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Author: Istvan1956
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A Cup of Joe
By Istvan1956
Day One: 0630 hours local time, Terran Republic Sanctuary
Major Tsonge rolled out of his bunk at the sound of the alarm. Barking out a word in the language of his fathers the alarm clock ceased its trilling. The major shook the cobwebs from his head, wearily stood up and headed to the latrine. After emptying his bladder he stripped and stepped into the shower. “Water, mist, steaming hot,” he intoned. The base computer complied, regulating the water temperature just enough to prevent scalding the man.
Letting the water work its magic on his body, Jaos Tsonge or “Joe” to his few friends, let his mind wander back to the events of the last few hours. The satellite probe had passed in low orbit over the Vanu Sanctuary when it suddenly quit transmitting. Its orbit was decaying and despite the best efforts of her remote pilot and engineers she was coming down. Estimates were that it was just a matter of hours before it entered the atmosphere of Auraxis. The projected landing was somewhere on the contested continent of Ishundar.
“So much for our stealth technology,” he muttered to himself. “The Barnies are always full of surprises.”
“The Barnies” were the Vanu Sovereignty, one of three factions vying for control of the planet. Originally the human expedition had been united under the banner of the Terran Republic, the empire that had governed Old Earth for over a millennia. Thirty-one years ago the Auraxis expedition left Sol not in one of the old colony seed ships but in a fleet of modern vessels. This meant that the expedition had a much greater chance of survival. The older ships were sent solo, relying on slower-than-light fission drives alone to cross the distance between the stars. It took ages for the automated ships to reach their destinations. Colonists were merely cargo, carried in cryogenic chambers in the hold along with embryos of Terran animals and preserved seedlings. It was a one way trip and few colony ships were ever heard from again.
The discovery of wormholes changed the face of space exploration. Sol had no link between the stars, but the next closest system, Alpha Centauri did. It was stumbled on by accident, as the wormholes gave no sign of their presence. Once the survey ship transited back through the wormhole the news went out. Sensors were calibrated to detect the presence of “null space” as wormholes were officially called. There were hundreds that linked the universe like spider webs. No longer was Man limited to a few nearby star systems. Wormholes gave access to dozens of life-bearing worlds.
Auraxis was just one of them, but one which held a secret. The first explorers found evidence of an ancient race, the Vanu. That is why the Terran Republic sent a full military expedition instead of just a bunch of colonists. Thousands of scientists with their families, support staff and military “protectors” took possession of three of the thirteen landmasses that dotted the surface of the water world. Bases were set up in the temperate zones and research commenced.
Their discoveries revolutionized the science of the Terran Republic. The Vanu were masters of nanotechnology, miniature robot factories that could replicate virtually any design given to them. It wasn’t just their industry that amazed the scientists but also their medicine. The Vanu had eliminated disease on the planet; there were no harmful microbes and viruses on Auraxis till the humans landed. Then it was noticed after a while that the colonists stopped getting sick. Even those with pre-existing conditions found them clearing up. Again this was the work of another type of Vanu nanobot which invaded the humans and acted as boosters to their natural immune systems.
The greatest discovery was not the cure for cancer, the micro-robotic factories, the amazing power sources or the hidden wealth of untapped resources the Vanu left behind. It was the ability of the Vanu to self-replicate. Clones were known to the Terran Republic but there had always been limits on how many times a person could be cloned. Another problem was that the clone was always a blank slate. No memories were ever passed on from the original. Hence clones were simply grown for spare parts in case of injury or organ replacement.
That was no more. The Vanu nanotechnology overcame the limitation on memory transfer. The medical nanobots in the host’s bloodstream were in constant communication with each other. When a colonist died the nanobots perished with the person but their memory remained in the overall “system” of nanobots. Soon every person on Auraxis had their genetic matrix stored on computer. If someone was killed in an accident the matrix was used to grow a new clone. It was then infused with nanobots who carried with them the memories of the dead host. Thus the clone was, in almost every way, a true duplicate of the person who had died.
Naturally there was a down side to this technology. For some reason the Vanu nanobots treated fetuses the same as cancerous tumors and destroyed them. No children were born on Auraxis or could be until the full key to nanobot programming could be unlocked. So the technology stayed on Auraxis and wasn’t taken back to Earth. While some argued that the over-populated home world would benefit from the population control and longevity benefits others felt that the price of near immortality was too high. That humans would stagnate and not evolve as a race if reproduction was eliminated. Respawning technology was repressed by the Terran Republic limiting it to Auraxis only.
Cracks started to appear in the expedition after that. Morality and politics usually breed conflict and it did here too. The government suppressed the dissenters so they moved underground. A new movement appeared calling itself the Vanu Sovereignty. They held to a manifesto that man was destined to inherit the gifts of the Vanu. The Terran Republic was old and shortsighted in curbing experimentation on humans, in merging Vanu technology and human science. They were the harbingers of progress, they would lead mankind to the light.
The Vanu Sovereignty appealed to the younger scientists, technicians and rebellious youth among the colonists. Those older and wiser distanced themselves from overt support knowing how the government responded to rebellion. The young plotted revolution, painted slogans on facilities and sabotaged military hardware but never gained popular support.
The purge that followed was brutal. Those V.S. that were caught were executed and their matrices erased. Suspected sympathizers were rounded up and ruthlessly interrogated by the military police. When senior command learned that some soldiers were disgusted by government excesses reinforcements were brought in from Old Earth. Soon Auraxis was an armed camp with troops uneasily watching each other for signs of mutiny and the colonists for proof of terrorist sympathies.
Twenty years after the arrival of the expedition, an event shattered the status quo of Auraxis. The wormhole connecting the colony to Earth collapsed. Communication was now impossible; the few ships in orbit were not equipped for the long journey home. The local military government was without guidance. At first they imposed a blanket censorship of the collapse, sustained by the hope that it was a temporary abnormality. But that hope faded as time passed by with no sign of the wormhole opening again. Even among the commanders there was uncertainty over which course to follow. A few argued that they should forge a separate course since they may be cut off from Old Earth forever.
When the news finally leaked chaos broke out. Those that sought to bring down the regime saw this as their chance. The Vanu Sovereignty seized facilities on one of the sub-continents executing any that resisted them. Sympathetic soldiers joined with the V.S. rebels while others stood by and refused to move against the uprising. A few loyal T.R. commanders found themselves roused at gunpoint, dragged to a wall and shot by their junior officers. Locked out of the base computers held by the rebels they had to respawn hundreds of kilometers away at the nearest friendly facility.
