StarDestroyer.Net BBS

“War is a fundamental part of man’s existence; it is the benchmark by which we define our history and culture. Peace, while an admirable ideal, goes against everything we as a people stand for. War may indeed be hell, but for some of us, it may very well be the only path to heaven…”

- Cameron Blackblade,
Commander-in-Chief of the Nerimian Defense Initiative



PROLOGUE: THE MORNING SUN

Red Sands ATAC Base, Class III Military Facility

It was known as the red planet from way back in the 20th century, but today Mars was much like its cousin, Earth, in terms of climate and atmosphere. While the carbon dioxide content was substantially higher than that of Earth, Mars had been transformed into another place that Humanity could call home. Much to the chagrin of sci-fi authors of the previous century, there were no crazed green men waiting for the Space Marine Expeditionary Forces as they first set foot on the red-pigmented soil of Mars. In fact, there was little indigenous life on the world at all save for some rugged strains of bacteria – none of which were dangerous to Humans.

Increased colonization efforts had transported over 25 million people to Mars in the past twenty years, and the first and second generations of native-born Martians were starting to come of age. Hydroponic farms littered the red planet’s landscape in order to feed the population of the planet. New techniques had allowed the farm operators to actually produce a surplus, most of which was freeze-dried and shipped off to less fortunate colonies throughout Confederation space or put in deep storage in the event of famine. Mining for valuable minerals, especially deposits of iron ore buried deep beneath the planet’s surface, had become a lucrative business, especially for Neo Star Macrotechnologies, the premier heavy industrial corporation operating in space. Iron ore in and of itself wasn’t too valuable, but it could be transformed into andrium and tritanium alloy, which was of significant industrial and military value. Because of this, several ore processing plants were stationed on Mars, which provided jobs for the growing population. These plants were ultimately subordinate to the main artificially intelligent manufactory, or AIM.

The AIM was a massive complex that was driven by a complex artificially-intelligent computer. These military-industrial complexes were the main powerhouse behind the Nerimian Defense Initiative’s war machine. These facilities were so important that each one was protected by a heavy contingent of military forces consisting of ground, aerospace, and naval assets.

The Red Sands Advanced Tactical Armored Corps Base was a Class III Military Facility, which was only indicative of the base’s sheer size. It’s above ground size was fairly small, with the main civilian liaison station and a few other buildings exposed to view. The underground portion, however, was massive. The sheer square footage of the facility was measured in square miles, which was a feat of superscalar construction that would’ve been impossible prior to the Space Age. Two complete ATAC legions were stationed here: The 4th Mars Lancers Armored and the 1st Raiden Infantry, both veteran-level units.

The base was under the command of a Lieutenant General David Cantrell, a respected officer, though pretty low on the food chain in other terms. Given Mars’ proximity to Earth, it was one of the most heavily defended bases in the entire Nerimian Confederation, which ultimately meant that no enemy would be able to penetrate so far into Confederate-held space. So while his forces were kept in relatively good supply, the 4th Lancers and 1st Raiden were not prestige units by any measure of the word.

But that would soon change.

When news of the 3rd Fleet’s victory in Ursa Prime came three months before, the people of the Confederation were jubilant. The Jaaq’tah military machine, which many had believed was unstoppable, had been dealt a major blow not by the forces of the Draconian Alliance, but the pride of Humanity: The NDI.

Military forces across the Confederation had suddenly been activated for an operation that would require every capable unit. If the NDI could crush the Jaaq’tah forces in their own territory, there would be no need to defend the homeland. Cantrell immediately volunteered his forces for front-line duty, believing that his boys were willing and able of putting the lizard-like Jaaq’tah in their place. The Confederate Strategic Command had chosen Cantrell’s units along with two elite-level units from the Antares Military District to begin the opening assault on Guardias.

If one were to look at Mars now, he would see it bustling with activity as tremendous amounts of resources was being gathered for the operation, codenamed ‘Holy Crusade’ by the High Command. Thousands of NDI drop ships and warships were in the immediate vicinity of Mars as hundreds of thousands of troops were preparing for their departure.

In the streets of Lexington, the capital, ATAC forces marched in a parade where 1.7 million people had come out to greet those who would go fight on their behalf against a merciless foe. Husbands left wives, brothers left mothers, and daughters left fathers. It seemed as if everyone had a family member or close friend going off to fight in the war. Some of them would not return, but the end result was never in question; the Confederation would emerge victorious and those who died would forever be remembered as heroes.

As the massive armada of ships slipped into hyperspace to embark on their epic journey, billions across the Confederation watched and prayed for their safety. The yellow-white sun of Sol was soon replaced by the ominous blue-white ball of fire known as Guardias. Operation Holy Crusade had begun.



Red Star Citadel, Crius Prime – Special Forces Command (SOCOM)

Cameron Blackblade was an imposing figure for anyone who ever saw him face to face. On television, he looked like the typical military commander: tall, physically fit, and stone cold. But in person, all of that was magnified ten thousand fold. He stood at six feet, three inches, with dark, raven colored hair that was cut rather short. His eyes were technically brown, but to the casual observer, they too were jet black, as if they were dark, swirling voids. His skin was fairly dark as well, but not enough for him to be confused with a person of African descent. Even with his military uniform on, one could see that he kept himself in shape and was probably capable of hanging with the best of his elite soldiers. His warrior heritage was shown by the fact that he always carried a Japanese sword with him no matter where he went. Most members of the press considered this a bit too militant, but Blackblade never paid attention to the opinions of the press.

He was a man of necessity, never doing or even thinking about anything unless it was absolutely essential to the task at hand. He wasn’t a man of many words, but when he spoke the world had no choice but to heed his wisdom. His analytical skills were incredible, allowing him to devise military strategies and tactics that even the greatest of military minds couldn’t fathom. His understanding of technology and its applications on the 21st century battlefield was impeccable and no one knew the military quite as he did.

To put it simply: Cameron Blackblade was a military genius. His role in the formation of the Nerimian Defense Initiative was undeniable as he not only garnered the necessary political support for a unified Confederate military force, but gained a controlling interest in the largest military defense contractors in order to ensure the strength of a military-industrial economy.

Phoenix Corporation and its chief rival, Argus
Macrotechnologies, were essentially in the pocket of Blackblade and those in his very small inner circle and everyone knew it. Charges of corruption had come his way, but Blackblade was able to shrug it all off with little worry or effort on his part. He had ways to take care of those who wished to attack him and what was important to him.

His role as the commander-in-chief of the armed forces was perhaps the most powerful job in the Confederation. While he didn’t have the power to control the domestic agenda or any other function of government, the military was loyal to him alone, and that was just the way he liked it. He didn’t have to deal with the nonsense that Prime Minister Edwards and his cabal of corrupt politicians did. His sole focus was waging war on behalf of the Confederation.

He called it ‘peace through overwhelming strength’, a doctrine that called for as large a military as the nation could afford. It was Cameron’s idea that peace could not be won through negotiation and appeasement, but only through the threat of annihilation. Criticized by some because of the sheer arrogance and audacity of a doctrine, the doctrine was nonetheless a successful one. Those who had tried to test the NDI’s might were crushed completely and efficiently, with very minimal losses.

But today, the NDI along with its newfound allies were fighting a foe that hotly contested every combat zone. Massed blitzkrieg-like assaults were the norm, as the Jaaq’tah Alliance had a tremendous amount of forces to throw at any element of the allied forces. Only through perseverance and sheer tenacity had the allies been able to beat back the enemy in Ursa and Vox. For the first time, Cameron was not absolutely sure that his soldiers had what was necessary to take the battle to the enemy, but instead of it scaring him, it actually emboldened him. Finally, he had come across an enemy that was a worthy challenge.

But something wasn’t rubbing him the right way. The battles of Ursa and Vox were hard fought, but they just seemed far too easy when one put it in perspective. While Admiral Xeraux’s Third Fleet was a powerful force, how was it that his forces swept through the Jaaq’tah Crimson Fleet the way it did? The Vaishan and Altaran forces were every bit as formidable, though smaller in number, but it just didn’t add up. Cameron was being cautious, wanting to think out every possible variable just to proof himself against a strategic error. Guardias was going to be the sight of a major battle that would be remembered for centuries. He just had to make sure that he came out on the right side of that battle.



The incessant ringing of her com-unit brought Commander Alicia Clark from her slumber suddenly. Her right hand instinctively moved over to her bedside table and grasps the cellular phone-like device and put it up to her right ear. “Clark, here.”

Clark’s eyes immediately came open and she oriented herself, sitting up in her bed and swinging her legs over to the edge to get to her feet. “Alright. I’ll be there in fifteen. Discom.” She clicked off the device and placed it back down where it was, heading to the bathroom to get ready.

She washed her face for a good two minutes before hopping into the shower, setting the water temperature at a preferable and the timer for three minutes. As she let the hot water cascade across her body, she thought about the priority alert sent to her via a secured channel, letting a sigh escape her lips. She wondered what kind of mission it was this time. Probably another deep strike mission inside enemy territory, she thought. The military operation that was probably already underway would require some deep strikes to take out strategic assets that couldn’t be done by bomber. Still, she doubted it. The Spacy Marines had a decent special forces element that would suffice for the job. No, this mission was of more importance, she convinced herself. This was something that could probably get her killed.

Which was all the more reason for her to be excited.

After her shower, Alicia prepared to get dressed in her uniform, clicking on the trideo screen to see what the latest news updates were. She froze in her place as she saw images of Confederate warships clashing with Jaaq’tah vessels in what she assumed was Guardias. The screen suddenly flashed white for a good five seconds as a cruiser was outright obliterated by enemy fire. Her VIRGIL went off again and she went over to answer it.

“Clark.”

“Good Morning, Commander.”

The voice on the other end was chilling to the sound of Alicia’s ears. It was that of Cameron Blackblade. Alicia almost felt flustered for a second but maintained her cool. “Same to you, sir.”

“Instead of meeting with Commodore O’Malley, I would like for you and your team to meet me in my office ASAP. I’ll expect you and your team in nine minutes. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. We will be there in seven.”

“Good, I’ll hold you to that. Discom.”

“Discom, sir.”

Alicia hurried to put on her uniform, complete with sidearm and headed out of the door. This must be a really important mission of the Commander called her personally. Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine: This was probably a suicide mission.

NSS Hurricane – Guardias System
1st Space Marine Expeditionary Force, 5th Spacy Fleet

“Sector Alpha 7G has been secured, let’s move!” snapped the tactical action officer onboard the NSS Hurricane, a large Genbu-class interstellar fleet transport. The sensors of the mammoth ship of war showed the projected landing zone where the Hurricane would launch her drop ships onto Guardias IV and begin orbital bombardment against pre-selected targets on the surface below. The Hurricane’s ion impulse drives sent her hurtling towards her projected launch zone where enemy orbital defense guns began volleying massive blasts of plasma towards the transport and her escorting vessels. The ship began to shake as the plasma bolts began to crash against the deflector shields with tremendous impact.

“Shield integrity at 80 percent, sir!” said the officer in charge of the shielding systems. “We’re taking hits on the forward and starboard quadrants, but I believe they’ll hold long enough for us to launch our drop ships!”

