Mercenaries of Wander Yard

Zanzibar: Part One

Another fire played across the cosmos as I stared up into space. The naval battle was decided minutes after it started. Flashes of light, tiny specks racing from ship to ship, plumes of superheated plasma as troop carriers and cruisers popped in the vacuum. I wasn't sure whose ships controlled the space around Wander Yard but I hoped that whomever it was would be sending dropships soon to collect survivors. The blood and carnage on the surface was sure to attract Flesh Seekers by nightfall.

I looked down to the bodies at my feet and hoped beyond hope that I'd missed something. I was armed. Every good soldier stayed armed but my powersuit in the Jandii's first assault and my infantry armor failed when I took a cannon round to my powercells. It was a miracle that the pack didn't explode but it left me in my underwear and even that barely. I checked my makeshift rig. I had four blades, three "5 combat knives and a Jandii Phase Sword, more than enough if I could get close enough to use them. I had a photon Rifle with half a clip of what I hoped were homing rounds with corrosive tips... explosive tips wouldn't penetrate Powersuits and would only succeed in angering a Flesh Seeker.

I continued walking as I watched the sky. Two of Wander Yard's moons had set. Once the last two vanished from the sky It would become far darker than it already was and then the madness would start. Alpha Base was lost, burning at my back almost a mile away. I wasn't an officer of logistics but even I knew that someone had fucked up. The orbital satellites were to warn of a possible attack in enough time to allow the carriers to move into interference position and buy us time to get the shields up. However there was no such warning. Just a loud bang and the call to suit up. The talk along the forward skirmish lines was that command had been lost in that first volley and a corporal was calling the shots. A CORPORAL! Someone really fucked up.

Theoretically a human without atmosphere or oxygen rebreathers could survive a month on Wander Yard. Assuming they could avoid the Flesh Seekers that ruled the wild lands of the planet and food and clean drinking water were available. I considered these things as I gave the smoking husk of a hovertank a wide berth. They pounded the statistics of survival into your head continuously, during meals and even in your hypnosleep but it didn't prepare you for he reality. Naked, cold and sporting a slight concussion. I stumbled over a body and cursed at the skinned knee I received in return. Angry, i kicked the legs and they easily came free of their owner's torso with a sickening wet noise. I fought back my gorge and managed to take the dead man’s boots before staggering away and losing what little bit of food that I had managed to snatch while suiting up.

I think that my need to puke out of sight of the body saved my life. The sound of foot steps kept me low behind the stand of bushes I'd chosen and as I watched a trio of powersuits hissed over to the hovertank I'd just passed. They war paint and the Phase Blades across their backs marked them as Jandii. I froze. Jandii powersuits were faster than ours and produced a smaller heat signature but had trouble seeing stationary lifesigns. Very slowly I brought my rifle up and sighted at the rear suit. I could only hope to disable their targeting systems and make a break for it. I needed more firepower to down the half ton combat armors. The 7' powersuits could take beatings that soldiers of previous ages could only dream of. Quietly I clicked off the safety off my gun and was blinded by the sudden explosion. When my vision returned the bushes were on fire and a crater replaced 15 meters worth of battlefield. Powersuits, gone. Hovertank, gone. The guy that lent me his boots, gone.

I continued to search for clothes and any friendlies. I was beginning to believe that the Jandii had won the battle and I needed to find shelter before full dark. Flesh Seekers are drawn to blood and I was having my period.

Perr'rfec't, those Dragba managed to trick us to fight on their terms. The plane they Call Wan'darh'ven was obviously of their choosing.

So now the war has officially begun, no more sneaking denying that this war does not exist. The only good thing that came out of this timing was that we do not need to appease the mass's to agree to a war with the soft fleshy slow moving uncivilized Dragba...BHTAA!

Tal'Da (Sargent)! status report; how many did we loose and did we actually loose this battle? I want all data transferred to my brainpal.

We were ambushed on the most hostile planet in this side of known space. They chose the battle grounds wisely. No advantage on either side except that the native hostiles have learned to hate us and enjoy our flesh.

Casualties were high; 100. We have conquered worlds with less. The Dragba lost 968 along with a capital ship. Our base is barley occupied. I need to make sure my landing party reclaims what is left of our defenses before night fall. Those fools destroyed the the space port and the only safe landing zone for me is 3 miles from our destination.

The Sla'ghdaa (High Councel) demanded that we reclaim what was lost and rebuild before my offensive. That damb political machine only cares about public opinion.

One hour before we enter the atmosphere.

Harbingers gear UP! we have a war to win.

I could only see half the world through my fucking visor. Half the fucking world! That last fight might have been the worse scrap I'd ever had the misfortune to spill blood in. That Corporal Hatcher is one dumb sonofabitch, I can tell you that much. I was in the middle of things, in the fray so I can't say I have all the relevant data, as the commanders call it, but I know what I saw and I know that who ever planned it was a dumb sonofabitch.

My unit, the 23rd Powersuit Infantry Battalion, and the 60th had all but been desimated by those jandii bastards at the start of this fuckup. We had regroupped and were rearming ith anything we could scavange when command issued an order for us to hoof it north a few clicks and apply pressure to the enemy dug in up there. The Seargent, an old work horse from the old two three named Herbert, led us at a grinding pace and positioned the twenty of us on a ledge above those unlucky bastards. My suit vibrated with my excitement, they sucker punched us when we weren't ready but not this time. Not only were we ready I was eager to get a little revenge for my friends they slagged.

