by Mark Wandrey
Minu checked the portal. It was still active, showing a vast plain devoid of life. It was early evening on that world, and the grassy fields were heavily trampled. “Aaron, watch the portal just to be sure.” He nodded and found a position where he could observe the portal and be ready to help if needed. “Let’s finish this.” Gregg moved in close to share Minu’s shield. Side by side, they began pushing toward the rear of the Rasa formation.
It was a replay of the slaughter in the courtyard moments earlier. The Rasa didn’t realize they were under attack from behind until half their number were gone. The middle of their formation wheeled around to return fire and came under heavy attack from the Chosen in the atrium. The leader of the Rasa realized it was over. Almost as one, they threw their weapons down and dropped to their bellies. Minu yelled, “Cease fire! Cease fire!”
Slowly, the bloody and bandaged remnants of the Chosen who’d defended the bottom floor came out to discover they’d won. Slowly, a cheer began, then grew in intensity. Minu looked around her at the carnage, the floor awash in blood and bodies. She remembered the writings of a general many hundred years earlier. “And now we have to pay the butcher’s bill.”
“Minu, you did it.” She looked up and saw Dram. His left arm hung useless and bloody, and he held one of Gregg and Aaron’s huge guns in his right. Two more were in his belt with a couple of extra magazines. She nodded, unslung a new shock rifle, and handed it to him. He stuck his handgun in his waistband and took the weapon, turning it over in his good hand, examining it. Minu checked her own gun. A twenty percent charge remained. She’d lost count of how many hundred times she’d fired it. A careful diagnostic later would reveal its true efficiency.
More Chosen approached and accepted the extra rifles Gregg and Aaron carried. “There are twenty more in warehouse eleven, assembled and ready to go,” she told them.
Jacob was in Jasmine’s office. They’d converted it to a makeshift medical bay, where dozens of Chosen lay moaning in pain or still in death. Dr. Tasker was working on Jacob’s leg, which flechette darts had almost severed at the knee. He was among the lucky ones. More than a few were missing entire arms or legs. Dr. Bane was going to be busy making cybernetic limbs.
“How did you manage it?” Jacob asked, as he examined Minu’s shock rifle. He carefully noted the design, the way it felt in his hands, and how the controls worked.
“Two years ago, on a mission to Serengeti, I had a chance to make a deal.” She explained how she and Cherise had gotten the device from the Beezer warehouse manager. It was a fabricator, designed to manufacture custom photronic systems for small scale applications. It could be configured to make a component, and as long as it was fed raw material and power, it would crank out finished goods. This one was new, never configured. It was a very valuable find; once someone configured it, no one could change it.
Jacob looked at her in disappointment, then his gaze returned to the weapon. “The men tell me this is one fantastic gun.”
“You can say that again,” Gregg said. He held his shock rifle like it was his most treasured family heirloom. He gave it an affectionate pat, then a wet kiss on the stock. “We don’t know half of what it can do, but we do know it fires five times faster than the beamcaster, uses a fraction of the power, is more accurate at longer range, and goes through energy shields like they’re not there.”
“Sounds like a miracle gun,” Jacob said skeptically.
“A miracle is exactly what we got,” Dram said. “Minu, we’re putting together a team, armed with your weapons and some beamcasters for heavy backup. You up for it?”
“After some patching up, sure. What’s the plan?”
“The Rasa blew it here and in Minsk. After we got the warning from Minsk, we sent a few hundred Chosen there. Because of the open design of the freight hub, they walked into a shooting gallery. Not even those turtle-bot/tanks got through.”
“What happened here?”
“We underestimated them. Didn’t think they’d figure out our Chosen-only portal address.”
“Painful mistake.”
“Won’t be made again,” Jacob said.
“Anyway,” Dram said, “Tranquility is the big problem. Again, we discounted that portal because no one really uses it anymore. They poured a few hundred soldiers through it. The two dozen Chosen there got their asses handed to them. The survivors are fighting a guerrilla action, but basically, the lizards are pasting the city. With several days left on the vendetta, we can’t risk them bringing thousands more soldiers through.”
“You think a dozen of these guns can turn the tide?” Minu took Jacob’s question as a challenge.
“If they can’t, there’s nothing to stop them.”
* * *
Julast 13th, 518 AE
30,000 meters, Eastbound, In Route to Tranquility
An hour later, her leg and her friends’ wounds temporarily fixed up, Minu, Aaron and Gregg piled into a pill-shaped Concordian transport seconds before it lumbered off the ground. Rated for six passengers, it was heavily overloaded with twelve fully-armed and -armored Chosen. Ten carried shock rifles and shields, and two had beamcasters for heavy fire support. The flight took six hours that felt like forever. Minu tried to sleep but only managed to catch two hours near the end of the flight. Gregg shook her awake as the pilot circled Tranquility’s plateau. From five thousand meters, the fires looked more under control and less widespread. She picked up a communicator and contacted the Chosen below.
“This is Chosen Alma, in command of a combat detachment, calling any Chosen in Tranquility, please report.”