“Good! Con-Weapons begin powering up the main guns. Let’s fry these assholes!” ordered Captain Bernard Warner, his eyes keenly fixated upon the myriad of holographic screens in front of him feeding him various streams of data. It was almost overwhelming, but years of practice had made this almost second nature. The five seconds it took for the energy capacitors of the high-powered beam cannons on the port and starboard turrets to power up seemed like minutes, but when the mighty guns spoke, everyone knew it. Aqua streams of energy streaked through space at light speed and entered Guardias’ atmosphere, converting the surrounding atmosphere into superheated plasma with its energy. The beams didn’t score a direct hit, but the ensuing blast wave took out one of the targeted defense guns outright and damaged the other. The second salvo managed to totally disable the defense battery and cleared the way for the drop ships.

“Sir, we are at the edge of the drop ship’s maximum range!” replied the hangar operations officer.

Warner clenched his teeth and watched as one of his escorting frigates was cut in two by multiple beam blasts. “Good god! Launch drop ships! I repeat, launch all drop ships now!”

“Launching drop ships!” said the hangar operations officer, the multiple hangars opening up on the ventral, aft, and bow of the vessel, releasing 125 Dragonfly series drop ships. The vessels were dwarfed by the sheer size of the Hurricane, but each Dragonfly was roughly the size of a football field in length and diameter. The transport’s heavy missile launchers began rapid-firing missile-like objects towards the planet as well, but these weren’t missiles, but instead high-powered rocket sleds that would help SF-26 interceptors enter the atmosphere safely to defend against aerial attack. Three minutes later, all rocket sleds and drop ships had been launched from the Hurricane. “All empty, sir!”

“Con-Propulsion, continue forward and move into bombardment orbit!” said Captain Warner. “Con-Weapons, reload missile tubes with Starhammers! Fire all guns at the planet, now!"



“Troops are just beginning to land, sir,” said General Kefka Wallace, turning to Admiral Vladimir Ruzhyó, the commander of the Fifth Fleet. “1st and 2nd Marine Expeditionary will be hitting the ground in the next five minutes. 8th and 9th Genyosha and the 2nd Raiden will be hitting their landing sites within the hour.”

Ruzhyó nodded, looking at the main holographic screen showing graphical representations of his ground forces deploying into action. Nearly two million personnel were being deployed into action – the single largest deployment of Confederate military personnel since the Mizadi War. “What percentage of enemy defense sites has been destroyed?”

“Seventy-five percent,” replied General Wallace. “The ones that have not been hit are heavily fortified positions that we just can’t crack, but once we get forces on the ground, we can eliminate these sites with commandos.”

“Casualty estimates?”

“Anywhere between 55,000 and 80,000 – and that’s a conservative estimate.”

Ruzhyó smirked. That seemed fairly low, but they were fighting crack Jaaq’tah units that had unseated allied forces months before on the same planet, which meant that losses could exceed 100,000. Hopefully, the politicians wouldn’t balk at the casualty count and let him win the damned war. “Worst case scenario?”

“120,000.”

Ruzhyó frowned, grasping his customary bottle of vodka and bringing it to his lips, taking a drink. “Do whatever it takes.”

“Use of tactical nuclear weapons is authorized, am I to assume?”

“Whatever it takes…”



Red Star Citadel, Crius Prime – Situation Room

The Red Star Citadel was the underground command fortress where the majority of all combat data from all theaters of operations flowed seamlessly into the massive data processing centers. From this location, the High Command could monitor the progress and issue large scale orders to the battlefield from afar.

As a result, the facility was in a state of high tension as Commander Alicia Clark exited the elevator that brought her to the underground floor where the SOCOM situation room was located. As she walked through the corridor, junior officers and NCOs began to halt and salute her and Alicia instinctively returned the salutes as she made her approach. She issued the final salute and turned into the situation room, to see her five subordinates sitting at the round table, apparently waiting on their commander.

All five officers stood up, saluting Alicia as she stepped into the secured room. Alicia returned the salutes. “As you were.” She maneuvered to the seat next to her second-in-command, Lieutenant Commander Ashton DeGaulle.

DeGaulle was a large man, weighing somewhere in the neighborhood of 230 pounds and standing about six feet, four inches. He had short, reddish-brown hair and hunter green eyes and a grim expression that was evidence of his uncanny cynicism. He was a former Marine sniper during the Mizadi Wars and had proven himself during several commando operations with the 1st Ryuken’s Grey Rangers, which had impressed Clark enough to choose him for her team. Given his Marine background, he was a no nonsense individual, which means she could trust him to keep the others in line.

Next to DeGaulle was Lieutenant Xero Hokusha, the consummate overachiever in the group. He was a ‘new breed of soldier’, the High Command had told her, but Alicia had just thought all the time and resources they spent on putting together this guy on the genetic level was wasted on ego. Despite Xero’s incessant spouting off about how damn good he was, he usually delivered when it mattered – and on occasion, when it didn’t. He and his brother, Proto, were both byproducts of the Human Evolution Project, a top-secret initiative to forcibly evolve Humanity to deal with the threats of the Space Age. Alicia, too, was a product of this project, but she was natural-born, unlike Xero and Proto.

Finally, there was the token female of the group, Lieutenant Arete Nyte. Like Proto and Xero, she was a test tube creation but it was obvious that all males were used to create this one. She was a tall, slim, and busty female with blonde hair and a slight twinge of conceitedness, but not quite as much as the men. Maybe females were just more reasonable than men.

“Any idea why they woke me up early today, Commander?” said Xero, drumming his fingertips impatiently on the surface of the table.

“I know about as much as you do,” replied Alicia curtly, giving Xero a cold stare and then looking back to DeGaulle. “But I’ll have to assume that our operation has to do with supporting the ground forces on Guardias IV.”

“I anticipated such an action,” said DeGaulle in response, touching a button on his console and bringing up a holographic representation of available assets. “Our transport is ready and stocked with everything we’ll need for an extended operation if need be. I also called up two reserve units just in case we need some special skills or extra manpower.”

“Wolf and Raven, I presume?”

“Affirmative.”

A loud scoff was heard coming from the other side of the table. “Oh, come on! Wolf and Raven? Those two clowns aren’t reliable in the least. Besides, we don’t need them anyway. We can handle this shit ourselves. Hell, I’ll handle it myself if need be,” said Xero.

“Get your head out of your ass, Xero,” said Proto, the more reserved and disciplined brother. “We should accept whatever help we can get.”

Alicia was about to reaffirm Proto’s position before she heard the clicking of power armor’s feet on the floor. Two suits of armor walked into the room and stood on adjacent sides of the door before Cameron Blackblade walked into the room, dark brown colored eyes scanning the room quickly. All members of the Orion Team stood up and offered their salutes to their commander-in-chief, standing at perfect attention. Cameron returned the salutes. “At ease.”

Alicia felt that mixed rush of emotion she always felt whenever she saw Cameron for the first time on any given day. Even the middle of all this carnage, there was a certain amount of joy, admiration, even of love.

Cameron’s expression was not grim, but as he habitually wore it, neutral. To a man like Cameron Blackblade, emotion was a detriment so he did whatever he could to ensure that he conveyed them as little as possible.
Therefore, his intentions and motives were always mysterious, and perhaps it was that mysterious element that intrigued Alicia so much about the commander-in-chief.

“This is Saida’k, the Crown Prince of the Jaaq’tah Alliance,” said Cameron, deciding not to waste time with introductions. A holographic projection showed a dragon-like creature with dark, charcoal grey-colored scales and amber-colored eyes. “He’s coordinating the Jaaq’tah’s defense efforts in Guardias and the whole Cygni Sector. Decapitating the leadership of their defenses will be a major blow to enemy morale and will facilitate easier movement into enemy territory. Your unit has been selected for the mission given your expertise in penetrating deep into enemy territory and extracting yourselves relatively undetected. Your mission is simple: Capture or Kill Prince Saida’k.”

“His known whereabouts?” asked Alicia.

“Guardias IV. Intelligence sources tell us that he’s doing everything he can to stop our offensive in its tracks. If he can defeat or at least deal significant casualties on our ground forces, he can force us into an unfavorable position when we try to take the next system. You’ll be working in conjunction with Confederate forces on the ground. You’ll have complete mission autonomy, but you’ll be able to patch into their resources if you feel the need to,” replied Cameron. “You have eighteen hours to prepare for deployment. Dismissed.”




Guardias IV – 1st Spacy Marine Expeditionary Force, Fifth Spacy Fleet

Sergeant Franklin Turner’s GEV-43C hovercraft squad sped across the rocky terrain of Guardias IV at speeds exceeding two hundred kilometers per hour, racing quickly to blow open the flank of an enemy armored formation. The Jaaq’tah were a shady bunch of fighters on the ground, using blitzkrieg tactics on one front while using smaller units to harass the enemy elsewhere. Their units didn’t have quite the punch of the NDI’s, but what they lacked in quality, they made up for in numbers. Jaaq’tah infantry units outnumbered Confederate infantry 5 to 1, which meant that massed infantry assaults were a common thing on every front.

“I’m reading multiple radar contacts bearing 204,206, and 208! They’re moving in low and fast!” said Lance Corporal Kerry Thayer, looking at her radar screen. “Drake gunships moving in quickly – we’re being painted!”

Sergeant Turner frowned, his rear countermeasures launcher launching multiple canisters of ‘black window’ smoke, which would scramble the laser targeting systems used by the enemy gunships. Two other GEVs did the same, giving the twelve unit detachment some time to formulate a response. “This is Sword One, we are coming under attack from three enemy gunships moving on us quickly, request air support!”

“Roger, we read you. Rerouting Chimera Four and Five to your position now. ETA is 120 seconds,” replied Tactical Command.

“Alright, boys, you heard ‘em, let’s keep their attention just a bit longer!” said Turner, activating his 15mm PDS turret which began tracking one of the enemy gunships and starting to fire, the electronic vulcan unleashing some 350 rounds in less than three seconds. The rounds were fed from a rear ammo cassette containing a mixture of armor-piercing, explosive, and incendiary rounds. While typically used to defeat incoming enemy missiles, the high-velocity rounds could also be used for anti-personnel and close-range anti-air roles. The squadron separated into four groups of three, each group shifting positions and creating overlapping lines of fire to keep the gunships completely off balance. But the Drake series gunships were very fast and maneuverable, rising up above the effective range of the GEVs and starting to respond with their rapid-fire plasma cannons. The resultant explosions threw up a lot of dust and debris, and as a few plasma bolts tore through Sword Seven’s hull, puncturing its reactor and causing it to explode, black, putrid smoke as well.

“Sword Seven is November-Fox, I repeat, Sword Seven is November-Fox!” said Turner, cursing himself as he increased the speed of his ground-effect thrusters. “Goddamnit, where the hell is our air support?!”

Sword Nine and Sword Eleven were hit as well, the two blowers spinning out of control before impacting harshly with the ground as their lift engines gave out, shattering the nimble machines and their crew before they even knew what happened to them. Seconds later, the sound of an explosion rang in Turner’s ears as one of the gunships exploded in mid-air as multiple missiles impacted with its hull.

“Thought you boys could use some help!”

The roar of powerful turbofan engines was heard as two SF-26 fighter-interceptors entered the combat area, their ventral bays opening up and ripple-firing their high-maneuverability micro-missiles at the two remaining gunships, reducing them to scrap in short order.

