Annals of the Keepers - Rage

by Christiaan Hile

  The officer approached a suspended and seated operator. “I received your report. What’s the status?”

  The operator in the holo-sphere moved the bubble of data around him until he had the individual section he wanted in front of him.

  He tapped the translucent rectangle.

  The holo-image removed itself from the sphere wall, hovering in front of the operator who then rotated the rectangle with a twisting motion at the bottom and pushed it through the walled image of light to the officer on the outside.

  “We ran the data three times through verification. We can say with certainty that the missing Reaver Jens Dryden has been moved by the Kryth to another location,” the operator responded to his superior.

  The officer took hold of the data cell and scrolled through the information himself. “I see the DNA marker active.”

  “Yes, sir. We picked up the trail by deus antenna 238B in sector 89-2. It looks as though the Kryth were transporting the body away from the mining asteroid they rescued the Reaver Ramek from.”

  The officer looked at the operator. “I don’t see that indication listed here.”

  “Correct, sir. The marker signal was stronger than the first recording that Lieutenant Commander Temin recovered, which inferred it was Jens’ body.”

  “I see. Excellent work. Pass this on to Ordinance command.”

  The officer slid the floating data cell to the operator as it passed back through the sphere of holographic light.

  “One last thing, sir. Do you want me to pass the information through the core logic process, just to be safe regarding our tracking?” the operator asked.

  The officer contemplated the question for a moment before he responded, “No. We are changing out the core logic with the new Sent-A.I. we plan to use. Send the information through to command directly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The officer left the sphere and moved onto the next one a few feet away where a female operator was working her station.

  “Good morning, sir,” she greeted upon seeing him.

  “Good morning. How’re the new wormhole sensors coming along?”

  “They’re online, but we haven’t picked up any signs of tendril matter. We are still calibrating them from the data we received from the Orion’s Rage.”

  The officer smiled. “That’s going to be the tricky part, now isn’t it?”

  “It already is.”

  “Continue on.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “One last thing. Any news on my good friend, Rels Sentel? Any information on his whereabouts?”

  “No, sir. We’re still scanning all devices and contacts. We haven’t compiled the latest intel; but, so far there are no signs of him or the Cuukzen. Their last known location was the planet Enil-lok”

  “I see. Thank you. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Data Cell 11

  The young Vrae was nervous.

  As he should be, thought Lintorth.

  The Four-Fold Gods had created all and set their children to fend for themselves against the dark and dangerous universe. The galaxy held many beautiful and wondrous things, but it would also crush any being foolish enough to let their guard down or for a split second believe they were powerful enough not to be concerned with the immutable laws of nature.

  Nature always won.

  It was uncaring, unmoved, and unstoppable. Fate would rip a Kryth or a Vrae alike into shreds and laugh at their dismay. One could always achieve success and ride on the euphoric waves of victory, but defeat was always just a breath away. It could be a cruel and harsh existence, as this overconfident Vrae would learn, just as Lintorth had.

  “Terms,” snapped Lintorth, ignoring the array of weapons focused on himself.

  “Terms?” queried the Heir, taken aback, his voice unsettled.

  “Yes. Terms, stripling. Offered to foes to negotiate surrender,” Lintorth said as a mentor would lecture a ward.

  “Are you surrendering then, Kryth?” said the Heir.

  “No,” Lintorth laughed, echoed by Voskal Lat’s own laughter. “I thought you might enjoy a brief moment as the victorious warrior before you die.”

  Lintorth could not see the Heir’s expression, hidden underneath his jewel-encrusted helm, but his shift in posture belied his emotions, as did his quick confused glance at his vartis beside him.

  A translated Vrae phrase trailed off with “… die?” as the vartis’ armored hand clamped down in pain on the Heir’s shoulder and spun him towards the front rank of the distant Vrae formation.

  “Get back inside,” hissed the vartis. The unspoken word “run” not vocalized, but implied. The vartis caught himself. “My Heir,” he added, stepping forward to block both Lintorth and Voskal Lat from following the young Vrae aristocrat.

  The light from his zontar glowed, pulsing with more light as it had before.

  He held a short, broad-bladed sword in his right hand. He was relaxed, confident, and ready to fight. Wasting no further words on threats, he stood ready to meet his foes.

  Lintorth spoke. “May your duty grant you honor to your clan and blood to appease your gods,” appraising him as a worthy adversary by quoting an ancient Vrae proverb of combat.

  “Unleash fury, focus rage, and let your blade ring cold and your blood hot” countered the Vartis, quoting the dusty Kryth Tome of Aggression; an obscure and ancient book that no Kryth read anymore, except pedantic ones such as Lintorth.

  “A pity that your Heir did not study military tactics more ardent,” said Lintorth. “You and your comrades,” Lingtorth continued, indicating the other Vrae, “will pay with your deaths for his recklessness.”

  “I am Vartis,” the Vrae warrior stated without boast or rancor. “I care nothing for your threats, Kryth.” The last word was translated with the appropriate amount of scorn. The Vartis clenched his left hand as he seemed to be fighting the urge to fire the zontar, or he was fighting the weapon itself to keep it from firing.

