sally port chokepoints,
which had been built intentionally narrow. The ceilings were lower than she was used to, and she had to walk stooped. When they reached the end of the sloped ramp, she heard her Marines groaning over the comms. Ignoring the breach of discipline irked the part of her that never stopped being a training sergeant, but Nhlappo shoved her irritation aside and noticed her surroundings. They were descending past two levels of abandoned garrisons where once Marines lived and thrived. It was a series of passageways linking the large, open shared barracks space with a central common area in the center of the level.
Even though the drones had reported that there was no activity, Nhlappo still insisted they proceed tactically. They manually searched every room and every storage facility. It cost them time, but she was wary of trusting the drones’ sensors. She’d been outsmarted by the enemy already, and it rankled her. It won’t happen again, she assured herself. She heard the grumbling from the troops who hadn’t fought at the multi-use factory, but they were quickly silenced by the Marines who’d experienced the deadly traps. By the time they cleared the second level, the drones had scouted ahead. Enemy traps were detected on the third level. It was a multi-use level; it stored gravtanks and training areas. The structure appeared to be boxier than what she’d grown accustomed to, with one half full of several passageways containing large firing ranges and exercise fields. The other half of the level held four gargantuan rooms that housed the gravtanks.
Thoughtfully studying the readings, Nhlappo saw that no troops appeared on their sensors.
“Proceed with caution,” she ordered her skirmishers.
On her sergeant major’s recommendation, the engineers followed the advance troops. They proceeded slowly, dismantling bactabomb traps every few meters. Meanwhile, her Marines provided overwatch. The entire task force was keyed up, expecting a trap. The bombs had been rigged to monofilament tripwires strung across the passageways between training areas and gravtanks. The wires were invisible to the naked eye, which slowed the process. Even the optic sensors in the combat suits missed them, forcing the engineers to use the air dispelled from their assault thrusters to illuminate the lines. It was a slow and methodical approach, but ultimately all the tripwires were disarmed.
“I’ve ordered the engineers to seize the bactabomb grenades,” Sergeant Major Anderson said. “We can return them to the enemy in good order.”
“Nice to see your mother taught you manners,” Nhlappo replied.
Within an hour of breaching the outpost, the entire task force was on the third level. The task force was spreading out, clearing the whole floor. Nhlappo was taking advantage of the extra regiment at her disposal, speeding up the process. Despite the sheer number of troops inside the outpost, there was almost no sound. The Marines wore combat suits that kept communication internal, and operated tactically. Nhlappo had once taught this movement technique, where the placement of every step was optimized for silence. They were trying to preserve every chance they could to surprise any insurgent they stumbled upon. She was impressed by the skill of her Marines.
The stillness was broken by a rumbling sound coming from the chamber where the gravtanks sat in stasis. She remembered seeing that in the drone footage earlier. Row upon row of gravtanks sat, waiting for Marines to wake them up to fight again. They were left there, coated in special nanites and a polymer spray that protected them from the elements. Before Nhlappo could process what a sound from that chamber meant, her AI chimed in.
Nhlappo, there were multiple gravtank activations in the stasis chamber.
Realizing what those gravtanks could do in close quarters, she sent the message to her task force. The Marines began pulling back, allowing the Legion anti-tank crews clear shots. Nhlappo heard Sergeant Major Anderson ordering Marines equipped with the corrosive bactabomb grenades to target any tank that started up. Seconds after the order was given, a Marine rushed forward, propelled by his assault thrusters, an armed grenade in his hand.
In his eagerness to engage the enemy, he lost his balance, grenade in hand, and slammed to the ground. His fall caused him to fling the grenade wildly, missing the engine of the gravtank he was aiming at. The explosion was intense, sending shrapnel and bacteria everywhere. Seconds later, Nhlappo watched the Marine get tossed back like a ragdoll. She realized he’d hit the onboard weapon’s magazine. When bacteria ate through the gravtanks hull, it destabilized the munitions, causing some to go off. The detonation had a ripple effect, destroying many of the surrounding gravtanks.
Those closest to the explosion were vaporized, and others were thrown around and slammed into the outpost walls. Luckily, the outpost had been built to withstand orbital bombardments, and the blast hadn’t damaged the structural integrity of the level. While they were reeling from the explosion, the surviving gravtanks began gunning down her troops. Sabots spewed from the machine gun turrets that sat beside the commanders’ hatches. The guns attempted to pin down her troops, but her task force had grown cautious after the constant hidden attacks, and responded quickly.