“This is Chosen Jennings,” came the broken reply, “we’re happy to hear from you.”
“What is your situation, Jennings?”
“We have the Rasa surrounded and isolated inside Stadium Park, but we’re taking furious casualties.”
“What? How have you managed that?”
“Chosen Jovich led an attack on the portal and somehow disabled it, cutting off their reinforcements. They still managed at least a thousand through.”
“They never got their waves of bots through, though,” Minu said, half to herself.
“After that, the Plateau military mobilized their reserves, and we got down to it. The casualties have been horrible, but we’ve fought the Rasa to a standstill.”
“Roger that, Jennings, we’re almost there. Send us coordinates, and we’ll be right down. Ask Chosen Jovich to meet me on landing.”
“I’m sorry, that isn’t possible. He didn’t survive the assault on the portal.”
Minu choked and felt tears forming. Terry, Alijah, hundreds of Chosen, and now Jovich, too? Too many had died today; she had to stop this. One old, dead Chosen was not a reason to give up. “Noted,” she managed to say. Aaron reached up and touched her arm; she grabbed his hand and squeezed. She only found out hours later that she’d unconsciously used her cybernetic hand and broke two bones in his. He hadn’t made a sound or tried to let go. All her friends knew who Jovich was and what he meant to the Alma family. “I’m truly an orphan now,” she whispered.
They landed and disembarked in a surprisingly peaceful landing zone outside a demolished restaurant. Minu stepped down from the transport and walked into the building, which was little more than a gutted shell. A pair of heavy firetrucks were parked nearby; the crews looked as tired and beat up as the Chosen back at Steven’s Pass. Jennings ran up and shook her hand, having immediately recognized her gold stars. He followed her gaze to the emergency crews and shook his head.
“The Rasa don’t seem to buy into the whole ‘non-combatant’ theory. Hundreds of firefighters were killed while trying to limit the damage.” Jennings took her into a trashed clothing store, where she found the Plateau military commander, a middle-aged man wearing the mostly ceremonial trappings of a Plateau soldier. It was an amazing mix of archaic metal armor and fatigues. The only thing she thought might be any good was the steel helmet he wore, but even that was too short to protect the
sides and back of the head. He looked more like a cross between a chaos-era knight and an old Earth Civil War reenactor. “This is Colonel Hastings.”
“Colonel, glad to be here.”
“Very good, young lady. Now if your people can give our perimeter guards a rest, we can mount another assault. We’re making some progress here. The lizards are remarkably difficult to contain and keep trying to break out.”
Jennings lifted an eyebrow at the dismissive treatment Minu received, and she didn’t think much of it, either. “Colonel, I’m sorry, you don’t seem to understand the situation. I am Chosen Minu Alma, and I’m taking command of this effort.”
“Now see here,” he blustered, his chest inflating with indignation, “I fought Rusk border raiders before your father was—”
“My father was First Among the Chosen, and he traveled all over this galaxy while you were playing soldier boy.” The Colonel’s eyes grew big as she continued. “Have your men deal with any stragglers; we’re going after the enemy command.”
Before he could complain, Minu gathered the Chosen who’d accompanied her. She outlined her strategy, and they nodded in agreement. They would take advantage of their superior weaponry and go for a knockout kill. The still flabbergasted Colonel Hastings watched as the twelve Chosen activated personal shields, readied their outlandish-looking shock rifles, and trotted out of the building and into history.
* * * * *
Chapter 9
Julast 13th, 518 AE
East Limb Industrial Complex, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
The battle of Tranquility lasted less than an hour. Minu’s team waded into the Rasa with their rapid-fire shock rifles, killing at will and driving into the heart of the enemy like a lance aimed at its heart. As soon as she’d heard that infantry equipped with old-style firearms had managed to hold the Rasa, she’d realized the enemy didn’t have a large stock of beamcasters. Though some later called it arrogant, she considered victory inevitable, and she was right. It only took ten minutes to reach the center of the Rasa position and storm the command center. It was another 40 minutes before all their troops got word that their commander had surrendered instead of facing total annihilation. For the second time in his life, Var’at sat on the ground, a prisoner of Minu Alma.
“This is most improbable,” he said when he saw the leader of the victorious enemy unit. The humans were remarkably identical in his perceptions, but her visibly swollen mammary glands and bright red hair were distinctive. Minu smiled as she recognized the Rasa by the chunk missing from his head crest.
“Var’at, it is good to see you, again.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Your forces on Bellatrix are defeated.”
“You are a liar.”
“The force assaulting Minsk never gained a beachhead, and I defeated the one attacking our Chosen command six hours ago. And now your forces here have fallen, as well.”
The Rasa examined her carefully, listening to his translator hiss and snap. When it finished, he nodded and lowered his head in defeat.
“I ask you to end this vendetta. Do not force us to retaliate against your off-world base of operations. You’ve seen our superior weaponry and our resolve. The decision is yours.”
“You are victorious.” he agreed at last. “I do not understand how.”