“Looks like they know we’re coming!” said Sergeant Turner, red blips starting to appear on his radar screen. Elements of the enemy formation they were flanking were starting to break off to try and engage them.

“Heads up boys! Let’s light ‘em up!”

Turner applied the break on his combat hovercraft, turning right and then left again, blowing up a tremendous line of debris with the powerful turbofan engines that made enemy targeting that much harder. Both 75mm gun turrets rose up from the dorsal front section and began firing in rapid bursts, sending plasma bolts blazing into the approaching enemy. Two enemy cavalry units exploded outright from his shots while salvos from the rest of his squadron eliminated eight others. The interceptors providing air cover strafed the enemy from above, sending the entire enemy force into a state of confusion as they scrambled to get anti-air units into the fray. Turner took this opportunity to drive his command lance forward to divide the enemy forces in two, eliminating enemy units along the way.

“We got ‘em on the run!” said Corporal Thayer, swinging her point-defense turret across the remains of a disabled enemy unit to kill off the escaping crew, cutting the reptilian bodies of the enemy in two with 15mm rounds.

“This is TacComm, general retreat! I repeat, this is a general retreat, all forces pull back now!”

“What the hell?! My sensor shows enemy lines are being broken on all fronts!” snapped Turner, putting another plasma blast through an IFV.

“Good god…..there’s a damn nuke en route! Impact in 90 seconds! Let’s haul ass!” said one of the fighter pilots, flying back towards friendly lines. Turner clenched his teeth, ordering his forces to turn tail and run lest they want to be immolated by a nuclear warhead.

As the GEV squadron sped away from battle, an intense white flash blacked out all of their sensors for a split second before a mushroom cloud rising where the bulk of the enemy formation once was rose towards the heavens.

“Gods…..are they out of their damn minds?!”

I like very much

I like the attention to detail, though there's a few criticisms:

1. It can be a little confusing on the first read, a direct result of the amount of detail. (incredibly detailing/descriptive prose has a tendency to confuse first-time readers...)

2. It's not the most original work... not yet, at least.

Thanks for the feedback.

On the first comment, are you saying I should scale back the description or that it was just a little confusing?

Rakuseki wrote:On the first comment, are you saying I should scale back the description or that it was just a little confusing?

It's up to you really... extensive detail actually increases the re-readability a lot, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

CHAPTER TWO: THE FALLOUT

The Grand Assembly

“Vladimir Ruzhyó is a loose cannon and everyone here knows it!” snapped Senator Tyberius Seeger from Antares in the middle of the Confederate Grand Assembly Hall. “He has received more official reprimands in his career than any officer in history and yet this is the man leading our military forces in the biggest military conflict ever. He is completely unfit for command and I demand that he be removed from his position immediately!”

Senator Seeger was a known leader of the opposition party in the Grand Assembly. He and those who sided with him politically had made it clear that they were against Confederate military forces being committed to war without direct provocation from the Jaaq’tah Alliance and were even against the Confederation joining the Draconian League. They had gotten a bit of momentum going in the last elections as they cut the deficit to the ruling party almost in half. Now only about a dozen seats from power, Seeger’s party wanted to make drastic changes in the nature of Confederate involvement with alien powers. They had a genuine distrust and dislike for the entire military and openly proposed cutting the NDI’s budget by over a third to finance construction programs on planets on the frontier.

Prime Minister Alexander Edwards listened to the senator’s stinging comments but kept his cool. He was considered by many to be in the pocket of the NDI commander-in-chief, but Edwards was a former military man himself who believed in Blackblade’s doctrine of peace through overwhelming strength. As Senator Seeger ceded the floor, it was Edwards’ time to respond.

“Despite Admiral Ruzhyó’s misconduct record, I assure you that he is by far one of the greatest military commanders at our disposal. You cannot deny the results he has produced on the field of battle and while many of us are shocked by his decision to deploy weapons of mass destruction, we are dealing with an enemy that will not hesitate to do even worse to us. Far better to take the war than to have the enemy take the war to us!”
This caused uproar among the opposition party members, who shouted various jeers towards the Prime Minister, trying to rattle him.

“What next? The destruction of entire worlds?! Mass genocide?”

“They’re our enemies! They’re willing to do the very same to us!”

The exchange continued for several minutes before the parliamentarian made a call to order. But the points on both sides had been firmly made.


Guardias

“Hyperspace signature detected,” said the N.S.S. Longbolt’s, a Tatsumaki-class guided missile frigate, monotonal combat computer. A few seconds later, the signature was identified as belonging to a hostile power – the Jaaq’tah Alliance. The guided missile frigate’s klaxons immediately sounded and all hands were ordered to their battle stations.

The tactical battle network immediately propagated the escort’s data to the rest of its attached battle group and continually propagated throughout the task force command vessel.

Captain Kyoji Nishinaka turned to his tactical action officer. “What are we dealing with here?”

“70 enemy vessels—including eight Anaconda heavy cruisers—this looks like a pretty heavy attack force,” replied the Longbolt’s tactical action officer.

“Power up the main guns and load forward torpedo tubes,” ordered Captain Nishinaka, his eyes tracking the accelerating enemy battle group.

The twenty-four vessels in his battle group began to accelerate at a near equal rate as their battle systems synchronized with one another.

“Fire!”

Two hundred forty-seven Starhammer anti-warship missiles lanced from the rail-launcher tubes of the Confederate battle group, accelerating from zero to roughly .98c in less than thirty-seconds. The Jaaq’tah ships lit up as point defense fire rose up from the collection of destroyers and cruisers to meet the enemy missiles. Ninety missiles were defeated by the PD fire but the remainder hit home, their directed-energy warheads depositing over sixty gigatons of destructive power into the enemy vessels. This first volley wiped out twenty-six enemy vessels.

“Alright, hit ‘em where it hurts, fire at will, I repeat, fire at will!” rang over the battle group communications network from the lead Kirishima cruiser.
The Jaaq’tah battle group answered back as their particle beam weapons tore through space. The results weren’t the same as the NDI onslaught because shields weren’t nearly as effective against high-velocity ballistic weaponry such as missiles. But beam weapons, despite their higher-output, took several volleys to break down deflector shields. The
Longbolt shook with each successive impact but the shields held and the nimble frigate answered back, its main plasma batteries unleashing two highly-potent bolts that sliced through an enemy destroyer’s shields and vaporized its port-side armor. A follow up strike sent a series of explosions rippling down the side of the vessel’s hull. The enemy destroyer lost power and drifted helplessly in space.

“Missile launchers are reloaded, sir!”

“Fire!”

A second volley of missiles was unleashed at much closer range, which gave the Jaaq’tah a short window of opportunity to shoot them down before impact. The effects were horrendous as almost fifty enemy vessels were severely damaged or outright destroyed by the missile barrage. NDI vessels now moved in for the kill, launching their compliment of starfighters into the fray while trading shots with the heavier Jaaq’tah vessels that had enough point-defense capability and armor to defend themselves from the incredibly effective missile attacks of the NDI.
The battle raged on for another thirty minutes, but by the time the NDI ships had expended their supply of missiles, it was clear that the battle belonged to them. SF-25 and SF-26 starfighters armed with anti-ship missiles delivered precision payloads to the heavier Jaaq’tah vessels, knocking out weapon placements and engine subsystems while the larger vessels unloaded a destructive wave of firepower from their energy wave projection cannons and heavy plasma cannons, eventually reducing a rather sizable Jaaq’tah force to scrap in less than an hour.

But losses had been proportionally heavy. Ten ships had been lost or severely damaged in this battle. While there was a 7 to 1 ratio of losses, the Jaaq’tah easily held the numerical advantage. And these attacks would continue until the Fifth Fleet was effectively weakened by the quick, probing attacks the Jaaq’tah were launching from outside the Guardias system.



N.S.S. St. Petersburg [Kirishima Command Cruiser]
Guardias – Allied Command Center

“The Jaaq’tah forces have retaliated with nuclear strikes against two of our forward armor elements belonging to the 9th Genyosha. It was a massive strike, but our theater defenses were able to eliminate almost all of the inbound warheads,” reported Major Mark Lathram. “But…”

“But?” asked Admiral Ruzhyó, surprisingly sober at this time of day. The middle-aged Russian had his eyes focused on the strategic progress screen that highlighted the various continents of the planet below, outlining in blue territories his forces had taken and outlining those that remained with the enemy in red.

“Casualties are roughly twenty percent, sir. Given their numerical advantage, it is a pretty successful strike for them.”

“So our ability to advance is hindered?”

“Negative. We should be in control of over two-thirds of this planet in the next 36 hours. We’re wiping out their underground installations with sustained bombardment and precision-strikes from our strike craft.”
Ruzhyó nodded, turning to his second-in-command, Commodore Sergei Nurimov, a long-time friend and comrade in arms. “What about Jaaq’tah naval reinforcements?”

“They’re trying to wear us down in a prolonged battle of attrition,” said Nurimov, touching his control panel and replacing the strategic progress screen with a map of the Guardias star system. “Their launching their attacks from this asteroid belt between Guardias IV and V, but thus far we’ve repelled every strike they’ve launched against us, but I feel they’re going to launch a massive counterstrike and try and land reinforcements on Guardias IV.”

Ruzhyó snorted. “Let them advance a little and lure them into a false sense of security. I want to crush their entire force at once.”

“Are you sure, comrade-Admiral?” asked Nurimov.

“Yes. Let it be done.”


Red Star Citadel – Crius Prime
Fleet Battlestation Shiro

“This is Jackal-19, preparing for launch, requesting clearance from tower, over,” said Warrant Officer Tabitha Monroe, commander of the interstellar transport Ice Queen.

“We read you Jackal-19, you are cleared for departure. Your escorts will be the Typhoon and Firestar. Godspeed.”

“Alright, we are clear for launch. Strap in, turn off any and all electronic devices, and get ready we are go.”

The magnetic locks that tethered the Ice Queen released the vessel from the massive fleet Battlestation. Once the vessel was clear of the battlestation, its ion drives came online, allowing the vessel to surge forward at a decent rate of acceleration. Inertial dampeners inside of the vessel lessened the load of the sudden acceleration on the ship’s inhabitants.

Commander Alicia Clark looked out the starboard window as one of the NDI Spacy’s sleek Kyushu destroyers, the Firestar, came alongside the transport to serve as one of its escorts to the Guardias system.

“Only two destroyers? We must be low-priority,” said Lieutenant Arete Nyte, looking over to the only other female in close proximity.

“Apparently,” said Alicia, shifting to a more comfortable position in her seat. “Either that or we don’t want to attract too much attention to Jaaq’tah raider squadrons. Moving with a battle group probably isn’t the wisest idea.”

Arete shrugged, reclining in her seat and closing her eyes. “Whatever works.”

Meanwhile, Ashton, Proto, and Xero were playing a spirited game of dominoes. A loud smack reverberated throughout the passenger compartment as Xero slammed one of the ivory pieces down onto the playing table.

“THAT’S FIFTEEN!” exclaimed Xero, chortling madly. “You know what to do, baby bro.”

Proto frowned, marking Xero’s points on a sheet of paper. Ashton looked at the table for a minute, politely sliding out his own piece. “Twenty.”

Xero gave Ashton a blank expression. “You ain’t right, man.”

