Naero's War: The Citation Series 2: The High Crusade

by Mason Elliott

  Below the roiling, stormy surface of that moon, a terrible, ruthless war was being waged.

  The invaders converted a great deal of their war tech to underwater warfare. They systematically raided and destroyed undersea cities and robot fishing fleets to bloat their meatships of all sizes. What was more, the fighting taking place underwater made the enemy much more difficult to track down.

  Bravo arrived on scene, prepared for underwater combat.

  Submersible ops were a lot like zero-G ops in many ways, complicated by additional environment issues involving pressure, undersea concussion effects, and various weapon and movement modifications and considerations.

  Some energy weapons still functioned quite well under water, with some slight adjustments. Fixers also worked very well.

  Shetanna couldn’t use her Chaos swords; that was a pain. But many of her other Chaos powers and Mystic abilities still functioned perfectly fine.

  Exploding needle guns fit the bill nicely, in most instances, for primary Marine weapons. Rockets, microbombs, and float-seeker smartmines became incredibly useful.

  Cloaking actually worked even better under water. Bravo was able to sneak up on the enemy units and take them out as they were blasting away at another civilian sea city shielded dome.

  Shetanna and the Marines learned that gravwings could be modified to work very well in the deep.

  The battles on Kariinga-12 became a running contest of undersea hide and strike.

  This was how it usually went.

  One side would expose a unit, sometimes even on the surface, baiting the trap. This was called drawing fire.

  Then the other side would take the bait and attack. Combatants would pile on as the skirmish or all-out war escalated from there.

  There was one problem for both sides. Starships and submersible craft could mask themselves and hide very easily in the oceans. Marines and Intel had trouble locating and destroying the enemy fleets underwater.

  Naero and Om were still in the process of knocking their teknomancing heads together in an attempt to lick that obstacle. While Bravo could take out attacking units when they struck, the enemy fleets remained relatively safe–free to produce more clone troops.

  And that was exactly what they were doing. Giving the rapacious Ejjai access to rich, plentiful, underwater food stocks was not a good idea. Abundant mineral resources also gave them resources for the enemy production factory ships to produce more war materials.

  In short order, the Ejjai would soon be churning out clone fleets and forces faster than the defenders could destroy them. And they could launch them to help overwhelm Kariinga-12, and then to help harass and subjugate other neighboring systems, perhaps for years to come.

  Then, on the hunt one day, Naero spotted two dozen enemy squid ship raiders–scuttling along, looking for trouble.

  Squid ships were the equivalent of underwater tanks or assault ships and troop carriers of various types and sizes. The smallest and most basic held a crew of four, and eight troops.

  “Let the small fries pass through,” Shetanna ordered her cloaked Marines over their secured link. “We want the bigger fish today, guys. These are just scouts. Paint them on the combat grid and let our people pop them later.”

  Corporal Murphy Daniels, Fireteam 2 leader from Squad 4, added. “Hey Brighteyes, I’m sensing some psyonic static with my telepathy again.” Most Spacers had a psyonic talent by the time they were twenty. Murphy’s was telepathy.

  Naero focused her own Mystic abilities and opened her third eye. Many telepaths and MCLs had encountered this phenomenon before, but no one could make any sense of it.

  Any ideas, Om?

  N, you know as much as I do on this. All analysis reveals some kind of psyonic shadow or feedback echo. It appears out of nowhere, and then just fades or vanishes. There’s no source or anything to trace it back to.

  And yet the phenomenon was being repeated on a regular basis, and noticed by anyone sensitive to telepathy. It had to mean something, and she worried that it was some kind of new threat.

  Om, plot all known occurrences on the combat grid history.

  Naero, that’s already been done. No direct connection has been found between any enemy attack patterns or projected troop movements.

  Humor me here, Om. Project and scan for any directional flow patterns of this phenomena. Compare them to that of the enemy attack patterns and the flow of battle that has occurred in the last half hour. Hey, look at this. A full analysis has just been released by Intel. Include all of that data.

  Wait. Tabulating new data. I think there is something here, N. Counter-intuitive algorithmic patterning suggests that the occurrences of the phenomena has them flowing away from all major attacks, directly before those engagements by the enemy. They move away from the attack patterns, against the logic. Everyone assumed that to be significant, that they would need to flow toward the attack locations.

  Good work, Om. Now, what does it mean? Can we use any of this to predict their next waves of attacks, or predict attack patterns and targeting?

  No, N–not yet, unfortunately. The parameters and indicators don’t work that way exactly. But we can use the data we have, combined with this new analysis, to guess where they won’t attack next. And from there, we can begin to make better guesses as to where they might attack. We need more info, and we still can’t be sure when they would launch such attacks and from what directions.

  Well, a better idea of where they might attack is better than what we had, Om. Instead of just responding to their attacks, and allowing them to pick the time and place, we can be more ready. Next time, when they do strike, we just might be waiting for them. Transmit our initial findings to HQ and Intel and ask them to apply and test them–on my order codes.

  Will do, N. Transmitting now.

  Hours later, they predicted a high probability of three new major enemy attacks on three unrelated, removed locations.