  That observation intrigued Lintorth.

  Gashnee technology, no doubt. But one that perhaps shared a mental link with the wearer? Psychic even? Was the Vartis in control of the eerie weapon or struggling to keep it in check? Terrible tales of Gashnee technologies had always circulated throughout the Domain. Whether they were true or rumors, some sent chills down Lintorth’s spine.

  “I would have killed you as soon as we landed,” confessed the Vartis, his voice growing colder. “Alas, the Heir of Dal Karsis,” he went on with a tinge of exasperation in his voice, “wanted to impress you.”

  “A pity…” A gleaming Keslar blade hissed from the sheath on Lintorth’s side. The razor-sharp edge glinted against the reddish, dusty backdrop of Oxgris.

  ∞∞∞

  Slertis, Heir of Dal Karsis, walked towards the double rank of Vrae soldiers. His shoulder ached where the Vartis had grabbed him. As much as he hurt in the flesh, his pride hurt more.

  Did the Kryth and his own Vartis think him too young to engage in affairs of the Empire and Domain? The large Kryth had been insulting and his mocking tone had infuriated him.

  Passing through the ranks of Vrae soldiers, shoving some out of his way, Slertis advanced to the rear to once again stand between a pair of Vartis guards.

  He ignored them, deep in thought and upset. The bleak, red landscape wasn’t helping.

  How dare that Kryth treat him with such discourtesy?

  No.

  It wasn’t his lack of courtesy that enraged him. It was something more that stung his pride. It was his indifference. Yes, he admitted to himself. That was it. Indifference to him as an equal and potential threat hurt him much worse than a sore shoulder.

  He was born to a house of great leaders and warriors, Slertis recited to himself, bolstering a growing rage. He would be great one day, powerful enough to advance the legacy of his forefathers and perhaps to even make the Kryth wary where he treads among the stars.

  The sudden eruption of weapons to his front startled him f
rom his introspection, as did the sudden screams across the closed communications channel of his fellow Vrae.

  Casual clashes between planetary powers were events that happened with some frequency between threats and treaties. Skirmishes between galactic superpowers, such as the Vrae Empire and the Kryth Domain, often led to many local civilizations left in ruin.

  The Vartis facing Lintorth watched Lintorth’s blade and beast alike as they both began to circle him. He crouched, confident that he could slay at least one and wound the other before he might have to give ground.

  He was calm and ready.

  Then, ten Korin Shai materialized out of the wasteland.

  He fired a fraction of a second later as the chaos erupted.

  Data Cell 12

  Kercy walked through the Reaver complex on Veriton, the moon which orbited Janus.

  She had just finished dressing down after cleaning up from her final test she had with the Creep mech.

  She had made the team and had passed the final indoctrination, but felt she was still out of her element amongst her new team members.

  After all, she had joined the mission to rescue Ramek just a few days after leaving her basic regimental training.

  Kercy smiled at the memory.

  She knew what this meant, for she was the first female Reaver.

  Being a female didn’t matter, as all citizens were equal in all things, but because she was the product of the first XX chromosome pair to be inserted into the Reaver Matrix.

  She understood this was due to the Precept created in 195 P.E., to protect the new colony.

  Since men were the soldiers for the new colony at the time, woman served as the nurturer of the expanding population.

  When the cities and defenses were built and Humans were able to protect itself from external threats, the societal gender roles were removed.

  It was at this period that Doctor Solome’s mother introduced the additional X chromosome into the Reaver Matrix.

  Once her mother passed, Doctor Solome continued her work at the Reaver facility and oversaw the production of the first female Reaver.

  She knew her position didn’t guarantee entry into the Reaver regiments, as not all Reaver’s born make the ranks of the elite.

  She had to work at it. She had to pass all the tests. She had to be treated as an equal, with no special provisions or standards adjustments.

  Kercy did these things and did them at the top of her class.

  She was the first.

  This means something, she thought, holding her helmet in her lap. But, she still felt out of place amongst the others. For they had been together a lot longer. What she needed was to be humble and learn from them.

  Though she knew each member, both from their profiles and from fighting beside them, she felt there was still something missing.

  She approached the rec room.

  No better time like the present, she thought.

  Kercy could hear laughter coming from inside.

  She peered in.

  There, sitting on lounge chairs, were Keelen and Maddox. They were watching RAS suit imagery from past missions, laughing and eating.

  She thought about going in, but contemplated otherwise, as she wasn’t on any of those missions.

  Those were personal and private.

  You had to have been there.

  Kercy continued down the corridor until she came to the weapon prep room where she saw Ramek working at a station.

  She didn’t mind razing Ramek at all.

  “Can I come in?”

  Ramek didn’t look up. “Come in if you want to.”

  She made her way into the room and over to the large counter Ramek was sitting at.

  The device Ramek worked on drew Kercy’s stare.

  After a few moments, her curiosity got the best of her. “What are you working on there? Some type of weapon?”

  “A rotor and breech-bolt housing.”

  “I’m not familiar with the nomenclature, but I’m sure it has to do with a weapon, correct?”