Ashton had a cocky smirk on his face. He wasn’t a man of many words but he knew how to get under the skin of a hot shot like Xero. Let Xero do all the talking while he walked away with the money.

The door opened up and a short, stocky man wearing a Special Forces uniform stepped into the room, auburn-colored eyes scanning the room.

“You people certainly look focused,” said Lieutenant Commander Keith “Wolf” Hanson, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“Lookie here, its good ole Wolf! Long time no s—“said Xero before being interrupted.

“Spare me the shit, Hokusha,” said Wolf, glaring at the younger man.

“Don’t try and act all buddy-buddy with me – you almost got me killed on Vox.”

“You still mad about that shit? I told you, man. I’ve got this. When you rollin’ with Xero, you gotta roll fast or not at all. Not my fault you can’t keep up, old man,” retorted Xero, slumping in his seat.

Wolf clenched his right fist but caught a piercing stare from Clark who was observing the situation from afar. Wolf was a maverick who tended to play by his own rules, but he knew not to cross Commander Clark. It just wasn’t intelligent.

“We’ll settle this later, Hokusha,” said Wolf, walking away from the group of Orion Team regulars and taking a seat.

“Whatever, man,” said Xero nonchalantly.


Beneath the surface of Guardias IV

“Has my transport off this world been secured?” growled Prince Saida’k, in the relative safety of the subterranean base where he and an elite cadre of the Jaaq’tah Imperial Guard were operating out of and directing the ground battle against the Human infidels.

“Not as of yet, majesty,” said Saida’k’s chief advisor. “The Humans retain naval superiority and even if we managed to get a shuttle off the planet, we would surely get shot down before we could escape into hyperspace.”
Saida’k bared his teeth. “Why hasn’t the Crimson Fleet crushed these weaklings?”

“Apparently the Humans fight with much more fervor than the Hushain or Altarans,” replied the advisor.

“Understood. We may have no choice but to fight our way off this world. I am going to rest in my chamber. I am not to be disturbed unless the situation is dire.”

“Yes, majesty.”

Saida’k turned away and slithered away into his chamber, which sealed itself off with a reinforced metal door. As the dragon-like creature began to drift away into sleep, only one thought rang through his mind:

“I cannot die on this world at the hands of these Humans.”

I've finally found the right word to describe this fic: Retro-pulp.

The hotshot military commanders, some elements of the prose, evil lizard-men from space... it reminds me of 1930s pulp sci-fi. (in the good way, not the bad way)

However, it's also too deep to be truly pulpish. I could best describe it in pulpishness as hovering somewhere (along with "Dune") between true pulp and not-really-pulp.

CHAPTER THREE: SMOKE & MIRRORS

The Battle of the Iron Valley – Guardias IV

The pace of the battle on Guardias IV had sped up dramatically as Confederate armored units swept across the plains of the southern continent of the planet. Nuclear strikes had been traded back and forth, but the ease with which Confederate air power and naval superiority had overwhelmed the entrenched positions of the Jaaq’tah defense forces were absolutely stunning.

But the war had taken another turn as elements of the 9th Genyosha Armored Legion reached a 120-mile stretch known as the Iron Valley. Jaaq’tah forces were heavily entrenched and fortified from any serious orbital bombardment and massive underground caverns would effectively nullify the armored assault of the NDI. As the 9th set up shop just outside of the Iron Valley, Jaaq’tah air forces mounted a pre-emptive strike with their Cobra attack craft.

Airborne radar stations detected the Jaaq’tah air assault well before they were in striking range, but the aerospace fighter assets available to the 9th were minimal. The 677th Aerospace Wing answered the call but were outnumbered nearly 3 to 1.

“This is Wildcat-Lead, I’ve got over one hundred inbound contacts bearing in NOE coming over the horizon, permission to engage?” asked Captain Horatio Lewis, piloting the SF-25C “Dark Angel” aerospace superiority fighter in formation with sixty-four members of the Wildcat Wing of the 677th. The Hellcat Wing consisted primarily of SF-26D “Starblade” interceptors, which were moving to flank the enemy air formation with their long range missiles.

“This is Eagle Eye, you are cleared to engage. Fire at will. I repeat, fire at will,” replied the commander of the AWACS craft.

“You heard ‘em, boys,” said Captain Lewis, kicking in his afterburners and closing distance along with the rest of his wing. The enemy didn’t know what was happening until the Wildcats were directly on top of them, medium-range missiles streaking towards their targets. The Cobra attack craft were incredibly agile, however, scattering into evasive maneuvers and launching ECM jammer pods to confuse the missiles launched their way. They quickly reformed in combat formation, entering into a dangerous melee with the veteran pilots of the 677th.

“Wildcat-Seven, on your six!” snapped Lewis, banking to the right swiftly and loosing four Shito micro-missiles into the fray. The feral acquisition targeting systems actively pursued the target like a rabid animal, active sensors pinging away wildly and quickly closing the gap. Six seconds later, the first missile impacted with the starboard engine; the second smashed directly into the fuselage. The remaining two zipped past the destroyed attack craft as it exploded in a brilliant fireball, automatically homing in on another fighter.

“That’s another Charlie-Kilo for Wildcat-Lead,” said Eagle Eye, watching the battle from afar. “Squadron leaders, IFF check.”

Squadron leaders called in, reporting losses, which were up to twenty-seven compared to thirty-eight enemy craft.

“Alright boys, let’s tighten this up here!” snapped Lewis, dismayed at the losses his wing was taking.

The sky was on fire as multiple explosions dotted the sky and pulse cannons released terawatt levels of energy into the fray. The Hellcat Wing quickly made its presence known as Starscream missiles smashed thirty Cobra attack craft.

Eagle Eye suddenly screamed over the TACnet. “What the hell? 9th Genyosha Command is reporting a massive air raid on their forces!”

“No way, we’re fighting them now!” snapped Lewis over the com.

“This was a diversion!”



The Jaaq’tah Cobra fast attack craft was a superb strike craft—some would even say better than the attack craft the NDI had fielded into battle. It used a unique anti-grav repulsion system to remain aloft at NOE altitudes, all the while performing exceptionally tight combat maneuvers.

While the 677th was engaging one formation of Jaaq’tah strike craft, a second wave had come in NOE from a completely different direction. By the time the AWACS craft orbiting the battle zone figured out what was going on, both tactical wings of the 677th were being engaged, leaving the 9th Genyosha to rely on the limited aerospace fighter assets and air defenses they had set up, but with the sheer numbers of enemy craft screaming down from above, it wouldn’t be enough.

The Jaaq’tah attack force moved swiftly, initially targeting stationary and mobile radar stations to blind the more effective Talon surface-to-air missile batteries. They then began systematically destroying the missile batteries and mobile air defense vehicles. It was only then did they begin focusing their attacks on the tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, and other materiel.

Meanwhile, as the Jaaq’tah air forces were wreaking havoc, Eagle Eye began redirecting his fighter assets back to the 9th Genyosha formation, which had been severely weakened from their previous battle. To make things worse, they would have to get down and dirty with the enemy fighters attacking the armored legion because they had expended their load of missiles. They now had to rely on their pulse cannons to get the job done.

Fifteen minutes after the Jaaq’tah air raid began, members of the Hellcat and Wildcat wings made their presence known, tearing into the Cobras with incredible ferocity. The 9th Genyosha took this opportunity to fall back while the 677th took up the slack.
But this was only the beginning.




Field Marshal Udak watched the elite air corps of his regiment mount a devastating attack on the Human armored formation while their own air forces were off fighting his diversionary force. If he could smile, he would, but he simply bared his razor-sharp teeth, raising his right hand and pointing forward.

His command track lurched forward along with an armored force he had kept in hiding since the dastardly humans began their orbital strikes against military bases across the globe. Hidden deep underground, the Iron Legion was at full operational capacity, with some 2,000 fighting vehicles and over 230,000 elite Jaaq’tah legionnaires ready to stain the iron ground of this valley with foul-smelling Human blood.



Guardias Theatre Command

“It’s like they’re pulling forces out of nowhere!” said General Kendrick Franklin, looking at the theater of operations map. “We bombarded every fortified military facility on this planet. There is no way a force of this strength should be left on the planet.”

“Apparently we missed a spot,” said Ruzhyó, glaring as the red triangles advanced towards the blue ones on the screen unimpeded.

“The 9th is battle-weary—we’re in danger of losing the whole unit if we don’t pull them out of there,” said General Franklin in a disgusted tone.

“No,” said Ruzhyó.

“What? Didn’t you hear me? They’re outnumbered, morale is low, and they’re severely shell-shocked by that air strike. They can’t win this battle, Ruzhyó,” retorted Franklin.

“They have no choice. Whether it’s now or later, they’ll have to stand and fight. We’ll support them with whatever they need. I’m giving you the air elements of two of my carriers to supplement and relieve the 677th. Now enough excuses and destroy the enemy – now.”



The Iron Valley

“What do you mean our orders are to stand and fight?” said Major Erin Stone of the 506th “Wild Grizzly” Armored Battalion, looking at the advancing armored column just twenty miles away on the tactical map. “We need to retreat and regroup!”

“You heard me, Major,” said the Colonel at the regimental command center. “Your unit along with the Steel Fox regiment is going to serve as the hammer while three other regiments serve as the anvil. If you move quickly enough, you’ll be right on the enemy’s flank. Godspeed, Major.”

“Yes, sir,” said Major Stone, terminating the transmission. She transmitted the battle plan to the other 90 vehicles in her battalion, which lit up green on her tactical screen as they acknowledged the orders. “Alright, let’s move out!”

The loud droning sound of the repulsorlift drives of the 90 some odd hover-tanks were almost deafening as the armored battalion accelerated. SF-27 strike fighters streaked past them at supersonic velocities, beginning what would surely be the first of several hundred sorties for this battle alone.

Time went by at a breakneck pace as flashes in the background suddenly got brighter with each passing moment. Drones leapt from the ‘hangars’ on the backs of the hovercraft, spreading out the sensor presence of the battalion significantly as they broke into combat formation, plasma cannons rising from their REDET turrets and beginning to elevate or lower as their sensor drones fed them targeting data.

A sudden adrenaline rush hit Major Stone and everything went silent as time suddenly dilated and her senses went into overdrive mode. She had a viable targeting solution and pulled the trigger.

She cooked off twelve plasma bolts over a period of one and a half seconds and time suddenly came rushing back to its normal speeds. The bright flash of the plasma bolts immolating the Jaaq’tah armored vehicle was dimmed by the suit optics, but the shockwave was represented and enhanced in all modes, beautiful to the eyes.

“Fire at will, fire at will!” snapped Stone without even thinking about it, selecting another target and letting loose. The enemy had begun to return fire, inflicting casualties of their own among the 506th.

Just as the Jaaq’tah tank forces began to bring their full weight against Stone’s battalion, a massive air and artillery strike blasted a massive hole in the enemy formation as enough destructive power as to be compared to a low-level nuclear weapon was unleashed over a series of two minutes. In the superheated gases, the 55th armored regiment along with the 104th lift infantry regiment raced forward with impeccable speed to exploit the temporary weakness in the enemy formation.

“You looked like you could use some help!”

The voice of Lt. Colonel Hiro Nishimoto rang over the com as a blue-black SF-27 fighter flew past in formation with three others.