Terran Republic headquarters was in disarray. Commanders yelled across tables and monitors, exchanging threats and even bullets. Some of the units that initially stood by neutral now declared their independence. Not in favor of the Vanu Sovereignty’s manifesto but under another banner, that of the New Conglomerate. The N.C. sought freedom and liberty from the Terran Republic but not in the mold of a master race like the V.S. seemed to be. Units broke ranks and dissolved. Bases changed hands. Fighting grew fierce and nasty as factions sought to deny access to the vital respawning points. The only thing that prevented weapons of mass destruction from being used was that all sides had them. If one side used them then the other two would retaliate. They also risked the loss of vital resources and technology each continent and each base held.
Early on in the war there was an incident on Amerish, one of the temperate continents. New Conglomerate rebels were holed up in Kyoi Bio Laboratory. They were well dug in with a large number of power armor suited mobile infantry, dubbed MAX’s (Mechanical Assault Exo-suit) protecting the walls and roof from airborne assault. The N.C. Maxes have a force shield that made them nearly impervious to conventional Terran Republic weapons. So the local T.R. commander got the brilliant idea of using a non-persistent poison gas on the base. It worked but also destroyed precious hybrid Earth-Auraxis crop experiments. In fact it was the last source of home world food. Faced with eating synthesized native plants (humans could digest them but nobody liked their taste) for the rest of their lives the T.R. high command executed the local leader as an example of incompetence.
It was incidents like this that brought the leaders of the three empires to agree on rules of war. Restrictions were placed on weapons of mass destruction, research facility destruction and space warfare. Sanctuaries were set up where computer databases containing not just all of Mankind’s knowledge but the genetic matrices of every faction’s personnel were stored. Each faction received one such sub-continent from which no weapons could be directly deployed against another faction.
Major Tsonge’s quarters were on the T.R. Sanctuary in the southern villa below a respawn station and training facility. Despite the treaty granting the T.R. protection the base was well defended against all forms of attack. Even the powerful orbital strike weapons could not penetrate deeply enough to take out the headquarters of T.R. Military Intelligence. Even so Major Tsonge strapped a Repeater pistol to his side before heading to his office.
Day One: 0713 hours local time, Terran Republic Sanctuary
“Good morning, Hosi.” Specialist Bryan Goldsbury liked to call his boss “chief” in his native language of xiTsonga. Few Terrans knew their cultural roots. The Republic had long preached unity over individuality, assimilation over national identity. However those in Military Intelligence were sought out for being independent thinkers. So sometimes quirks like cultural pride were tolerated if their loyalty was proven.
“Just ‘morning,’ Bryan, there is nothing good about it. What’s the status of our bird?” Major Tsonge rummaged around for something to eat. There was a half-eaten protein bar and a cold cup of synth-coffee on Goldsbury’s desk. The enlisted man pulled open a drawer, fished out another protein bar and tossed it to his commander. The label read, “D Ration, Choco-nut, fortified.” The major winced but tore off the wrapper and bit into it. The chocolate coating masked some of the bitter taste that scientists never seemed to get all the way out of native foods. The “nuts” were just lumps of semi-processed tree pulp, nutritious and full of fiber. Unlike some of the rations these kept you regular.
“She’s still up but we’ve narrowed down the landing zone as somewhere between Dagon Bio Lab and Girru Tech Plant. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the N.C. hold the continent.” Goldsbury swiveled his monitor around to show a grid layout of Ishundar with the projected path laid out in red on it. There were tower outposts in the region meaning the landing would not go unnoticed.
“Great, if they find the probe we lose the data. And they will ‘ku vunda’ it to ambush anyone we send after it.” Tsonge smiled as he saw Goldsbury quickly type “ku vunda” into his computer translation program. It was a game they played, each one spazing the other in xiTsonga. The term “ku vunda” means to “sit and wait for something to happen,” like when a hunter sits in a blind for game to come by. The major’s ancestors were from southeast Africa, the ancient nation-states of Mozambique and the Republic of South Africa. They were hunters of leopards, antelope and elephants, wary and crafty warriors. The major had inherited a keen mind that missed few details and the patience of his forebearers.
“We need to find it quickly, download the data and booby-trap it so the next one who finds it regrets messing with us,” the major concluded. “Bryan, who is available from Shadow Company?”
Shadow Company was an elite band of warriors that the T.R. high command relied on for high risk missions of this type. Goldsbury pulled up a roster of outfits and shook his head. “Sorry, sir. They are tagged for another operation.” He paused while scanning the roster. “In fact there isn’t a single team available at the moment. All we have are loners and losers.”
Major Tsonge swore under his breath as he crossed the room and viewed Goldsbury’s monitor. “Loners” were operatives who only worked solo. “Losers” were misfits kicked from other teams or those tagged unfit for duty, usually due to some aberration in their psych profile. Too often the “loners” were “losers” as well.
The major perused the list of available operatives, checking off several promising candidates while deleting the worse of the losers. Turning to Goldsbury he said, “Pull up their files and last field reports. I want to review them on my monitor.” With that he walked back across the office, ordered a cup of black syth-coffee from the dispenser and sat at his desk. The first of the files was already on the display.
“This one is out. So is this guy. She’s okay.” Goldsbury followed the major’s remarks and was anticipating his next question. “Sergeant Ohara is resting following her last operation with D2A. Shall I summon her from the North Villa?”
The section leader nodded as he reviewed her file. “Sgt. Bunny Ohara, age 31, born on Auraxis in the first year of colonization. Her mother must’ve been pregnant before she landed on world,” Joas noted to himself. “Service record indicates certifications as a pilot of Mosquito scout craft, all terrain vehicles, infiltration suit, advanced hacking and as a combat engineer. All the marks of a good ‘cloaker’.”
A “cloaker” was the common slang term for soldiers who worked as scouts, spies, assassins and saboteurs. They were despised more than any other soldier, including snipers. In fact most snipers feared cloakers who hunted the hunters. The infiltration suit was the key to the cloaker’s identity. Another Vanu improvement to existing Terran science the suit bent light to give the appearance of transparency to wearer. However, activity other than moving slowly increased the chance of visual detection. Another way to see a cloaker was to illuminate the area with dark light. The UV rays would cause the cloaker to glow instead of remaining covert. Even motion sensors and audio amplification were no guarantee of detecting a cloaker. Sensor shielding technology allowed the most proficient of infiltrators to move right past monitors and sentries alike.
“Yes, Sergeant Ohara will do nicely. Give her a call.” Goldsbury put the summons out while the major reviewed her last field report:
“My orders were to assist units of D2A in the capture of Jarl, Essamir being held by Vanu Sovereignty terrorists. Specifically I was tasked as a pathfinder for Gold Squad, 1st Platoon, D2A whose target was to destroy the base power generator via the rear sally port of the base.