“Innovation,” she said. His looked at the sleek new shock rifle, carefully taking in every detail. Go ahead and memorize it all, she thought and smiled, you won’t find it anywhere in the Concordian network; this is a purely human creation.
“As you no doubt are aware,” Var’at began, “under the rules of vendetta, we are sacrificed. What do you intend to do with us?”
“You will be returned to your world, once you provide us with the coordinates.”
He didn’t believe her, his long tooth-lined jaw hanging open. “Are you serious?”
“I already told you I was, didn’t I?”
“I do not know if you are noble or foolish.”
“Maybe both.”
“Indeed. You have my thanks; we are your inferiors.”
“We would like to be your friends.” He made a spitting sound the translator couldn’t handle. “If we can put our past transgressions behind us?” she added hesitantly.
“You slaughtered innocents!”
“What do you call this?” she asked, gesturing expansively at the smoldering city.
“This is a legal vendetta. What you did was not.”
“You have a point. However, your scout teams ate our people, which was considered an unforgiveable atrocity by us.”
“I was unaware this happened,” Var’at said, the translation sounding sincere. “Some of our people occasionally get out of control.”
“The attack on your innocents was perpetrated by an out of control member of our species.” Minu ran a hand through her sweaty hair and thought before continuing. “Considering all that has happened between us, I am offering you a concession of at least neutrality between our peoples. Your release is a gesture to this effect.”
“It will have to be considered by higher ranking leaders than myself. You humans are strange beings. I do not know if I’ve ever seen your like in all the galaxy.”
“I don’t believe we are that unique.”
“I hope, for our sake, that you are.”
Minu laughed and shook her head. “I was wondering if you would answer one thing.”
“If I am allowed to under the rules of our vendetta.”
“Fair enough. How did you find us? The location of this world has been carefully hidden by our patrons, the Tog.”
Var’at reached into a pouch. Minu didn’t worry; she knew that when a Rasa surrendered, they stayed that way. From the pouch he removed an unmistakable item. It was a Chosen-issue entrenching tool, made on Bellatrix. “This was found near the site of our slaughtered colony. The metal in it has a unique chemical content. The ores you used are from this world. In the Concordian database there are spectral recordings from every known world in the galaxy. It was like leaving us a map.” Minu nodded. It was another thing Ivan Malovich had to answer for. “And what of our equipment?”
“It is sacrificed. You will be held under favorable conditions until the vendetta is officially concluded.”
“That is reasonable. Now, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes, with the same qualifications you placed on my question.”
“What are those weapons called?”
“They are shock rifles.”
“Amazing,” he hissed, the envy coming through the translator intact. “We came expecting the few hundred stolen beamcasters. Tactics dictated a frontal assault, followed by bot shock troops. Beamcasters would not have matched that.”
“You are right, they would not have. These are new.”
Var’at nodded his long head in a very human-looking gesture, then asked one more question. “Perhaps if our peoples’ relationship is not permanently one of unending hostilities, we could agree to trade? I know our nest leaders would highly value these weapons.”
Minu smiled big and laughed. They’d found some common ground after all. “Who knows what the future will bring?”
* * *
Julast 17th, 518 AE
Governing Council Chamber, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
The council chamber in Tranquility sported a new feature after the assault. About a third of the ancient dome had collapsed during the fighting. They’d cleared away most of the debris, and the afternoon sun shone into the old building. Considering the dizzying array of Concordian weapons she’d read about, she considered Bellatrix extremely lucky their first true alien conflict involved a species nearly as poor as themselves.
Minu once again found herself in one of those uncomfortable public situations she detested. The world council of Bellatrix, composed of representatives from all the tribes, gathered. It took two days for them to arrive by maglev and aerocar. The vendetta was due to expire in less than
one day, and she was looking forward to that even less than this meeting.
Dram stood on the huge wooden stage behind a podium, speaking over the public-address system. He provided a detailed account of the brief battle, and the costs they paid. Minu had read the report hours earlier and knew the mind-numbing numbers. Two hundred and eleven Chosen were dead, another seventy injured, and ten would be retired because of their injuries. She’d wanted to see the list, but Dram had refused to show it to her. “More important things to attend at this time,” he’d said, and then detailed her with the liberation of Tranquility.
Two thousand, five hundred, and ninety-two civilians were also dead. All but fifty of them died in Tranquility. Most of the rest were in Minsk. Only a single civilian medic, caught by an unnoticed centipede-bot during the attack on Steven’s Pass, died there. Material damage was impossible to estimate. Hundreds of buildings were destroyed during the rampage in Tranquility. The food distribution facility in Minsk suffered severe damage, and the Steven’s Pass complex was in sad shape. Dram began wrapping it up.
“In summation, considering the forces we faced and the sudden, unexpected nature of this vendetta, we have come through with very little loss of life.”
“I’m sorry, did you say very little?” Minu didn’t have to look to see who’d spoken. The accent and arrogance of the Malovich family was enough by itself for recognition. “Thousands are dead because of you, Chosen, getting us into a damned war!”