“I guess you jocks are good for something!” replied Stone with a gracious tone, directing the third company forward to replace the second, which had lost over half its strength in its last exchange. “Maybe we can win this battle after all!”



Interstellar Transport Ice Queen

The transition from hyperspace to real space was somewhat disorienting, though it really depended on the duration. The time needed to travel between Crius and Guardias was hardly twelve hours, which produced an effect similar to jet lag in most people.

As the Ice Queen resynced with the Confederate tactical network, multiple IFF queries were made and quickly answered as the two Kyushu destroyers that had accompanied the transport emerged from hyperspace alongside the transport.

“Welcome to Guardias, Commander Clark. We’ve been expecting you for quite some time,” said the voice of Sergei Nurimov, second-in-command of the Fifth NDI Spacy Fleet.

Commander Alicia Clark and the rest of the Orion Team stood in the deployment hangar on the lower fore section of the transport donned in their advanced power armors. There was no verbal acknowledgement, simply an iconic ‘HUA!’ symbol that returned to Nurimov via the battle net.

It was go time.

Seems like a bit of an improvement from previous chapters - there's little character development, but the battle itself is very fluidly written. (if you understand what I mean)

However, if I have a criticism it must be that it seems a bit silly that you pay so much attention to what types of military hardare is being used. (eg. you don't have to write that it's medium-range rockets that's being fired...)

CHAPTER FOUR: IN TIMES OF WAR…


Red Star Citadel – Confederation Strategic Command [CONSTRACOM]


Cameron Blackblade walked out of the ultra-secretive CONSTRACOM briefing room with even less useful information than when he walked in. That was the problem with high level military bureaucrats—they were more concerned with saving their own asses by passing the blame to someone else than actually telling him what needed to be done. He already knew that the Jaaq’tah were fighting back in Guardias and Mu Delphi—he wanted to know how to win, not why so-and-so’s strategy had failed.

If it were up to him, he’d fire the whole CONSTRACOM and run this show himself.

But that was never really proper; the politics simply demanded that the commander-in-chief have a crew of self-serving yes-men advising him on matters of military policy. To have it any other way would bring charges of Blackblade being some kind of maniacal leader of a military junta. He would then become in the eyes of many an enemy to freedom as opposed to the principal defender of it.

So despite the necessity of dealing with all of this nonsense, Cameron Blackblade was angered by the fact that the purity of his war was being tainted by all this needless political wrangling. If his generals needed to turn a world into a radiated wasteland in order to attain victory, then so be it!

But it never worked that way, it seemed. The goddamned press always had to poke their nose into something, asking questions, casting a shadow of doubt all for the sake of some stupid story to run on the evening news.

“You seem to be brooding about something, Cameron,” said a dark-haired officer standing at the end of the hall along Cameron’s path.

Cameron’s train of thought was temporarily as he looked up. “Hello, Nathan,” he replied in his standard monotone.

Nathan Rakuseki was the Deputy Commander of the Nerimian Defense Initiative and the principal mind behind Operation: Holy Crusade. What most people didn’t know was that the calm and reserved Rakuseki was Cameron’s older brother and second-in-line for the CINC-NDI position.

“How goes the war effort?” asked Rakuseki with a smile, starting to walk alongside his younger sibling.

“It’d be going just fine if the press would keep their mouths shut and report what we tell them to,” replied Cameron.

“Spoken like a true fascist,” joked Nathan.

“Don’t start that with me, Nathan.”

“Don’t let it get to you. What more could go wrong?”






The Battle of the Iron Valley – Guardias IV

The GEV-17 “Foxhound” infantry fighting vehicle sped through the hostile battle zone, twin AP turrets swiveling from side to side laying down a wall of metal to keep any hostile infantry units at bay.

“This is Steve Sedgewick reporting for Hikari Broadcast Networks. We are in the middle of what is perhaps the biggest battle I have ever seen in my entire life. I’m with the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force and thus far losses have been heavy on both sid—“

Sedgewick’s statement was interrupted as a powerful explosion rattled the cameraman and the shockwave knocked him over on his side. It took several seconds for Sedgewick to recompose himself.

“As you can see, this battle is very real. This is no cakewalk. The enemy is a savage enemy that will use any tactics to attain victory,” continued Sedgewick, lowering his profile to avoid any stray shots.

“Would you cut that camera off? It’s causing an EMS spike that’ll draw fire directly to us!” yelled a marine manning the 10mm topside turret.

It was too late. The IFVs PDS turrets were firing wildly to try and intercept a hypersonic missile that was flying NOE in a wild snake-like pattern before rising up and exploding violently, shrapnel shredding the marine, the reporter, and the cameraman while the shockwave literally flipped the armored vehicle on its side.

The camera, designed specifically to survive most battlefield conditions, was still transmitting images and sound.


Elsewhere...

“Mission accepted,” said Shawn Ravencroft in a low tone, looking down the steel-like mountain with a pair of high-powered binoculars. With the naked eye, the mountains surrounding the Iron Valley were literally smooth, carved out of iron ferrite by intense wind erosion and rain over millions of years. But with a closer look, one could see that these were actually massive defensive structures made by the Jaaq’tah, as evidenced by the doors built into the face of the mountain to deploy infantry, aircraft, and armored units.

No one knew just how many forces the Jaaq’tah had stored away in this mountain, but it could be hundreds of thousands of loyal legionnaires that could take months to dig out of their entrenched positions.

Ravencroft pulled the binoculars from his eyes and clipped them back to his belt and hoisted the CBR-11 6mm caseless repeater and cleared his throat.

“I better get a bonus for this…”


The Red Star Citadel

Audiences across Confederation space were treated to live video footage from one of the war’s more contested battles. Normally embedded reporters were placed with rear echelon units that rarely see any kind of action, but Steve Sedgewick and his camera crew were brought along with a front echelon force that led the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force’s assault against the Jaaq’tah. The end result was a lost fighting vehicle, several marines, and more importantly, the deaths of two embedded reporters—all witnessed by billions in one simultaneous instant.

There was a major uproar as political pundits began to put their own spin on the events. Those opposed to launching an offensive against the Jaaq’tah began immediately using this a major reason as to why the war was a disaster and too many soldiers were giving their lives for a war that couldn’t be won.

Cameron Blackblade watched the events unfold from his office, joined by his second-in-command and brother.

“What else could go wrong, eh?”

“What can I say? Murphy’s Law is a bitch.”


Guardias IV

“Preparing for entry into the planet’s atmosphere, fasten your seatbelts ladies and gentlemen, it might get a little bumpy,” said the warrant officer in command of the Ballisk assault shuttle.

The shuttle was reasonably large, just slightly larger than a 727 jetliner from the 20th century. It was the principal small transport for the NDI’s military forces, capable of carrying VIPs from place to place in reasonable luxury or bringing a small detachment of marines into a hostile fire zone and getting them out safely. This time around, it was transporting the six-member black ops squad known simply as the Orion Team.

“Need a barf bag, Wolf?” said Xero, glancing over to Wolf, who obviously preferred to have his feet on solid ground.

“Shut the fuck up,” said Wolf in an angry tone, looking somewhat nauseous as the shuttle began its entry into Guardias IV’s turbulent atmosphere.

The shuttle rattled violently as they entered the upper most portion of the atmosphere, the heat tiles on the bottom of the craft literally starting to glow as they descended down into the atmosphere at speeds exceeding twenty-five times the speed of sound. A minute and a half later, they hit the upper stratosphere of the planet, where two SF-25 aerospace fighters came upon their flank as the shuttle evened out its trajectory. Technically they were over friendly territory, but Confederate Aerospace Command couldn’t be sure that there weren’t some Jaaq’tah forces hiding underground with surface-to-air missiles or even a stray aerospace fighter unit.

“Welcome to Guardias IV, ladies and gents,” said the fighter element commander. “I’m sure the Jaaq’tah will give you a real happy welcome.”

“They’ll just love what we brought to the party,” said Alicia in response.



Crius Prime - HBN Studio D

Tyberius Seeger maintained a disgruntled visage as the cameras started rolling on HBN’s most popular political debate program, Hard Time with Reno Fugisawa, his hands clasped together as the cheesy opening music came to an end and Reno addressed the audience at home.

“This is Reno Fugisawa and this is Hard Time,” said Reno in his studio announcer voice, flashing a picture perfect smile before speaking again. “Today we have Senate Minority Leader Tyberius Seeger here to discuss the events with the war against the Jaaq’tah Alliance. Senator?”

Seeger took his cue. “It’s a pleasure to be here, Mr. Fugisawa.”

“As the NDI’s casualties increase in the invasion of Guardias IV, more and more opposition has begun to creep up in the general population. Now if I’m correct, your party has repeatedly spoken out about the fallacy of launching an all-out invasion against the Jaaq’tah.”

“Yes and the 35,000 casualties we’ve taken in just 36 hours are evidence of this. How many of our boys have to die before the Edwards administration realizes that getting ourselves entangled in some alien war is not the right thing to be doing?” replied Seeger, taking a sip of water before continuing.

“Then you have this loose cannon commander, Vladimir Ruzhyó, using weapons of mass destruction on a habitable world and men like Cameron Blackblade are giving him free reign to do whatever he damn well pleases. How in a civilized society can we have the military running roughshod over everything we have come to build as civilized peoples?”

Reno interjected at this point. “Understandable, but the argument put forth by the administration and the CONSTRACOM is that if we didn’t confront the Jaaq’tah now then we would have to deal with them within the constraints of our own border.”

“We wouldn’t have to be dealing with the Jaaq’tah at all if we didn’t join this Draconian League Alliance. We were doing just fine within our own devices, we don’t need the input of some alien organization. When we started getting involved with other people’s internal affairs, this is what happens and now we have 35,000 dead men and women on some alien world for what reason? For a threat that was created by the administration’s interventionist policies and a warmongering commander-in-chief who looks for any excuse to use whatever new weapons system he demands that the Senate fund. I’m here to say that it’s time for an end to this destructive policy. It’s time to remove ourselves from other people’s business and focus on what needs to be done in this great nation of ours.”

Reno got the 10 second cue from his producer and turned towards the camera as it came back to him. “Some fiery comments from the Senator, we’ll be right back after this commercial break.”


The Eridani Citadel

Alexander Edwards shut off the holographic screen showing his primary legislative nemesis, Tyberius Seeger. “How can people buy into this bullshit?”

Edwards’ chief of staff, Steven Green, shrugged. “There’s a segment of the population that has pacifist and isolationalist tendencies and Seeger appeals to that. When troops start coming home in body bags, that plays on people’s emotions and you know it’s hard to make a sound decision when emotional.”

Edwards cursed underneath his breath. “So how do we respond?”

“We do a photo-op with troops returning home from Vox and go to the funerals of some low-key soldiers who died. We show that we genuinely give a damn about those who died and we reassert that they are dying for a noble reason. We reaffirm the threat of the Jaaq’tah Alliance and the necessity of joining the Draconian Alliance. Throughout it all, we don’t mention Seeger’s comments at all,” replied Green.

“Fine, set it all up. I just want to send a big ‘fuck you’ to Seeger,” said Edwards, somewhat miffed by Seeger’s comments. In times of war, there was always some opportunist that had to come along and fuck things up for everybody.