“At H-Hour minus 30 I arrived at position Red Five (see attached map) with my cloaked Wraith ATV. I enabled my sensor shield implant and moved forward to reconnoiter the target. I found the base sally port to be protected by automated defenses: a motion sensor, two spitfire turrets and eight proximity mines. Additionally there was a sentry patrolling the parapet of the base.
“The sentry was distracted by the pre-assault bombardment by Death Fist’s battery of Flail artillery. Clearing a path through the minefield was then possible with my jammer grenades. I replaced the two mines I detonated with ACE’s from my pack to keep the minefield looking intact. One spitfire turret detected me throwing the grenades but I kept myself out of its line of fire until it lost contact with me. I do not believe I was on the base’s radar more than two-three seconds.
“After replenishing my grenades and ACE supply from the trunk of the Wraith I booby-trapped each spitfire with a remote controlled boomer charge. At H-Hour minus 10 Gold Squad, 1st/D2A arrived at position Red Five in two Raider APC’s. Unfortunately their arrival did not go unnoticed. One V.S. Reaver attack gunship made a strafing run with rockets. The combined power of all ten 15 mm cannon destroyed the enemy aircraft but the element of surprise was lost.
“Shortly two MAX suits exited the back door to deal with the threat. The first one was a Comet anti-vehicle MAX. It was neutralized by the mines I had laid down. The second MAX, a Quasar, used his jump jets to fly over the mine field. Gold Squad, led by Lt. Ajax, had disembarked and deconstructed their vehicles as planned. Thus they were without cover when the MAX landed in their midst.
“The enemy was a skilled fighter. He killed Lt. Ajax and two other troopers creating temporary havoc in the squad. One hit from a Decimator rocket damaged him but before a follow-up shot was made the soldier was ripped in two by a full burst from the MAX’s pulse lasers. I recommend Lance Corporal Nunber for his bravery. Unfortunately neither he or Lt. Ajax could be reconstructed by the squad’s advanced medic.
“The wounded foe retreated back to the sally port. Fortunately he passed near one of the booby-trapped spitfire turrets, perhaps thinking they would protect him. When I detonated the boomer charge the secondary explosion from the turret ammo finished off the enemy.
“M.Sgt. Dogg rallied the remaining members of Gold Squad. I led them through the minefield to the sally port. Using my R.E.K. device I hacked the door lock. Taking my place in the third position in the formation we penetrated the base. Two enemies, possibly the same two we previous engaged, attempted to thwart our advance with Lasher fire. They were pinned in place by heavy weapons fire and flanked by troopers who surged around them before engaging the enemy with assault rifle fire on their flank. We lost one more soldier KIA but he was able to be rez’d from the dead by our medic. Another engineer with the squad repaired his armor.
“Again I was called to bypass the enemy’s IFF lock. Using additional Decimator launchers the squad quickly pulverized the generator. We fled the room when the overload warning went off. Following the explosion we re-occupied the generator room to prevent its’ repair. There we held off the enemy for 25 minutes until the base was hacked and we were relieved. I accounted for six enemies: the two MAX’s, two rexo-suited infantry using boomer charges by the door, one enemy in agile armor with my Repeater pistol and one cloaker with my chain-blade knife.”
Day One: 0747 hours local time, Terran Republic Sanctuary
Sergeant “Kamakazi” Bunny Ohara was having her first hot meal in days when the summons came. Cursing the gods of war she shoved her meal down the recycle chute and left the D2A mess hall. Outside Lt. Col. Verki gave her a too long of a once over as she straightened her skin tight uniform. Pausing to retrieve her weapons from the neighboring arms room she gave him the one finger salute. He grinned and returned the gesture. “Death to All” discipline was pretty lax off of the battlefield. Swapping jokes was common, even between officers and enlisted personnel. All levity aside she headed for the lift wondering what staff wienie was responsible for screwing up her life today.
Once on the surface of the North Villa she walked over to a teleport pad and stepped inside the shimmering blue band of light. Another legacy of the Vanu was the mysterious warpgates that connected each of the thirteen continents on Auraxis. Scientists believed that these giant structures’ appearance after the colony foundation resulted from explorers tripping some hidden trigger. Nanobots suddenly began to construct the bubble-like gates. The Vanu transport system seemingly fed off of an inexhaustible supply of nanite energy, possibly from the core of the planet. The human based equivalents were far cruder and needed replenishment from the Vanu warpgates. So the human made teleport pads were only used to connect a few facilities in the Sanctuary.
The trip was instantaneous though disorienting. One second she was at the North Villa and the next she was stepping out of the blue light at the East Villa. She turned around and walked back into the same band of blue. She popped out now at the South Villa. Sergeant Ohara shook her head and looked around to get oriented.
Soldiers were scurrying like ants to a pair of Galaxy class troop transports. Markings on the side indicated that they belonged to the Phoenix Legion. A Marauder class assault buggy was being loaded into the back of one. Somewhere the enemy was going to get a nasty surprise as these guys dropped into their base courtyard. Further off she spied a Lodestar heavy transport loading an Advanced Mobile Station or AMS. This unarmed heavy truck was vital to the success of any operation.
Raids like this one produced casualties. While medics could heal and even resurrect some fatalities not everyone would make it. Using the Vanu respawning technology those killed in action (KIA) could quickly be brought back to the fight at a hidden AMS. And hidden is the literal truth. Each AMS utilized a cloaking field similar to the one Sgt. Ohara wore on her infiltration suit. Unlike the suit’s cloaking shield generator, the AMS had to stop and deploy or it wouldn’t work. Even when deployed it didn’t always stay working. Any damage to the vehicle would cause the cloaking shield to fail. War is a risky proposition, success or failure depends more often upon little details like proper placement of support vehicles than the “big plan.”
Bunny consulted her suit display for a map of the local area. One of a series of identical appearing structures Building SO-4 Alpha held the usual spawn room and virtual reality training areas. Beneath it was the headquarters of the Terran Republic’s Military Intelligence service. Like all line soldiers Sgt. Ohara thought “military intelligence” was an oxymoron. She had paid the price in blood for bad or faulty intelligence.
The door opened after the lock scanned the DNA in her hand. It was a highly sophisticated version of the standard Identify Friend or Foe (IFF) lock that she could bypass in her sleep. This one would take a few minutes longer to bypass but she was sure she could do it. Whether or not she’d get away with it was more difficult to say. Inside the door was a pair of Terran Republican Guards in dual-cycler MAX’s. At least one would have dark light on whenever the door activated to prevent cloakers like herself from entering the facility.