  The telepathic ghost echoes were also reported in those vicinities, within the acceptable parameters of the prediction models they were testing.

  Om, if only we could locate all of those submerged fleets. There has to be a connection between these phenomena and the enemy.

  After a few minutes, Om came back to her. N, I think there might be a way to located those enemy fleets.

  How, Om?

  Well, as usual, the attempt to do so would prove risky–to both of us. It might very well sap all of our strength within about an hour or so. There’s even a chance that it could kill us.

  Screw that. What’s the chance of death, Om?

  About twelve percent.

  Hmm…but we could locate the enemy ships, even if they’re cloaked or concealed under the ocean depths?

  I’m eighty-seven percent certain of that, N.

  I think we have to risk it, Om. I’m not worried about us. We’re tough.

  Well, as usual, I’m the sane one. I am worried about us.

  Since when did you get to be the sane one?

  Like, forever?

  Nero chuckled. Om, if we can pinpoint those enemy fleets, our people could destroy them and end the conflict on this system in no time. That means we can be done here and move on to the next world that needs us, saving more lives faster. We can’t get bogged down here on one planet.

  Moon.

  Haisha, whatever. The point is, we can’t get stuck here, trying to out-weasel the enemy. Let’s jump on this and make it happen.

  They informed Intel and brought Squad 4 with them. They took over a scanning ship orbiting the water moon.

  Working with the fixer clouds attached to Naero, they modified the sensor and scanning arrays.

  Naero and Om teknomanced with the modified craft and tek, becoming one with it all.

  Naero became the conduit–the heart and brain of an enormous psyonic scanner, passing over the watery moon, searching for any active or passive mind signatures.

  It would take them one standard hour to complete a full swe
ep of both hemispheres.

  And it was not fun. All the while, Naero felt as if her Cosmic energies were being sucked out of her by hordes of vampires. And the feedback waves of cosmic and psyonic pain and pressure ripped through her with fresh agony at random.

  No one guessed that the interface would be that painful or dangerous, except for Om. They were proceeding into uncharted territory with untested new tek.

  Damnation, Om. You didn’t say that becoming part of this sensor array was going to hurt this bad.

  Sorry, N. I’m feeling it, too. Right with you. I did say that there was a slight chance of death. The various energy flows passing through a biomechanical form, even one as powerful as ours, does make some physical discomfort extremely probable. There, does that make you feel any better, now that I’ve quantified it?

  Hell no, Om. Some physical discomfort? Some? Haisha! I feel like someone’s ripping my teeth through my body and out my feet!

  Naero clenched her teeth, breathing hard.

  Naero, reach out with your expanded senses. You are one of the most powerful telepathic scanners ever devised. Ignore the fact that you could burn out any second. Concentrate. Focus. What do you see below us in the oceans?

  She controlled her breathing and calmed herself, ignoring the pain as best she could, closing her eyes, but opening her third eye and her mind, boosted by the amplified intensity of the array she was jacked in to, adding to and magnifying her awareness.

  At first, all of the sensations and data were simply too overwhelming. Then she and Om worked together to order and make sense of them all.

  Naero saw the entire moon on the telepathic wavelength–in the realm of pure psyonic energy.

  Even as the effort slowly drained her and tore at her mind and body.

  I see them, Om. I see everyone. I see all and everything. Are you getting this? Are you recording the data?

  Brilliant, N. Recorders on. Loading data to the combat grids as we speak. You’ve done it, N. The sheer scope of it is staggering.

  You’ve scanned an entire system psyonically.

  Om, I’m fading. I can feel it. I’ll need to unplug soon. The hour’s almost up. I can’t take much more. I’ll try to hold on a bit longer. Make sure that you pinpoint the locations of the enemy fleets and relay them to our orbital navy and coordinate targeting profiles with battery fire command. That is imperative.

  Transmitting enemy locations as they come to us. Hold on, N. Processing raw data and psyonic telemetry as fast as I am able. Only a few minutes longer to complete the full scan. Hang on.

  Om. I don’t think I can. I’m losing it. The array, the energies. They’re tearing me apart!

  She steeled herself and called upon her finite reserves.

  Just a few minutes more could save the lives of billions.

  Naero saw the enemy fleets as clumps of cloaked minds in their ships and units. She could easily differentiate them from the other mental signatures of sea life, Spacer Marines, and the locals.

  She could spot and locate every enemy vessel, craft, and individual trooper. That was how powerful the new array was.

  The heavens lit up with fire.

  Massive combined orbital batteries locked on and opened up on the water moon. Naero watched as those enemy mental signatures winked out and were snuffed out.

  There were many more foes in system than they had assumed.

  The sweep continued, and more invaders were eliminated each second. Fire from the sky continued to rain down.

  The enemy probably didn’t even know what hit them or how the Alliance had located them.

  Naero’s torment intensified, and her energies ebbed.

  A massive feedback wave disrupted the sensitive scanning array. It began to melt down and tear itself apart, with Naero still jacked in to it. She was still part of the array as it destroyed itself.

  She screamed, too damaged and fried to disengage from her teknomancy links to the vessel and all of its tek.