CHAPTER FIVE: BACKGROUND RADIATION


While Earth was the homeworld of Humanity, Crius had eclipsed Earth as the center of Human civilization in the aftermath of Earth’s attempt to break away from the Nerimian Galactic Confederation several years before. When Nerima City was captured by rebels, the new capital was moved to Keystone City on Crius and has remained there ever since.
Crius was very Earth-like in its attributes and by comparison was a virtual paradise simply by the virtue that it had been largely untouched by Humans and large levels of pollution. New ecological technologies and terraforming would ensure that Crius would remain the jewel of the Nerimian Confederation for years to come.

Supreme Commander Cameron Blackblade chose Crius as the home for the Phoenix Citadel Military Academy because of its prominence as the Confederation’s capital world. A secondary reason for selecting the planet was that it was saturated in a unique energy source known to military scientists as ‘psi.’ Psi had peculiar effects upon all biological creatures that come in contact with it. With Humans, psi had a powerful effect of awakening the latent psionic potential inside every Human. As with all things, some Humans had more ability than others, and those who exhibited extraordinary capability were quickly quarantined by the military for further observation. The phenomenon known as ESP in the last century was now commonplace among Humans who had inhabited the Crius star system.

The first generations of children born on Crius were born with acute psionic abilities, ranging from clairvoyance to amazing feats of psychoportation. It was then that the Confederate Grand Assembly passed the Military Conscription Act in 2130, which mandated that all boys and girls 16 years or older had to undergo mandatory military training for possible enlistment into the ranks of the Nerimian Defense Initiative. The system was phased in gradually, but came into full swing in the year 2146 to take full advantage of the millions of teenagers with psionic abilities that would flood into the ranks of the military.

The NDI quickly came up with a way to grade the various levels of abilities possessed by its new recruits. Five grades, A through E, were given to recruits as they completed their training. A grades were given to those with superb psionic capabilities and represented less than two percent of the population. E grades represented recruits with no psionic abilities at all. A rapid reorganization of the military was a massive undertaking as A and B grades were shifted to the Special Forces Command, while C, D, and E grades were integrated with the population. A social division within the military began to take place as A and B grades (commonly referred to as Alphas and Betas) began to view themselves as inherently superior to all lower grades. While not encouraged by the military, integration between the ‘elites’ and normal Confederate soldiers became taboo. Social commentators began speaking of a new age of racism, not defined by skin color, but by psionic ability.

Nevertheless, it was a new age and there was little anyone could do to stop it.



Phoenix Citadel Military Academy – Crius Prime
May 4, 2153

Her opponent easily outweighed her by a good 120 pounds, not to mention he was at least a foot taller and undoubtedly stronger. It was no sweat for Ensign Alicia Clark.

The drill sergeant moved forward with surprising quickness, leading with a quick left followed by a follow-up right—

—she parried the first punch and stooped low as she rushed in with her left shoulder leading directly into his solar plexus, cutting off the right cross before the sergeant could put his weight behind it. She felt his lungs forcibly eject air and exacerbated the problem with a knee strike to his stomach, doubling the man over. She pulled away in a single agile movement, sweeping the man’s feet out from under him and watching him crash to the ground as if his legs simply disappeared.

The sergeant recovered quickly, hopping to his feet, but now he was hopping mad. Not only had he gotten dropped on his ass, but a little woman had been the one responsible.

“Bitch…” said the sergeant, lunging forward with a powerful kick aimed squarely at Alicia’s chest—

Alicia sidestepped and let the man’s momentum carry him past her. She was going to have fun with him, beckoning him forward with her right hand—

The sergeant turned around with a vicious spinning backhand that caught Alicia off guard with the quickness of it, who barely managed to evade it. The sergeant continued, going into a frenzy of punches and kicks that were simply unrelenting. Alicia blocked and dodged, rolling with the impacts of those that did strike. After nearly forty-five seconds of this, the sergeant was visibly fatigued. Now was the time to strike.

Alicia charged forward, ducking underneath a right hand and driving her left fist into the man’s ribs, following with a ferocious right cross to the man’s left jaw. Blood shot from the man’s mouth with the impact and it was then Alicia knew she had him. She did a short hop and spin, bringing her right leg around with tremendous velocity and impacting with the side of the sergeant’s head, sending him to the ground.

Alicia landed, looking down at the sergeant, who would be out cold for at least the next thirty minutes. She was breathing heavily, glancing over to Colonel Logan Jackson, who was in charge of the Special Forces Program at the Phoenix Citadel.

“Excellent job, Clark,” said Jackson, looking at his clipboard and then turning up to the black windows some thirty feet above, where senior military commanders were watching this exhibition of his recruits.





Supreme Commander Cameron Blackblade just happened to be watching on this day, watching how this little dark-haired woman just dominated three elite-level physical combat instructors like it was nothing. Cameron could sense it in her – she had the ‘spark.’ The fact that she was a woman was irrelevant to him. It was something he saw in her eyes during the heat of battle. It was the efficiency of her movements, the complete focus on the minute movements of her enemy and moving to exploit them.
He had to get to know this woman better. What better way to know someone than to fight them?

“Call that woman back up,” said Cameron. “I want to test her skills myself.”

“Excuse me, sir?” said Colonel Jackson over the com.

“I want to see just how good she is,” said Cameron, walking out of the door and descending the stairs. He was wearing the dress uniform of a Confederate military officer, but it didn’t matter. He was ready to fight anytime and anywhere—that was the mark of a true warrior.

“Clark! Front and center, you have a special visitor,” said Colonel Jackson, looking towards the door as it opened and Cameron emerged, sword and scabbard in hand as he approached with long strides.

Alicia’s eyes widened as the saw Cameron approach. This was the legend himself. She immediately snapped to attention. “Hello, Supreme Commander, sir!”

Cameron stopped next to Colonel Jackson, handing him his sword before removing his jacket and tossing it aimlessly to the side. “Ensign Clark,” he said whilst rolling up the sleeves to his shirt. “You are going to fight me. And I don’t want you to hold anything back. Is that understood?”

Clark was in awe. She was going to fight the Supreme Commander? “Y….Yes, sir.”

Cameron walked to within eight feet of Alicia, calmly bowing to her as a sign of a warrior’s respect before stepping back into his fighting stance. It was odd, Alicia noted, both of his hands crossed in front of his sternum and hands stiffened into knife-edges. She had heard that the Supreme Commander was an accomplished martial artist, but she had never had the pleasure of watching his skill first hand.

Alicia loosened up for a second, adopting her own stance and began sizing Cameron up. He was in many ways just like the man she just got done fighting, but she could tell simply by the way he walked that he was much more skillful.

“Fight!” said the Colonel.

Cameron surged forward like a train, so fast that Alicia could barely track it. Before she could react, she felt a stunning blow to her chest that sent her directly to the ground. By the time she regained true awareness of what was going on, Cameron towered over her.

“I should have never touched you. Get up,” said Cameron, backing off a few feet.

Alicia scrambled to her feet, circling around Cameron slowly. What the fuck did he just do? She saw him dash forward for a split-second and then she was on the ground. What kind of freak was he?

Cameron was on the move again, moving so fast that he was nothing but a blur to Alicia’s vision. She reflexively brought her right hand up to deflect a punch and suddenly Cameron became clear again, his wrist firmly in her right hand. She was surprised.

“Now we’re doing better. Stop trying to see me and just trust your instincts,” said Cameron, breaking her grip easily and backing up. “This time, you attack me.”

Alicia had no idea what Cameron was talking about but she obliged him, feinting with a left snap kick and then launching a right kick towards Cameron’s left hip—

Cameron seemed to completely anticipate her movements, his left palm impacting with her shin and pushing away while his right came across Alicia’s face with a knife-edge blow, sending her careening off to her right off-balance. Cameron followed it up, driving his left hand forward with a palm thrust, but the air rippled with energy and Alicia was sent flying backwards and into the wall.

Alicia cried out as she impacted with the wall, dropping to the ground and looking up to Cameron, who continued to hold his left hand forward. “You’re not focusing, Ensign. You’re letting me dominate you because you believe that I should be dominating you.”

Cameron turned away from Alicia and began to walk away. “Colonel,” he said in a calm voice. The Colonel threw the katana towards him and he caught it without even looking toward it or losing a step.

Alicia just watched as Cameron walked away, embarrassed by how easily the Supreme Commander had defeated her. She hadn’t known he had psionic powers as well, and his were far more advanced than hers.



Two Weeks Later…
Special Forces Program – Graduation Reception

Alicia Clark played the role of the proverbial wallflower as the rest of her graduating class danced, laughed, and generally had a good time at the graduation reception for those who had managed to complete the Special Forces Training Program. Several of the more attractive men had come over and asked her to dance, but she politely declined, preferring to be the fly on the wall.

After awhile, she simply found herself immersed in the situation. Not really paying attention to her surroundings until she felt a hand touch her right shoulder.

“What?” she said before looking over to see who it was. She gasped as she saw the Supreme Commander standing there in the white formal uniform.

“I noticed you were standing over here alone. The last dance is coming up and I was wondering if you’d do me the pleasure, Lieutenant,” said Cameron in a smooth voice. He certainly knew how to be charming when the time came.

“Yes, sir,” said Alicia, extending her right hand. Cameron took it and led her out on the dance floor, eyeballing the DJ who took that as his cue to play the final song of the night.

Alicia felt awkward dancing with a superior officer, let alone the highest ranking officer in the entire military, but she got over it. “I didn’t even know you were here, sir.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here,” replied Cameron. “I try to find my way to all these events. It’s only proper, especially since you’ll be working directly for me.”

Alicia nodded, looking around the room as they dance. She noticed the others pointing at her dancing with Cameron. Usually she didn’t like to attract attention, but it was the first time in a long time that she felt like the center of attention. Perhaps this feeling wasn’t so bad after all.

“Alicia,” said Cameron. “I’ve chosen you to be a member of a new unit I’ve created just recently.”

“….What kind of unit?” asked Alicia.

“A unit that will be my personal shotgun of sorts. When I need something done, it’ll be the unit I call upon. Only the most elite operatives have gotten this assignment,” replied Cameron.

“But, I’m just fresh out of the academy, sir. I’m not quail—“

Cameron put a finger over her lips and shook his head. “You have more potential than any of these grunts here and you know it. Now it’s time to start living up to, and eventually, beyond your inherent potential. Think of it as a trial by fire. Elite warriors become elite by fighting along side elite warriors.”

Alicia swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

The song ended and everyone began to head towards the exit as the DJ gave his final address over the mic. Cameron offered up a smile to Alisha before placing a black pin in her right hand, a miniature image of the Orion constellation. Alisha looked down at the pin and examined it. Before she could thank Cameron, he was gone and the other girls came over to her.

“Oh my god, how was it dancing with the Supreme Commander?” asked one.

“….Intimidating….” said Alicia.




“I tell ya, Blackblade’s off his rocker,” said Xero Hokusha, tapping a rapid combination of keys on the game controller in his hands. “I mean, I can understand guys like DeGaulle, he’s paid his dues, but he’s bringing in some newbie chick. Oh hell no. Y’know? I’m willing to bet money that old bastard is hitting it, too. Y’all know about Blackblade. Dunno what it is about that dude, but he got that kinda old man game that females gravitate to.”