Today she wasn’t cloaked and this was a friendly visit. At least she hoped so. “Konichiwa, boys” she said while holding both hands up where they could see her empty palms. “I was summoned by a Major Tsonge. Can you give me a clue where to find him?”
“Don’t move,” commanded one of the guards. Bunny froze while the second guard spoke into his radio. She couldn’t read his lips through the opaque helmet but she assumed he was checking her story. After a minute he unanchored his MAX and simply said, “Follow me.”
Lowering her hands slowly she smiled at the guard by the door and followed the other MAX down the corridor. At the lift there was a third guard behind a counter, this one a brassy blonde NCO in reinforced exo-armor (aka “rexo”) with a Suppressor SMG strapped across her ample chest. “Level 9 – Red,” her escort said.
“Right, leave your weapons here.” The blonde woman remarked while pulling open a drawer in the counter. “We’ll be scanning you to make sure you do.”
Bunny complied. She was wearing the basic uniform of the cloaker, the infiltration suit. Deactivated it looked like a black hooded workout uniform. It was very tight and revealed a figure much more lithe than the buxom blonde’s. Which makes sense, infiltrators have to be “lean and mean.” Survival could require squirming into narrow spots like hollowed logs or access ducts in enemy bases. Since Bunny was in the Sanctuary she was relaxed, foregoing the hood revealing her stylish razor cut black hair.
Another difference from the blonde NCO, Sgt. Ohara could carry only minimal gear in the cloaker suit. Quickly she emptied her pockets forming a small pile in the drawer. From her left cargo pocket she pulled an Adaptive Construction Engine (ACE), the combat engineering tool that could be deployed in any of four modes with a twist of the top. First as a heavy explosive charge or “boomer;” second as a proximity mine; third as an automated spitfire turret and lastly as a motion sensor. Basically it was a canister of programmable nanobots, the resources they needed to assemble the device and a spike for planting it into the ground or on a wall.
From her right hip holster she pulled out her Repeater model sidearm. This large semi-automatic pistol held 20 shots of the 9mm intermediate velocity round. It was very accurate and could reach out pretty far to take down an enemy. Her pistol was loaded with hollow point (HP) rounds. Spare magazines of HP and armor piercing (AP) ammo went into the drawer as well.
As a cloaker Bunny sometimes carried the AMP, a small machine pistol with a 30 round magazine. Though firing the same 9mm round as the Repeater the extremely compact design and simple blow-back action makes the weapon less potent and far less accurate shot for shot. It makes up for it by having an extremely fast rate of fire, dumping the whole magazine into the target in just a couple of seconds. It took longer to load than to expend the ammunition.
Thus the AMP is a weapon suited for a street fight or an ambush in a dark alley. You have to be close enough to your target to touch him. As you riddle his or her body with bullets you would see the impacts make the enemy jerk around. Some called this the “dance of death.” A few cloakers relished the kills made so close you could witness the victim’s fear and smell death as they lost control of their bowels.
Sgt. Ohara wasn’t like that. One miscue and the enemy could sense a cloaker’s presence. Since almost everyone carried heavier weaponry than a handgun it made the fight fair in her eyes. She didn’t see it as murder but as honorable combat between foes. Her enemies had opted for armor and weapon potency instead of stealth and speed, preferring brute force to subtlety. So be it, let the best soldier win.
Finally she pulled out her chain blade knife. No conventional blade could cut through the reinforced ceramic armor worn by a modern soldier. So the T.R. weapon had a high-speed diamond tipped saw blade that ripped through armor, flesh and bone. The only drawback to it was that when activated the whirl could be clearly heard, warning one’s prey. So Bunny usually used her blade as a utility knife rather than for combat.
The blonde raised her eyebrow, “That’s it?” Bunny nodded. The guard pointed toward the bulge in the cloaker’s right cargo pocket. “What’s that?”
“Oh, just my REK.” Bunny replied. The guard made a “give me” gesture with her hand. Ohara pulled out the offending item and handed it over. The Remote Electronics Kit or REK is a tool, not a weapon. Housing a small computer with decryption keys and hacking software it is capable of scanning any electronic lock or computer terminal and overriding its’ security temporarily. With access to a facility’s computer core at the command console the REK could infect the system with a worm that could eventually turn over command of the outpost to one’s own side. It could do the same with enemy vehicle computers if wielded by a skilled programmer. Bunny was one of those skilled enough to jack anything she wanted to. Which is why the guard wouldn’t let her into a high security facility with a REK. It was more dangerous than the boomer she carried.
Day One: 0759 hours local time, Terran Republic Sanctuary
“Sergeant Ohara,” the major quipped. “Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee and a protein bar?” Bunny declined. She had eaten enough of those things while in the field. Now all she wanted was a hot meal and a bunk. Taking a seat in his office instead she glanced around without gawking. The tall black man was obviously from Africa. He had items from his culture adorning the office. A large carved wooden mask along with a long throwing spear was on the wall. A huge eggshell etched with animals walking across the African savannah sat perched on a wooden base atop his desk. “What were those large African birds called?” She thought to herself. “That’s right, ostriches. They lay eggs that big.” She wondered how he had gotten these items from Old Earth to here. The major must have clout. So Bunny sat straight and listened to what he had to say.
“I have a priority mission for you, one that is also highly classified. You will be going alone, with limited back-up to Ishundar.” The major brought up a 3D map on the holo-display built onto the briefing table. He pointed to a barren area in the north of the continent. “We have a malfunctioning satellite going down in this region, somewhere in grids G-7 to G-9. I want you to retrieve the data from the probe and then destroy the satellite. At all cost do not let the data fall into enemy hands. The New Conglomerate may own the territory at the moment but they shouldn’t be a problem. No, the problem will be the Vanu Sovereignty. They were the source of the malfunction and may also come after the probe.”
“Why not just let me fly in there with my Mosquito, download the data and then fly out?” Bunny turned up the zoom on the map to look closer at the region. There were three towers in the area, well spread apart. A blue dot moved slowly between them following a dirt road. The icon indicated it was a two-man Harasser scout car. “How old is this information?”
“It is in real time. We diverted a spy bird to pass over the region to observe the crash site.” Bunny was impressed, this guy really had clout if could get the Terran High Command to pull one of their few space assets off of the battle front to cover a quiet area. She wondered why he was only a major.