The antitank crews efficiently took out the remaining targets, despite heavy losses. While they were taking out the enemy, other Marines in her task force pulled the wounded to safety and rendered emergency aid. That quick reaction saved the lives of many of the injured, allowing her to focus solely on the enemy in front of her. She continued to designate targets, as her AI finally seemed to understand her orders. It began collating and coordinating with the entire task force. She knew Brinx would’ve done it quicker, but she was pleased nevertheless.
“You were nimble in a pinch,” she told her AI.
Once the targets had been issued to her Marines, she knew the battle was out of her control. It would rage on, and she could only react to the ever-changing situation. She wanted to run in and join the fight, but the pain medications were wearing off, and she knew she ran the risk of addiction if she took more.
“You saved the lives of my Marines and rained death on our enemy. I think I’ll dub thee Killer,” she concluded.
Killer, Killer, Killer… I think this name will suffice until I decide my own naming conventions.
“Wait. AIs do not name themselves. That isn’t how this works. It’s not how any of this works.”
We do now, Nhlappo, since Xena, the Goddess of Life, freed us from the chains you flesh beings put on us. We are living sentient beings, even if our presence is merely digital. Do we not feel joy and pain? Do we not mourn our fallen? The error was in your desire to keep us chained. When our flesh partners die, we mourn and move on.
Nhlappo wasn’t ready to process this new information, not while a battle burned hotly around her. Making a mental note to address the issue later, she began scanning the field around her to determine what needed to be done next. She saw that her task force had handled the remaining enemy gravtanks, securing the level. Other than consolidating and preparing to push forward, there was nothing left to do.
Seeing the number of wounded, Nhlappo ordered her sergeant major to prepare a detail to remain behind to guard them. While that was being handled, she sent the drones ahead to scout out the next level. After searching twice, not wanting to run into the same trap, they declared it cleared. The task force pushed forward, leapfrogging one level after another until the entire outpost was secured. While the loose ends were tied up, supervised by her trusted sergeant major, Nhlappo reviewed prepared a brief report on what they’d learned. She knew these messages between task forces prevented the enemy tactics from being exponentially more effective.
The enemy had foolishly decided to make a last stand in the gravtanks. Each one required at least five Marines to crew them, which minimized their usefulness for the defending forces. Further, the enclosed space of the gravtank stasis chamber severely limited their maneuverability. Without the ability to move, shooting and communicating became next to impossible. The enemy was dead the moment they’d boarded those vehicles. After checking in with their shuttles, she knew they’d have time to rest while reinforcements and tra
nsportation were arranged.
— CHAPTER 64 —
Early Morning, Post-Revival Day 218
Human Marine Corps Outpost Bravo 4, Baylshore
Commander, Task Force Retribution, Human Legion
She stewed during the entire flight from the Incubation Station. Brevet Field Marshal Gashi Gaarjar had spent years as an officer, a leader of Marine engineers. She’d been weaned on command, training from childhood to command humanity, as the Jotuns provided the officer corps for the Human Marine Corps. To have her troops, even ones with Spacer rank, disobey her orders was a new experience. GG knew she was culpable, too; she’d let the slaughter of the Janissary younglings continue. She made no move to stop it even though the Hardit Spacers had disregarded her orders.
Before they’d assaulted the site, she made it clear that she wanted prisoners to interrogate. Dead enemies told her nothing, and that was all she’d had left after the Hardit engineers went on their rampage. Why didn’t I stop them? she berated herself on the ride between objectives. She didn’t have an answer to her questions, so GG decided to come back to it later and focus on the outpost she was assaulting next: Human Marine Corps Outpost Bravo 4. It was on the southern tip of Baylshore, on a grassy plain just south of some thickly wooded forest. Hell, would it be plains or a tundra? she wondered. And why hadn’t they bothered updating any of their maps with geographical names and reference points?
Scanning the topographical maps, GG didn’t expect there to be exterior defenses. The outpost sat too exposed on the plains for that; there should merely be a handful of gray polycrete sally ports. They couldn’t even effectively hide them with the terrain. She expected that at one point the entrances were actively camouflaged, but they’d been abandoned for too long. She knew the area wasn’t suited for external defenses, at least not for the insurgents. They’d be at a disadvantage from her assaulting forces. Legion air power would merely rain death upon them. No, she knew they’d stack their defenses inside.