Proto shook his head, reclining in his chair while watching Xero wander aimlessly through some third-person adventure game. “Why does everything in this world break down to a man and a woman having sex, Xero?”

“Because that’s the natural order of things. All male-female interactions break down to the sexual level when one gets down to it. I mean, even with gay guys, it’s like that. It’s sorta like “Hey, y’know….if I ever decide I wanna be a normal dude for a night, I hang with you so that I have easy access” y’know?” replied Xero.

“That is easily one of the most ignorant things I’ve heard in my life,” replied Ashton DeGaulle, sitting down next to Proto with a mug of coffee.
“Does everyone around here have to be a damned critic?” said Xero, turning towards Ashton with a smirk before looking back at the holographic screen. “I’m just saying, I don’t see why Blackblade is bringing some new chick in to mess with team unity. We work just fine together. Me, Proto, DeGaulle, and Arete got this shit on lock. We already got a chick in the group and she doesn’t even give me the time of day.”

“There you go, judging a female’s worth on her looks and her willingness to have sex with you,” retorted Arete Nyte, approaching from the rear.

“Well, I mean, what do you want me to base worth on? I mean, sure, you can beat most guys I know in a fist fight, but at the end of the day, you’re just another pretty face,” said Xero.

“God you’re such a chauvinist,” said Arete, rolling her eyes. She knew Xero didn’t mean a lot of the things he said in earnest; he simply liked to get under people’s skin.

Just then, the door opened and a relatively short light-skinned black woman walked into the room, dropping her duffel bag to the side and saluting. “Lieutenant Alicia Clark reporting for duty!”

The entire room stopped what they were doing and placed all attention on the newcomer.

Xero dropped his controller in complete disregard for his game and wandered over to Alicia, looking her up and down for a select few moments. “Didn’t know Blackblade liked dark meat,” joked Xero. Ashton and Proto laughed at that.

Alicia remained at attention. There was always a certain degree of hazing in any military unit, especially to newcomers.

Xero took notice of the gold and red pin on her lapel. “Oooh, a graduate of the Phoenix Citadel. We got top-notch military personnel, here folks. But you do know that there is a test before you’re accepted in my unit, right?”

Alicia looked Xero in the eye. Oh great, what was he gonna make her do. Probably something stupid.

“At ease,” said Xero, standing back and placing his hands on his hips. “Take your best shot.”

“What?” said Alicia, taking a normal stance.

Xero mocked her, speaking as if he was deaf.

“Take….your……best……shot.”

That made Alicia made. She didn’t care who he was, no one made fun of her like that.

“C’mon, I don’t have all da—“Xero’s sentence was cut off abruptly as Alicia kicked him squarely in the nuts. Xero dropped to his knees and eventually fell on his side. Proto and Ashton laughed at that as well.

“Better?” said Alicia with a smile, looking down at Xero before turning her attention to the others.

Ashton stepped forward first. “I’m Lieutenant Ashton DeGaulle, weapons specialist.” extending his right hand for a handshake. Alicia took his hand.

“Lieutenant Proto Hokusha, covert ops specialist.” Proto said, glancing down at his suffering brother. “And that’s my brother Xero, tactical specialist.”

Arete smiled at Alicia. “I like you already. Lieutenant Arete Night, communications specialist.”

Alicia frowned, looking over towards Xero. She was a tactical specialist as well, which probably meant she was in the running for commander of this unit. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Xero, by this time, was up on his feet, glaring at Alicia. “That was a goddamn cheap shot and you know it!”

“You told me to give you my best shot, so I did,” said Alicia sweetly.

Xero clenched his fist but thought better of it. “One of these days……”

“…You’ll learn not to let your guard down,” said Supreme Commander Cameron Blackblade as he walked into the room, taking a look of his newly assembled team. “Anyway, now that you’ve all met let’s get down to business.”

The team immediately snapped to attention and formed into a single-file line before Cameron.

“According to the SOCOM’s TO&E, you are the 23rd Special Operations Group; however, for all intents and purposes, you are the NDI’s most elite team of special operators, The Orion Team. You are outside of the normal chain of command and will report directly to me and only to me. Your missions are by de facto Triple A Classified. From this point on, your membership in this group is strictly confidential,” said Cameron forcefully.
“Make no mistake, you are the best the Confederation has to offer so do not disappoint me.”

Cameron paced up and down the line without saying a word. “As you have noticed, all of you have the rank of Lieutenant, which leaves a bit of gray area as to who is the unit commander. Well right now, I’m going to clear that up.”

Cameron stopped in front of Ashton, producing a silver-colored phoenix trimmed in black and pinning it on his right lapel. “You are now Lieutenant Commander DeGaulle.”

Cameron continued pacing up and down the line, looking each member of the unit in the eye. He saw the smug look on Xero’s face, who plainly expected to become commander of this unit. Cameron stopped in front of him, looked him up and down and then continued, finally stopping in front of Alicia, pinning a gold-colored phoenix trimmed in red on her right lapel.

“Meet your new unit commander, Commander Alicia Clark,” said Cameron with little or no emotion. “I trust you’ll treat her with every bit as much respect as you treat me. If I hear otherwise, then you’ll hear from me.”

Cameron then walked out of the room to virtual silence. Once he was gone, the shit hit the fan.

“I can’t believe what the fuck is going on here,” said Xero glaring at his new CO. “….Ok…I can deal with DeGaulle being the XO…..but this goddamn newbie?!”

“That’s Commander to you, Lieutenant,” said Alicia, glaring at Xero, putting special emphasis on the word ‘lieutenant.’

“Oh my god, this is so much bullshit!” snapped Xero, storming out of the room.

“Don’t worry, he throws these tantrums all the time,” said Arete, taking a seat. It didn’t matter to her who was commander. Orders were orders. It didn’t matter who they came from.

Proto and Ashton remained largely silent on the issue. They felt somewhat insulted that Blackblade would make the newbie commander, but what could they do? If she was really that bad, she’d end up getting booted anyway.




Xero punched the wall as hard as he could, the wall giving way slightly under the force of his punch. “This is bullshit, complete bullshit! What the hell is Blackblade on?”

Xero continued ranting for several minutes until he felt a strong presence behind him. Turning around, he was surprised to see the Supreme Commander himself.

“Before you can lead, you’ve got to learn how to follow,” said Cameron in a monotone voice.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I’ve been following my whole damn life!” retorted Xero angrily.

“And you think that makes you worthy of being the commander of this unit? Why? Seniority?”

Xero mumbled something underneath his breath before responding. “Yes, I’ve been here longer. I have more battlefield experience than that woman and you know it!”

“So you’re questioning my judgment, are you, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir, I am. It makes no sense at all.”

“Then maybe it’s not for you to understand. You can disagree with my appointment, but don’t you dare try to challenge it or my judgment. You want to talk about seniority, just remember who founded this organization. But you will suck it the fuck up and follow her orders to the very letter. If I get just one report about insubordination, you won’t like what I have to do next,” snapped Cameron, turning to walk away.

Xero was on fire with anger. How dare he?! He was the best! He needed him!

“Oh, and before you lie to yourself about me needing you, just remember that we can always build another one,” said Cameron, continuing on his way.




Guardias IV
January 12, 2159

Xero Hokusha felt a sudden adrenaline rush spurred on by his suit’s chemical injectors which periodically pumped him full of performance-enhancing drugs. He was used to these sudden rushes now and simply observed the tactical screen his goggles were projecting in front of his eyes. They were being sent into a hostile fire zone where intelligence had told them that the Jaaq’tah Prince was being protected by his royal guard.

“This is as about as far as we go. We don’t have air dominance over this area and their air defenses are still pretty strong despite being beat up over the past few days. Sorry boys, you’re solo from this point forward,” said the shuttle’s pilot.

“Alright, let’s get ready to move. I’ve designated two landing zones and two teams. Red Team will be commanded by Ashton. Proto and Arete, you’re with him. I’ll command Blue Team. Wolf, Xero, you’re with me,” said Alicia, hoisting her battle rifle and standing up.

Xero groaned, not liking the fact that he was being teamed with Wolf, a man who genuinely hated him.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hokusha,” said Alicia without even looking his way. She did, however, give a look towards Wolf. “Keep your temper under control and we won’t have any problems, Hansen.”

Wolf remained silent, slinging his plasma enveloper over his shoulder and grabbing a few extra grenades from the weapons rack.

The back of the shuttle opened up and the roar of the atmosphere seemed to drown out all other sound. “Alright, Red Team first. You’re up, DeGaulle!”

“Aye,” said Ashton, pointing towards Proto and Arete and inching towards the exit. “Let’s go!”

Proto took the plunge first, holding his appendages close to his body and cutting through the wind like a bullet. Arete followed him, and soon thereafter so did Ashton.

“Red Team has been inserted,” said the pilot. “Blue Team is up.”

Xero smirked at Alicia and Wolf and jumped from the shuttle with a running start. “Whoohoo!!!!!”

“That boy is never serious,” said Wolf, following after Xero, who was in turn followed by Alicia.

Xero’s scanners swept the skies around them as they went into freefall, finding nothing. “So much for ‘no complete’ air dominance. There’s not a damn thing in the sky!”

“Yeah, but that could change quickly, Xero. Just keep your eyes open,” said Alicia, turning on her armored suit’s engines, which began to slow her descent.

“Whoa, EMS spike!” said Wolf over the com, his head snapping to the right. “We’ve got incoming!”

Multiple EMS spikes registered on Blue Team’s sensors as six surface-to-air missiles rose from camouflaged batteries below, not tracking individual targets but moving to get into their general vicinity.

“Fuck, they must be using AP!” snapped Xero, engaging his boosters and speeding towards the ground below. “Head for the treetops…..they’ll have trouble tracking us at lower altitudes!”

The missiles changed direction with them, swinging wide right and moving to get back in range of their proximity fuses.

“Damnit, we aren’t gonna make it, BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!!” screamed Alicia before a flash washed out her vision and the explosion shockwave knocked her unconscious.

CHAPTER SIX: THE NIGHT OF A THOUSAND PHANTOMS

Guardias IV

“Commander, do you copy?!”

Commander Alicia Clark blinked herself into consciousness. Her ears rang and parts of her body were in tremendous pain. She couldn’t quite tell which end of her was up, but she hoped that she wasn’t a sitting duck right now.

She felt a pin prick near her right thigh, another in her upper back, a few more in her chest. Stimulants hit her system and suddenly everything began crisp. Cold air hit her nostrils from the vents in her face mask—a programmed shock effect—the air was laced with stimulant.

“Commander?”

She recognized the voice now. It was Hokusha. She knew he would’ve managed to survive.

“I’m alive,” she replied flatly, trying to reassess exactly what had happened. They were being inserted into the battle zone when the Jaaq’tah had launched against them. Area-of-effect cluster munitions, but they couldn’t have been AP. The cluster munitions would’ve penetrated her andrium armor and shredded her before she even knew what happened. No, they must’ve been designed to take out heavier targets, so the lion’s share of damage had been dealt by the overpressure shockwave.
Suddenly, she snapped back into full functionality. “SitRep, now. What’s your status, Hokusha, Wolf?”

Xero was 50 meters to her left, SLICS telling her that his suit was still 98 percent functional. Wolf was a bit further away, with his suit 72 percent functional.

“Outside of a blown shield generator, I’m fine,” replied Xero, three of his drones spreading outward as his forward eyes and ears.