Major Tsonge continued, “My plan is to drop you out of the back of a Galaxy transport on a cloaked Wraith ATV. The Galaxy will continue on to do a hot drop on Kusaq Tech Plant to divert the local garrison to the East Coast. That way the N.C. is none the wiser to your mission. The raid will likely fail but the Phoenix Legion sent handpicked volunteers who know the risk. After their forlorn hope assault on Kusaq they will respawn at the north Gate Outpost Watch Tower which will be held by another squad of the Phoenix Legion. That’s where you will be picked up for the return flight to Sanctuary.”
“It seems like a lot of trouble for a single insertion. What kind of data are we talking about?” Bunny wondered what was so important about the data from the satellite probe.
“It is on a need to know basis and you aren’t cleared for it. I can’t risk the information being compromised. Should you fail the Phoenix Legion has orders to call in a bombing run by a squadron of Liberators to pulverize the crash site and anyone there. You will broadcast a high-speed narrow band burst signal to me every 10 minutes. Fail to do so and I signal the Phoenix Legion to destroy the broken bird. Need I add that failure on your part will result in a court-martial?”
Bunny felt herself stiffen involuntarily. She had been threatened before but that was for minor stuff. Punishments that would’ve included a possible demotion, pay cut and maybe some manual labor. Failure of this magnitude could result in a “dereliction of duty” charge which carried a long sentence with matrix wiping. Effectively it was life in a prison camp with no chance at parole. And a very short life at that since labor in the gulags was dangerous as well as hard.
“I will not fail the Republic!” She snapped to attention and saluted. Major Tsonge returned the salute. “No, I’m sure you will do a good job. That’s why I picked you. But I had to warn you that there are those of high rank who have a personal stake in this mission. To fail in it will put both of us in a bad position.”
Now she understood. The major was under the same threat as she was. He hadn’t seemed like one of those iron-rod-for-a-spine tight-assed staff pricks that looked at line soldiers as beneath contempt. Or thought all enlisted personnel were untrustworthy, possibly mutinous. There were stories of some units whose commanders held the reigns only by the threat of matrix wiping. Then again, there were stories that was how the N.C. rebellion started. Enlisted men fighting back against the harsh officers. It wasn’t like that in her outfit. The rule was “Loyalty unto Death.” And that meant the final death where one couldn’t be brought back by Vanu technology. Besides, she had a good set of leaders who cared about their troops.
After a couple of minutes watching the live feed from the spy satellite of the region Bunny was ready to depart on the mission. Retrieving her weapons she took the lift back to the surface. Sure enough the two ship raid that she had watched form up was her escort in. She jogged to a vehicle terminal and requisitioned the cloaking all-terrain-vehicle (ATV). Once onboard her Wraith she stopped by an equipment terminal for supplies. Nine ACEs fit in the trunk along with two medical kits and some extra grenades. Then she rolled up the loading ramp into the waiting Phoenix Legion Galaxy. The mission was a go.
Day One: 0952 hours local time, New Conglomerate held Ishundar
Corporal Ray Baker was listening to music on his helmet’s speakers when his vehicle commander, Sergeant Melissa Kowalski, broke in. “We have an orange alert out at Kusaq.”
Baker nodded and went back to his song. It was a bootleg copy of an outlawed group, now thought to be in with the V.S. He didn’t care, so long as they produced music he liked. Still he kept his preferences under wraps. Not everyone was as tolerant as Kowalski was. Grabbing the twin handles of his roof mounted gun turret he swung the 12 mm chaingun around while watching the sight display. Nothing except pink fluffy clouds were to be seen on the horizon. He asked Kowalski, “Who’s messing with us?”
“It is the T.R. They dropped a squad or two on Kusaq and are destroying everything in sight. They don’t have a link so they must be trying to take it down to neutral. Fools!” Each base is linked to an empire’s computer grid. To hack into a base one had to either have a link to a friendly base or one had to take it out of the enemy’s lattice system completely. That was called “going neutral.” If the power drained out of a base eventually the base main frame would have to reboot. It is while it is rebooting that a base becomes more vulnerable to hacking.
Bases were too valuable to ever be destroyed. All three sides needed the resources and production capabilities of each type of base to support its’ war effort. Tech plants like Kusaq allowed for friendly linked facilities to produce heavy equipment and armor. They were one of the first targets when wagging a campaign for a continent. Hence there was no surprise when Kusaq was hit. It was just a matter of time before it, Girru, Baal or Marduk, the other tech plants on Ishundar, were hit. It was just stupid to take that base the slow way when there was a link to Girru. Unless they felt that was the expected way and they wanted to gain the element of surprise. Baker shouted above the noise of his own music, “Those T.R. are in for a rude awakening when they get the whole 666th Devil Dogs on them.”
Kowalski smiled wickedly. Garrison duty was rotated, line units would pull back to rest and refit every few days. Today the 666th Special Ops. “Devil Dogs” were helping to guard Ishundar. They were the largest and toughest outfit in the New Conglomerate Army. The pair of soldiers admired their comrades-in-arms for their ruthlessness in combat, especially against the T.R. stooges.
They continued on their patrol of the supply roads and remote outposts between bases. Kowalski had chosen to pull a counter-clockwise patrol in their scout car. After leaving Dagon Bio Lab they traveled along the southern leg of their patrol route to the Southeast Dagon Air Tower. They then drove on the Dagon-Hanish Road to the West Hanish Gun Tower. All was secure and running smoothly so they took a break at the Hanish Bio Lab. Another squad had the duty of checking the Southwest Hanish Air Tower since it was in the base’s Sphere of Influence (SOI).
They were on the northern leg of their route headed to Girru when the orange alert came in. Immediately they perked up and so too did security at the tech plant when they drove up to it. Harassers are made from radar absorbent materials but that doesn’t make a bit of difference to a guard in a Phalanx gun turret with a Mark I eyeball. They were tracked all the way to the main gate. There they had to pass inspection by a wary pair of guards holding Jackhammer shotguns. Not feeling welcome they quickly exited the other side of the base.
Moving west on the Girru-Dagon Road they were near the West Girru Air Tower when they saw it. Immediately the hackles on the back of their necks rose as they witnessed a fireball falling from the sky toward them. While nuclear weapons were outlawed by treaty they all had been trained on Nuclear-Biological-Chemical (NBC) warfare. The fireball looked like an inbound nuclear warhead. Kowalski lost control and put the car into a dry ditch. Baker just crapped his pants, his jaw slack and mouth wide open as the object dropped lower and lower.
Then it hit. They heard a huge boom and then felt the impact. Kowalski covered her face to prevent the flash from blinding her. Baker didn’t bother. But there wasn’t the expected flash or much of an explosion, just a dust cloud to the southwest. Kowalski recovered her senses first and called it in. “Rover Three-Three to Rover Three-Six, come in.”