  Veronica led the attempt by Squad 4 to cut and blast her free from those links and all of the hardware.

  The scanning ship was about to go critical.

  The order was given to abandon ship.

  Squad 4 ignored those orders and at last tore and blasted Naero free. Then they stuffed her into a rescue ball and sealed their armors.

  Four Marines blasted their way out of the hull with shaped boarding charges.

  They fled into the black on their gravwings, heading away from the burning ship as it first imploded, and then exploded.

  All hands managed to get away to a safe distance, and awaited retrieval from the rescue teams and vehicles swarming their way.

  Veronica mindlinked with Naero shortly thereafter, when they had their MCL on a medbed. They shared some of the last remnants of the psyonic pain that was still pulsing through Naero’s mind.

  Veronica did her best to syphon away that pain and take it upon herself. Together, they kept Naero’s mind from collapsing and being destroyed.

  Did…did we get them all?” Naero asked her.

  Veronica checked. “You sure did. Great job, N!”

  The orbital batteries did their work, completing the task.

  Even as Naero and Om recovered, Bravo’s water weasels began mopping up whatever was left of the enemy.

  The very next day was Thirdday and Food Night once again.

  To celebrate their victory on the waterworld, Naero purchased a bunch of top-notch food supplies and took over the mess hall.

  She made enough fresh, seafood and crab bisque to feed all of Company 36, and then some.

  Her mates gobbled it up and came back for seconds.

  Acer Adams broke down and proposed. And it wasn’t a joke. He seemed pretty serious about it.

  The guy completely lost it and went for broke, gesturing wilding with his hands. And he wasn’t even drunk, that much.

  He even had tears in his eyes. “Naero, I really love you, babe. I just can’t take it any more. I dream about you all the time. You kick ass like a warrior goddess. I can’t take my eyes off the way you are shaped, and that cute little butt of yours just knocks me out. It’s usually your face I see in my sex dreams–more of than not. I…I have never felt this way about anyone.

  “And on top of all of that…you can fucking cook like this?”

  Everyone within earshot simply stared in stunned silence.

  Naero rose, stood before Acer, and then leaned down to whisper into his ear.

  “Acer, you enormous ass howitzer. You stop humiliating the fuck out of both us right now, or so help me, I will rip your genitals off with my bare hands, cram them down your throat, and choke the living shit out of you with them until you turn every color in the rainbow and die. Nod your head if we have an understanding.”

  Acer didn’t say another word. He nodded slowly, swallowed hard once, and then quickly made his way back toward the mess hall, presumably for more bisque.

  12

  On Pixie-6, Bravo Command got their wish. Bravo loved to fight in the black. The black was their home, their element. They were raised in it, nursed on it, and fought in darkness like no force in the galaxy. And they defended their domain with a devotion and a ferocity that had made them legendary.

  No one. No elite fighting force in galactic history owned the night and fought under its dark mantle with more finesse and tenacity than the Marines of Bravo command. Bar none, they were the finest night fighting force that had ever been known to exist.

  And they took any challenge to their dominion very seriously.

  Nowhere was that fact made more evident that during the fierce battles that raged across the planet called Pixie-6.

  That planet had a very radical trajectory to its axis that made the declination to the sun very odd at times during its year. As a result, almost half of the world plunged into a winter of almost sheer darkness for months at a time.

  Without moons and a cloudy atmosphere, it was a world that suffered the Ejjai invasion in a complet
e blackout of cold terror.

  And the situation would not change, alter, or let up for many days to come.

  The locals were, again, mostly the Piettos of those sectors, barely thirty to sixty millimeters high. Fierce in their own ways, but still terribly outmatched and outgunned by the militaristic hordes of the Ejjai invader. One quarter of the local population of twelve billion had already been slaughtered during the invasion, before Bravo Command arrived on scene and hit the enemy with all of the blazing fury that the Spacer Marines had come to be known for.

  Yet the invader had had time to entrench themselves right in the middle of numerous, key population centers on the planet’s surface. The enemy meatships were being stuffed to capacity each day. And the cloneships were already churning out fresh enemy units of cloned shocktroops, tens of thousands at a time.

  With each day that passed, the war of numbers still appeared to be tipping in favor of the invaders.

  Projections showed Pixie-6 as possibly becoming the first invaded world where the enemy could not be directly defeated by force of arms. At current rates, they would eventually tip the scales, and overwhelm all of the defenders.

  Then there would be no choice but to eradicate all remaining life on the planet in order to take out the enemy. Of course, by that time, the local population would be dead, so razing the world by atomics and mass bombing to exterminate the invaders would be the only choice, before they could continue to spread their disease further to other systems nearby.

  That was a very grim plan of last resort, and always ended in the planet being uninhabitable.

  Bravo took on the challenge for what it was, and brought in all of their reserves and allies.

  The invaders had already been pushed out of the area where the sun still shone.

  Bravo and 36 raced into the black, knowing full well what was waiting for them. They rode headlong into battle with honor, and with unparalleled ferocity, to face down the invader at their strongest, in a stand-up, all-out war in the black.