“My suit gyros are temporarily offline, but I think I can bring them back online,” said Wolf, an obvious groan in his voice. “A few broken ribs, but nothing serious.”

“What about contact with Red Team?” asked Alicia.

“Nada,” replied Xero, acknowledging her. “Out of range. Our evasive maneuvers blew us way off course. Even worse—they know where we are. I’d expect company real soon.”

Damn. The goddamned Jaaq’tah would no doubt flood this area with a gang of their Chameleon-suited troopers. While one-on-one they didn’t stand a chance, the Jaaq’tah never fought with such odds. To exacerbate the problem, the Chameleon-class armors were equipped with powerful cloaking systems, which made them hard to pick out even with their powerful ECCM packs. They’d have to evade.

“Alright, Xero, help Wolf get his suit operational. We need to get on the move ASAP,” said Alicia, doing a weapons check.


* * * *

“We have to assume Blue Team has been taken out,” said Ashton DeGaulle, after the sixth attempt to establish contact with Commander Clark and the rest of her unit. “Tacnet confirms that the Jaaq’tah launched surface-to-air weapons against them.”

“Goddamnit,” said Proto in an unusual outburst, clenching his teeth. He didn’t believe for one minute that Xero and the others had been killed—Xero had survived way too much bullshit to be taken out by a few measly SAMs. “We have to go make sure.”

“We can’t,” said Ashton. “We have a mission.”

“He’s right, Proto,” said Arete in a somber tone. “That’s precisely the reason Alicia broke us up into teams. At least this way they didn’t get us all in one blow. If they’re alive, then they’ll try and continue the mission and make it to the extraction point.”

Proto clenched his fists. “Fuck it!”

Ashton ignored Proto’s outburst. “Alright, let’s move out.”

* * * *

The Jaaq’tah Chameleon trooper, Qatan, crouched low to the ground. He could smell the stench of the humans that had been brought down by his unit’s mobile air defense vehicles. The humans had fought with a ferocity that surprised the Jaaq’tah on this world, pushing the legions of Jaaq’tah ground forces underground to fight a guerilla-style war. Thankfully, the humans didn’t believe in completely razing a world; they liked to take worlds intact. That gave Qatan and the rest of his unit a chance to kill as many humans as possible. All for the glory of the emperor.

“I want them found,” said Qatan with a snarl. “Don’t go after them directly. I want you to encircle them and slowly tighten the noose. Once we have them in our grasp, we will have some fun with them.”

His subordinates chirped back in with their acknowledgement.

Eighty-seven troopers moved out from their positions, homing in on the crash area and a zone five miles around it to hunt down the humans that had been shot down there.

“They must be a commando unit,” said Afura, Qatan’s second in command.

“We received only six contacts plus there was no initial aerial bombardment. That means there is something they want here.”

“Very well. Keep at least one of them alive. I want to know what they’re coming for.”

* * * *

“Yep, they’re moving out in force,” said Xero over the encrypted communications channel, looking at a top-down view of the battle zone provided to him by one of the orbiting warships above. “We’re talking at least two companies worth.”

Wolf had finished the repairs and diagnostics on his battledress. It was now fully functional, though it still looked like it was in a bad way. He had lost the suit-integrated assault rifle, but he retained his prized plasma enveloper, which was a monster at close ranges. “That’s just fine with me. We just need to keep pressing forward. Knowing standard Jaaq’tah battle tactics, they’ll want to surround us.”

“Then let’s get on the move,” said Alicia, starting in a moderately-paced run on the path laid out by her tactical computer. Xero and Wolf followed.

* * * *

“They’re going after Alicia and the others,” said Arete in mid-hop, her jump-jets slowing her descent to the ground then pushing her up and into the air again in another hop. “Maybe they didn’t see us.”

“Either that or they’re going after targets who they think are injured and can’t effectively fight or evade them,” said Ashton. “Doesn’t matter; let’s head to the first checkpoint. ETA is seven minutes.”

Proto remained silent. He couldn’t focus on the others right now. He had to get revenge.

* * * *

Inside the Iron Legion Fortress

A fountain of iridescent purple blood shot into the air as Ravencroft decapitated a Jaaq’tah trooper with his forearm-mounted high-frequency vibroblade. Before the trooper could hit the ground, Ravencroft caught him, laying him silently on the ground. “Time to rock the casbah…”

Ravencroft retracted his blade, raising his rifle and zooming in with the scope to focus on a guard some fifty meters away. He pulled the trigger, a single 6mm round streaking through the air at hypersonic velocities and drilling the trooper right through his forehead. Before the trooper even hit the ground, Ravencroft lobbed a grenade and ran for cover. The grenade emitted a fog into the air before its electric pulse detonator unleashed an awesome explosion akin to those of the 20th century’s fuel-air explosives. The blast propagation and effect was simply awesome as it created an awesome rolling firestorm inside of the massive iron fortress.

“Alright you dumb sons of bitches, who want some?” said Ravencroft, detonating stabilized liquid explosives planted along strategic sites inside of the complex. Before the interior guards could react, they were consumed in the massive explosions inside, and in the confusion, he began to make his escape.

* * * *

Outside the Fortress

A flight of SF-27 strike fighters skimmed the ground at high velocities, launching their full load of ground penetration missiles before breaking away to rearm at the nearest allied airbase. Twenty-four missiles hit their targets, penetrating 30 feet before their combination explastic/stabilized liquid explosive warheads blasted craters clean through the Jaaq’tah military fortress.

Right on the heels of the air strike, a squadron of dropships came over the horizon, guns and rockets smashing defensive emplacements with incredibly high volumes of firepower. Under the veil of this cover fire, the dropships opened up as members of the 54th Airborne Infantry Regiment descended upon the fortress’ iron shell.

Ravencroft emerged from the fortress during all the hoopla, watching as the cavalry made their entrance into the battle. “Time to get the hell outta dodge.”

* * * *

Back in the jungle

The ECM blister in Qatan’s suit was working overtime as it struggled to blend the Jaaq’tah warrior into the background radiation. He’d been tracking the human trio for quite some time now with other elements of his command squad, slowly moving parallel with them while they evaded the larger group that was in plain view of their sensors.

“Group One, move around in front of them; we’ll flank them,” said Qatan, sending his orders in graphical form on the tactical map to the rest of his unit.

* * * *

“Hnn….” said Wolf in a low tone, small EMS spikes appearing and disappearing on his heads-up display.

“What’s wrong, Hansen?” asked Alicia, pulling up the data that was appearing on Wolf’s screen.

“We have company,” said Wolf, turning off the safety of his plasma enveloper. “They’ve been trailing us for awhile. They have excellent ECM, but my sensors were able to burn through. I don’t know exactly how many of them there are, but knowing Jaaq’tah tactics, we’re severely outnumbered.”

Xero frowned, reaching for his plasma saber, crouching low to the ground. “Shh….”

* * * *

“Attack!” screeched Qatan, a hailstorm of energy bolts turning the once serene forest into a war zone. The first unit came in full force, lobbing grenades and other powerful weapons into the fray. Sustained fire lasted for over thirty seconds until the target area was nothing but a smoldering crater.

Qatan chuckled, stepping forward from his position, sweeping his energy rifle from side to side, searching for any trace of the enemy. “So much for finding out what they were after…”


* * * *


“Jesus…” said Arete, her EMS sensors almost maxing out as the firefight was picked up on her sensors. “That was one hell of a barrage, but they’ve stopped firing. The EMS levels are decreasing.”

“We should go help them and give them a nasty surprise,” replied Proto, eager to jump into action.

“No,” said Ashton flatly, pressing forward still. “We have to accomplish our mission. Now let’s keep moving. With their search parties out here, we have the advantage and might be able to get in and out before they get back.”

“Goddamnit, DeGaulle, that’s my brother back there!”

“I know. All you can do is focus on getting revenge. Not another word about it.”

“DeGaulle!”

Ashton kept on going.

“DeGaulle!!!!”

Arete put a hand on Proto’s shoulder. “C’mon, Proto. He’s right.”

Proto drove his right fist through a tree. “When we get back, I’m gonna break his fucking legs.”

* * * *

Xero Hokusha’s suit blended him in perfectly with the background radiation, even with his plasma saber emitting a tremendous amount of energy. He isolated the Jaaq’tah troopers surrounding them – there were over eighty of them in total. Those targets were red on his HUD, the two friendlies in green, both of which were moving around to the rear of the team that had been flanking them.

Now it was time to do what he did best: wreak havoc on the enemy.

* * * *

“They aren’t dead….” said Qatan in a low voice. He could sense it, but where were they? Surely these humans couldn’t be that fast…..could they?
Before Qatan could finish that thought, he saw a orange-white flash with his peripheral vision followed by a trooper falling to the ground, minus his head. Before he could fully register what had happened, two more fell to his left – all in silence.

“Attack!!!!!!”

Qatan’s unit began to react, some elements maneuvering to surround and destroy the target while others simply tried to keep the target pinned down, but he was moving so fast it was near impossible.

Qatan growled, trying to track the human to no avail. He was taking apart his unit piece by piece!

Qatan raised his plasma carbine and took aim, his targeting computer finally gaining a targeting solution. He fired—


* * * *

Xero’s peripheral vision caught a blue-white bolt of plasma streak towards him. “Fuck!” exclaimed Xero, instinctively sweeping his saber across in a wide arc, the EM containment field that shaped the plasma into a cutting blade coming into contact with the bolt fired by Qatan. The resultant force was incredible, sending Xero reeling backwards and his plasma saber flying off, its capacitor burned out from the impact.

“Goddamnit!” yelled Xero, reaching for his suit-integrated assault rifle, loosing multiple three-round bursts of high-velocity 6mm rounds as he sprinted across the scorched earth, evading fire. “A little help?”

Xero saw three EMS spikes on his HUD in rapid succession, representing the launch of three light ground-hugging missiles. The missiles moved at subsonic velocities, but were highly maneuverable, flying just off the surface of the ground and moving in a snake-like pattern to avoid point-defense fire. It just so happened that this time, the Jaaq’tah troopers had no idea what hit them as the missiles’ tandem explastic and stabilized liquid explosive warheads generated an explosive firestorm that engulfed them almost instantly. There would be nothing left.

Xero’s flare compensators protected his eyes from the intense light of the explosion as he took cover, keeping his rifle trained on the target area. “Took you bastards long enough.”

Wolf lowered the shoulder-fired missile launcher, dropping the empty weapon on the ground. “With all your hot dogging, just be glad you survived at all.”

Commander Clark sent two of her drones out to hunt for any stragglers, but she found none. But there was no way that the lizards wouldn’t send reinforcements. They had to move quickly while the fire zone was still hot. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”


* * * *

Saida’k shut off the tactical holographic monitor, turning to one of his subordinates. “They’re coming for me, aren’t they?”

“Yes, m’lord,” replied the young dragon-esque creature, bowing in the presence of his beloved prince. “They must be special forces troops, but we will crush them.”

Saida’k shook his head. “They’ve assaulted the Iron Fortress – human soldiers are defiling sacred ground. They’ve forced me underground like a common peasant. No more. We’re going to take the battle to them. Prepare my battlesuit and tell Commander Nyl’ei to get his regiment ready. We will push them off this world today.”