The reply was immediate though bored sounding, “Rover Three-Six, go ahead Three-Three.”
“Rover Three-Three has observed a ‘Flash-bang’ event. I say again, Rover Three-Three has observed a ‘Flash-bang’ event.” Kowalski used the code word for a possible nuclear weapon strike. The operator sounded incredulous, “Repeat message, Rover Three-Three. Confirm you said you observed a “Flash-bang” event?”
“Three-Three, affirmative. It appears to be a dud. Strike was observed southwest of our location. Possibly in grid G-7 or G-8. Three-Three is investigating, out.” Kowalski got a sniff of Baker and screwed her face up. “What did you have for breakfast? Man, that reeks!”
Day One: 0955 hours local time, New Conglomerate held Ishundar
Sergeant Ohara heard the distant boom as the satellite broke the sound barrier before striking the earth. She was in position about a click from the projected landing zone. How Major Tsonge expected the N.C. not to notice the probe’s landing in their back yard was beyond her. They’d have to deaf, blind and dumb to miss it. Well, at least deaf and blind.
Starting up her quad ATV she puttered out of the wadi where she had taken shelter. Unlike the AMS the Wraith could remain cloaked while moving. Her infiltration suit worked in conjunction with the vehicle’s cloaking field generator to reduce visible emissions. The motor was muffled but not completely silent. Just like she wasn’t completely invisible while moving on the bike. The more she opened the throttle the less concealed she was. The problem was that for her to get up the walls of the canyons and ravines she had to pour on the fuel. It was a risk she had to take.
Flight Lieutenant Marco Martinez witnessed the satellite’s impact from another angle. He was flying at maximum altitude above northern Ishundar in a Mosquito light scout craft. Cloaked from radar but not invisible he kept out of visible range of the watch towers and bases. Flying over the small mushroom cloud he noted the coordinates down and relayed them to his task force leader. “Michael One-One to Michael One-Six.”
The voice that answered was anything but bored, “This is Michael One-Six, go!”
“Michael One-Six the angel has fallen. The angel has fallen. Coordinates are G-882. Repeat, G-882, on top of a cliff next to a deep canyon. Approach from the west, over.”
“Copy, grid coordinates G-882, approach from the west. Out!” The task force commander used the call name Michael for the arch-angel and patron saint of warriors. He was hardly Christian, considering that to be so much nonsense. Technically he was a follower of the Vanu but didn’t consider them gods either. He was just a pragmatist and an efficient soldier. He gave a wave and broadcast on the general channel, “Column, move out!”
Five armored vehicles responded to his command. In the lead was a Thresher, the fast but lightly armored hovercraft that mounted a pulse cannon on it. Behind it was his own Magrider hovertank. He rode in the main turret while the driver steered and aimed a fixed forward rail gun. Behind the Magrider were two 4x4 APC’s, an Aurora which doubled as light artillery and a Deliverer, providing limited air cover as well as transportation. Only 15 troops in all counting his airborne scout but a very potent force to be reckoned with.
The race was now on, three forces representing all the warring factions of Auraxis. Bearing down on a single unmanned vehicle crash site. Each side commanded great forces yet here was an encounter where more than a dozen souls would clash and die. Yet not one of them knew what they were fighting over.
Day One: 1012 hours local time, New Conglomerate held Ishudar
There wasn’t a good landing spot at the crash site so Flt. Lt. Martinez had to move off a ways before landing his VTOL (Vertical Take-Off & Landing) jet. That allowed Sgt. Ohara to get there first. She heard the jet engines and stopped her quad mid slope. Then she crept up till she saw the “Skeeter” move to the west to land. It was gray and purple, meaning V.S. and where there was one Barney there were more Barnies.
Bunny was prepared to take them on. In the trunk of the Wraith there were nine ACE’s, 4 grenade packs and two medical kits if worse came to worse. She was carrying her Repeater, spare ammo, a REK and another ACE. It was the last item she had out. Quickly she twisted the top round to “proximity mine” and planted the spike into the brush. There was just a narrow neck of land connecting the outcropping of rock where the probe had crashed and the mesa where the Mosquito had landed. If the pilot didn’t see the mine it would likely take off a leg or a foot. Maiming the enemy was more effective at times than killing him. It demoralized enemies to hear one of their own screaming his head off in pain.
Crouching she retreated back down to her ATV. She needed another ACE to place on the probe in case she had to destroy it. While getting it out she heard the explosion of the foot popper. This was followed by a yelp of pain and a stream of profanity causing her to smile.
Cautiously she made her way back up the slope. When a rock shifted under her feet she dropped to the ground and lay perfectly still. Her victim stopped swearing. He might still have some fight left in him after all. “That’s too bad for him,” Bunny thought as she eased her pistol out of its holster. It would be so easy to throw a plasma grenade up there to finish him but that might ignite the brush or worse, destroy the probe. Instead Bunny had to creep up and either disable or kill the pilot. Crab walking sideways she moved to another path up the canyon wall to the mesa top.
Sergeant Kowalski was royally pissed. Baker had shat himself and was not responding to her orders. If there was a problem she couldn’t trust him to cover her. Really bad that he occupied the only gunner’s seat. So she kept her eyes peeled for trouble. That’s what saved them both. She spotted the Thresher before it saw them. Turning down a steep slope she prayed that they weren’t spotted. Baker merely screamed. Then he started to smell worse. “I’m going to use you against the Barnies,” she called out while wrestling the steering wheel to avoid a large rock. “Your stench could end the war in one day.”
Their headlong flight ended in a sudden stop that sent both soldiers slamming forward in their harnesses. They had hit one of those boulders that just seem to appear in front of you. Kowalski tasted blood while Baker just hung limply in his seat. The sergeant popped her harness release and rolled out the left side of the open buggy. She landed in a prickly bush. That made her jump up, swearing at the bush, Baker, the Barnies and whatever fate had in store for her.
Looking up she witnessed three purple orbs arching toward her. She ran as fast as she could away from the Harasser. Baker never knew what hit him. The energy balls from the Aurora’s flux pod launcher pulverized the light buggy. Kowalski had only a few more seconds to live. She pulled the Phoenix missile launcher off of her back but never had the opportunity to stop and fire its single warhead. A second trio of deadly orbs splattered her blood across the landscape. Moments later she was being regurgitated from a cloning tank in Dagon. It was only then that she finished her string of curses.
Flight Lieutenant Martinez felt like his whole left foot was on fire. The only problem with that was that he knew the foot was gone, blown off by the mine he stepped on. It could have been anybody’s old mine but it was too close to the artifact. Likely the whole satellite crash was a trap and he had fallen for it. Now there was someone closing in on him and he waited to see who it was that would kill him. Clutching his Pulsar assault rifle he flicked the safety off. He would not be the only one to die today.