  Ramek adjusted the metal housing with a gauge tool.

  He didn’t answer her.

  Kercy wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or not.

  “I said I think it’s a–”

  “I heard you. One moment,” Ramek grunted, trying to turn a ring inside the metal housing.

  He put all his strength behind it.

  “GRRRAAAAA!”

  The tool snapped.

  Kercy chuckled under her breath while lowering her head so Ramek wouldn’t see her.

  Ramek pushed the device aside. “Think you could do better?” He said, staring at her while she failed to hide her laughter. “Well, can you?”

  “If I knew what to do, maybe.”

  Ramek huffed, “The inner ring needs to fit between the ring guides there.”

  “And the tool?”

  “The gauge tracks along the ring so it sits between the guides. Simple.”

  “Okay, sure. I’ll give it a go.”

  She grabbed the metal housing and a new tool from a bin on the table.

  Kercy began fiddling with the unknown device.

  “So, Ramek, what is this thing?”

  “It’s a rotor for a mechanical weapon I’m designing.”

  She stopped with what she was doing and looked up. “Mechanical? That’s a bit old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

  “Like using a sword to kill a mech? That kind of old-fashioned?” Ramek retorted.

  “Or a rock?” Kercy responded without missing a beat.

  “Something like that.”

  “Tell me about this weapon you’re creating. curious…since my hand is inside this metal ring of yours,” she said with a smile, continuing her focus on the housing and aligning the tool with the ring.

  “Remember that strange electrical interference we had with our RAS systems when we were in that Gashnee scout ship?”

  “Yes. My micro-rockets had problems activating.”

  “We all had problems. Something interfered with the hardened infrastructure of our internal systems.”

  “Doctor Solome is working on that, isn’t she?”

  “She is, but I want to make sure it doesn’t happen again. That’s why I’m working on this mechanical plasma cannon,” Ramek explained with a broad, almost villainous, smile.

  “I see. So, there are no neuro-inputs from the weapon to our suits?”

  “Correct. A mechanical firing mechanism.”

  “How did you solve the plasma charges?”

  “I used an old Earth design. The plasma is encased in a jacket that is triggered by a mechanical firing pin. It sets off the charge and the plasma is released.”

  Ramek reached down next to him and pulled up a short seven-barreled rotary section.

  He slammed it on the table.

  She fliched a bit in her seat from the sudden movement and rucus.

  “These are the barrels which attach to that housing your holding.”

  “What’s the rate of fire?” she asked.

  “It was one thousand rounds per minute, but I’m trying to increase that to three thousand a minute, if the inner tenzinen coating doesn’t melt down first.”

  Kercy sat down the housing she was clutching. “There.”

  “‘There’ what?” Ramek raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m done.”

  “Wait…you’re done?” He grabbed the housing to inspect it. “Well, well. I might have to keep your small hands around.”

  “Makes sense and all. Those meathooks you call hands probably couldn’t get a good grip on it. You just need a softer touch.”

  “Nice work, Kercy.”

  “No comeback?”

  Ramek smirked. “Nope. Not this time. I know decent work when I see it.”

  She clasped her hands, moving her forearms forward on the table towards the massive brute opposite her. “Like the work I did to that mech?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take that for now
.”

  They both smiled at each other.

  Kercy got what she wanted.

  A little respect from the biggest guy on the team.

  Their company was broken by a computer notification.

  A male voice intoned, [Briefing room update in ten minutes. Update on Reaver Jens Dryden. Keres Reaver team all present.]

  Kercy saw Ramek’s instant reaction to the broadcast message.

  She’d seen similar looks before on others, but Ramek’s expression was sheer hope that his brother-in-arms would be coming through the door at any minute.

  Ramek and Jens’ friendship was well-known to all Reavers. It was more than the common bond all soldiers share in a unit, a fellowship that exists between those who have fought and died next to one another in battle. A link so strong that not even the great distance and vastness of space could ever truly separate them.

  Ramek looked at her, that spark of hope bright in his eyes. “You think they found him?”

  “I hope so, big guy.”

  “Me too.”

  “Shall we head to the briefing?”

  Ramek’s expression changed in front of her, as if a mag-sled had been turned off. “In a minute,” he said, “I’ll catch up to you.”

  His head slumped down from that glimmer of anticipation.

  “You okay, Ramek?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll catch up.”

  “Okay. See you there.”

  She walked towards the door, but stopped short. “Thanks for letting me see your new toy.”

  Ramek didn’t move or look in her direction. “I’ll let you fire it once I put it together.”

  Kercy smiled. “I would like that.”

  She watched him for a moment, taking in the emotions she had never seen in the overgrown Reaver.

  She left him alone for now, parting towards the briefing chamber.

  ∞∞∞

  “Did we find him?” Ramek just about shouted out as Kason entered the briefing room.

  “Please have a seat, Ramek. We will get to that in a moment.”

  The largest Reaver sat back down next to Kercy.

  All team members were present.

  Each Reaver sat on a bench organized into a semicircle with a podium at the center as they waited the update on Jens.