“Damn,” Bunny swore to herself as she peered over the edge of the cliff. The pilot was sitting up looking mighty alive for a guy who was missing one leg from the knee down. Worse he was holding one of those alien looking beam weapons the Barnies had developed from stolen Vanu technology. The weapon far outclassed her old fashioned projectile-spitting pistol. If she fired the muzzle-flash would give her position away and he’d cut her down before she would be able to penetrate his soft-fiber and ceramic body armor.
Just then they both heard the fire of a pair of flux cannons. It was the Aurora APC raining death upon the hapless N.C. patrol. While the pilot was distracted Bunny fired once, twice, thrice before he turned back and sprayed pulses of light back at her. Her rounds were hitting his armor and breaking it down. Then she was hit by a light burst which blinded her. Sgt. Ohara fell back and slid down the slope.
The fall saved her from serious injury. The burst had hit a rock in front of her and the blindness was temporary. Enough that she was now sure she would not be able to recover the data from the probe. She had to destroy it and get away.
Lt. Martinez was sure he had hit the cloaker. Of course it had to be one of those scum who sneak up on the wounded like jackals and vultures. If he could only drag himself over to the rim he would finish the maggot off. Now that he knew it was a cloaker he would use his darklight implant…then he’d see who was the predator and who was the prey.
Ohara picked herself up and holstered her weapon. No subtle ploys this time around. Taking out her second ACE she twisted the top to “spitfire turret” and stuck it into the ground at her feet. Then she ran down the trail and over to her bike.
The pilot glanced over the edge of the mesa in time to catch a glimpse of the cloaker running away. Marco brought his rifle up when he noticed a small green cloud appear on the ground behind her. Either she was laying more mines or…
The spitfire turret popped up and immediately locked on to the movement of the pilot’s rifle as he swung it toward the new threat. It coughed out a stream of bullets from its twin barrels nailing Lt. Martinez in the head. The turret continued to fire tracking his rifle as it tumbled down the hill from his lifeless hands.
Sgt. Ohara heard the spitfire turret go off and the wet twack of rounds hitting flesh. So much for that problem. But there were more problems coming in the form of V.S. armor. She needed to work quickly if she was to complete her mission.
First thing she did when she got back to the Wraith was to snatch up a med kit and break the seal. Injecting herself with the contents she felt much better. Each med kit contained a single use syringe of blood expander, mild stimulants and a few medical nanobots. They could repair minor damage but were not enough to rebuild broken bones or missing flesh. That required a medical applicator which supplied not only nanobots but the resources they needed to regenerate tissue and restore life. Bunny was not a medic so she wasn’t trained in programming the nanobots to repair major damage. It didn’t matter, the flash burn to her face hardly constituted a wound.
That taken care of she unloaded her pistol and gear back into the trunk of the ATV. She needed room for every ACE she could carry. It turned out that five was all she could carry in her suit and still remain cloaked. Taking the chance that she might be spotted she ran as fast as she could up the slope to the mesa. She had to get there before the V.S. main force did.
“Michael One-Six to Michael One-One, come in.” The commander repeated the message one more time. He could see the Mosquito on the mesa ahead but couldn’t see the pilot. He was concerned since his men had spotted and destroyed the N.C. patrol. It wouldn’t be long before the area would be swarming with enemy soldiers. He had no doubt they would overwhelm his small force.
“Sir, I see Lt. Martinez.” The young subaltern radioed from the Thresher where she sat. “His body lies to the south of the crash site, right along the rim. It appears that he was hit in the head.”
“Sniper fire?” The commander queried.
“No sir, more like automatic weapons fire. The damage is quite extensive.” The subaltern seemed unfazed by the sight of the mutilated corpse. They had all seen dead bodies too often. And mere physical death didn’t matter much any more. Not when five minutes later you could see the same soldier in a fresh body, carrying on the same conversation you had before he was blown away. The flight lieutenant was likely already respawning at their AMS, parked near the north warpgate.
“It could have been the Harasser, but I doubt it. They too were headed this way. Deploy the troops and send them forward carefully. The vehicles will remain here in overwatch position.” The commander scanned the area to the west for signs of N.C. response. They should be getting the news from their own resurrected soldiers soon enough.
“This is suicide,” Kamakazi Bunny thought to herself. She could see V.S. soldiers being disgorged by the APC’s. Six infantrymen dismounted, one of them with a sniper rifle. As Bunny crouch-walked slowly across the mesa to the downed probe she could feel the sniper’s cross hairs in the middle of her back. She was tempted to scratch there but kept her movements deliberately slow.
Snipers were known to be able to pick off cloakers from hundreds of meters away, usually when they ran but sometimes when they were walking slowly. The infiltration suit gave off a glimmer the faster you moved and snipers, picked for their keen sight and quick reflexes, would focus on it and shoot you dead. Once in a while they’d kill a friendly cloaker by mistake. Sometimes they did it on purpose…
It wouldn’t matter here, the sniper was a Barney and he would love to kill a cloaker with his powerful Bolt Driver rifle. It wouldn’t matter if he spotted her or not though if she didn’t get to the probe first. The T.R. High Command threat of court martial was a far greater threat than a V.S. sniper.
When she got to the small crater where the probe had impacted the rock she felt her heart flutter. There was no way she was going to be able to dig the probe out enough to retrieve the data with the tools she had in her Wraith. It made her previous decision to blow the satellite that much easier to explain. The probe may have had antennae or arms on it but now it consisted of nothing more than a dented, one meter wide metal cylinder. One end of which stuck out of the dirt and rock fragments. Taking the first of the ACE’s out of her pocket she set it on “boomer” and stuck it next to the cylinder. Then she set another next to the first. And a third, fourth and fifth heavy explosive charge.
Carefully she backed out of the crater into view of the soldiers. They were almost to the small mesa where she was. The point man had stopped and pointed down. Bunny started creeping toward the north cliff edge where she could jump if necessary to get away. That’s when she saw the point man pick up a boot. It was the foot from the pilot. The man was using it to emphasize his point. He was saying, “Minefield.”
Everyone froze with that word except for Sgt. Ohara. She smiled and kept on going. She had only used one proximity mine. Let them search for more, that would give her the seconds she needed to escape. Each of the Barnies retraced his steps back ten meters and stopped. The leader of the team pulled a jammer grenade and tossed it ahead. It exploded with a shower of blue sparks as the capacitor discharged all its energy as a single electro-magnetic pulse. The EMP would set off any mines, if there were any. With no secondary explosions from the first grenade the man readied a second one. Bunny saw it leave his hand in a high lob so she jumped.
And immediately she was spotted by one of the other V.S. soldiers. “Cloaker” he cried right before an immense explosion rocked the mesa. The jammer had detonated all five boomers, much earlier than Bunny wanted to them fire off. Deafened by the blast she rolled down the hill taking damage from every rocky outcrop along the way. Her suit shorted out and she was visible, if the enemy had time to look. Dust and rock flew from the top of the small mesa and coated the soldiers who were spread on the ground. Some stirred voluntarily, others just moaned in pain. One didn’t move at all.
“Squad leader, get your men moving!” bellowed the commander. The man that threw the grenade was dead. The one being yelled at shook his head and looked around dumbfounded. He had been deafened by the blast. A single cyan bolt from the Magrider’s turret got his attention. It passed a hairsbreadth above him. He quickly turned and started moving his troops. A medic was running from the Aurora to treat the wounded and revive the dead man.
Meanwhile, at the bottom of the canyon Kamakazi Bunny wished she was dead. Her right shoulder was dislocated and every square centimeter of her body was bruised or scraped raw from her tumble. Despite the pain she stood up, her right arm hanging limp at her side, muscles screaming at her every movement. Her first priority was survival. Sure, one could be resurrected from the dead but nobody liked the process. Besides, the enemy would want to make her suffer first. She might be stretched out on a rock in the sun for days, going mad from thirst before eventually dying. No, she wanted to get away and make it back. Besides it being a point of honor to count coup upon her enemy by stinging them and getting away with it.
Backing up against the rock face she grabbed her right shoulder with her left arm and pushed the arm into place. Then she slammed her body against the rock forcing her joint to pop back in. She screamed involuntarily at the pain and then flexed her right hand for a test. Things were back in place though still painful.
Now she had to do something about her infiltration suit before she headed back to the Wraith and her remaining med pack. It was ripped and shorted out. There was a repair kit but that had been lost on the way down the canyon wall. Bunny realized there was nothing she could do till she reached her ATV and its spare kit. Virtually naked and unarmed she began to move as stealthily as she could.
“The probe was a total loss, the mission a scrub.” The commander recalled his troops. That was not the worse outcome for the V.S. It was doubtful the T.R. had recovered the data either. The squad leader piped up, “Sir, what about the enemy cloaker? Can we go after her?”
The commander thought about it for a moment and then looked to the west. “Negative, the N.C. will be on us soon enough. Let them find her.”
“Saddle up,” the subaltern shouted. Where she learned that old cavalry cry the commander didn’t know. He planned on asking her later. Just then the Deliverer opened fire with one of its 20mm recoilless cannons. Tracers flew up at a distant dot that became larger and larger in the sky.
“Disperse, every man for himself!” The commander ordered as he buttoned up his turret and elevated his gun. The target was flying high but still was clearly identifiable as a Liberator bomber. Unfortunately for the V.S. the mesa they were on had only one exit, to the west. Vehicles collided as they streamed that direction. Men who were not quick enough to hop on board ran after the fleeing armor. That’s when the bombs started raining down on them, not anti-armor bombs but anti-personnel bomblets. Soon there wasn’t enough left of the infantry to resurrect.
The commander fought as best as he could but without a Skyguard anti-aircraft vehicle there wasn’t much they could do. The big bomber was just too high for the light 20mm cannons and the pulse lasers couldn’t elevate high enough to engage the aircraft. Switching to armor piercing bombs the Liberator finished off the task force one vehicle at a time. Sgt. Kowalski just smiled from the tail gunner turret as each vehicle exploded.
Down in the bottom of the canyon Bunny huddled behind a cluster of boulders as rocks slid down the walls. The bomb explosions just echoed on and on as the N.C. pulverized the mesa top with precision. Even the empty Mosquito was hit with an anti-armor bomb. And for good measure the N.C. bombed the small mesa where the probe had crashed. The rock slide from that bombing wrecked the Wraith and Sgt. Ohara’s hopes.
Day Three: 1750 hours local time, Terran Republic Sanctuary
Major Tsonge closed the file on “Operation Java.” The mission was a total loss. The data from the probe was not recovered and even the fate of Sgt. Ohara was unknown. She was listed as Missing-In-Action suggesting capture or worse, going over to the enemy. From what he had read about her Joe didn’t believe treason was in her make-up. It didn’t matter now. Both he and she were under suspicion and were to be court-martialed, Sgt. Ohara in abstencia. Their matrices would be wiped from the data bank. He would likely be executed. Joas looked around his office one last time.
“Bryan,” he spoke kindly to his assistant. “Would you take care of my things?”
The specialist nodded with a tear in his eye. “I would be honored, hosi.”
There were footsteps in the hall outside the office. Both men turned and stood at attention, expecting to see a squad of Terran Republican Guards come to take them away. Instead a single figure came through the door. She was slight, stooped and filthy. Barely recognizable as her skin was mottled brown and pink where sunburn and exposure had run its ruin. Her right arm was in a dirty sling. But they recognized her as she straightened herself and rendered a salute with her left hand.
“Sergeant Bunny Ohara, reporting as ordered, Sir.” Both men broke out in smiles but Major Tsonge ran up and took the frail girl in an embrace. She tightened up in pain and he quickly backed off. “It is good to see you Bunny. But first I have to ask you to report on your mission. Was it a success?”
“No sir, not completely. The probe was destroyed with a total loss of the data. However, I can assure you that neither the V.S. or the N.C. ever laid hands on it.”
With that assurance both men relaxed. Their careers and the Major’s life were saved. It would be a set-back for promotion but still, it would not be a fatal error. “I want your full report after you have been seen by our base physician. You need rest and a good hot meal.”
Bunny nodded, that was what she needed three days ago before accepting this mission. As she was ushered out she paused for a second. “Major, can I ask what was in the data we lost?”
The major pursed his lips in thought. Then he nodded. “You are entitled to know though you may never speak of it to anyone.” She agreed. He continued, “High Command believes there are some surviving Terran-Auraxis hybrid plants left from early experiments. We don’t know where they are hidden so we have been secretly surveying the entire planet. The side that finds a real earth food source could win a psychological victory and major recruiting aid.”
He held up a protein bar and a cup of synth-coffee. “In particular I was hoping to find something better tasting than this junk. If we found coffea arabica or coffea canephora trees I would be in heaven. What I would do for a real cup of Joe.”
This is a work of fan fiction. Planetside & Auraxis are copyright 2003 by Sony Online Entertainment. All rights reserved.
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