When Herbert gave the signal I was the first down there, rifle blazing like a spittin' rattler. Two of the poor sonsabitches were down before I noticed how serious this fuck up was. And it was serious and fucked up. The markings on the powersuit in front of me said that the bastard I'd emptied my magazine into was from the 210, recon and logistics. I called for a ceasefire at the same time that the sarge did. But the damage had already been done, we mowed down our own people. As if things weren't bad enough. Herbert was on the horn calling for medical assistance and insisting that he speak to Corporal Dumbfuck when he was blown away in a cloud of glass, bone and heated plasma. Our little ambush had turned into a Jandii massacre.

I grabbed two of the recon boys, in their little light armored suits, and tossed them out of the line of fire. I yelled out the old two three battle cry and started firing at the bastards as they came leaping and loping through the trees. The scream of my rifle was joined by his brothers and sisters and together they made the Jandii pay for every step that they took. My HUD said there were dozens of them dead and more kept coming. I primed a grenade and lobbed it into the approaching horde and was greeted by the bright bang and flash that followed. I could see some of the others advancing and I took a moment to change clips. Three clips, 50 rounds each. It was more than enough to kill me some Jandii bastards. All I could think of was a hot shower back at the base and maybe getting me a head as a souvenir. Someone screamed grenade and I instinctively dove for cover. The ensuing wave of heat cut our skirmish line in half.

I could see that one of them recon boys was down and never getting back up, the other must have lost powersuit functions because he had climbed out and was cowering with pistol in hand. Couldn't blame the coward for hiding. His pistol might stop a charging powersuit, if he put enough rounds into it, but not before one of those Jandii rounds incinerated his ass. He looked at me and I nodded to him. I loaded my clip and turned in time to see the bastard leap around the corner. The humming of the sonofabitch's phase blade shook the inside of my helmet as it scraped the right side of my visor. He didn't get through my helmet but he shaved millimeters off. I kicked outward and fired twice. He seemed unfazed and rushed me bringing his blade up for a kill. I raised my arm up in defense and blocked as best that I could, but I couldn't through my fucking visor.

High Ground...that's all I could think about as I tread the outskirts of the battlefield. Bodies of both Human and Jandii littered the area; I rested for a second behind the husk of a Federation Power suit. Fuck these Jandii bastards and fuck my luck, half naked, on my period and damn near defenseless. But ill be damn if I die this way, not before I get to back to Stark, and not before I get payback for my regiment. To the north combat rained like April showers, if I was smart Id head to the south, my chances for survival increased but not by much. I decided to head North Id rather go down fighting then scared waiting for the end.

I stayed low and tried to conceal myself from any Exterminators, Jandii Patrollers who would scour the battlefield for any Federation survivors and finish the job the First wave had started. My rifle had 4 shots left, not enough to spray but enough to crack the visor of one of those bastards wide open if they tried and exterminate me. I looked to the sky, the second moon was setting I had about 40 minutes to move 2 clicks before night would fall upon the battlefield. I moved faster and came upon another battle grave. Jandii soldiers this time, and one unfortunate ally Power suit. He went down fighting to the end even though he was out numbered. I counted the Jandii bodies he took with him, 1...2....3... The forth power suit had no pilot, he was mis-- I drop down and began rolling as energy pistol rounds chased me into cover. Fuck...FUck...FUCk!!! Slag it all, a goddamn Jandii survivor, with more ammunition than me no less. I listen to him batter the cover I hid behind, his assault was endless. FUCking energy pistols, they could go for hours until they overheated.

Fuck my luck, I was half naked, bleeding, and pinned down by a Jandii, at least it couldn't get any worse, i thought to myself. The curdling screech of a blood seeker flawed my rock bottom theory once again, as I fell another level closer to my death. Its tentacles flawed as it stood on top of one of the empty power suit shells. Red and black scales covered its feline like body. This one had came out before nightfall, all the blood in the air must have roused it early from its slumber . Nonetheless It was big it was ugly and it was coming right for me and i needed to act quickly, or else id be breakfast.

Jandii ahead and Blood seeker to my back I did what any self respecting soldier of the Federation army would do... I said fuck it all and ran straight for the bastard shooting at me with the pistol. If I was going to die I would take him out before the seeker got the best of me. My desperate charge either took him unawares, or the Seeker biting at my heels scared the ever living shit out him because his aim was wide and he missed me completely. He stopped to reload just in time for me to vault over him and his cover.

I must have been more spooked then I realized because I kept running even after cleared the Jandii survivor. He missed me but the seeker didn’t miss him I heard the crunch of bones breaking as seeker massive weight pounced on the Jandii. Better him than me, I thought to myself as I sprinted northward. When I finally stopped half exhausted, I could still hear his screams in the distance. Seekers don’t kill you right away they keep you alive until the very end so that the heart keeps the blood pumping, it’s a long agonizing death. Nobody deserves to die that way, not even a Jandii, I turned put his Head in my sights and fired... 3 shots left, I reminded myself. I Looked up to the sky and wondered if i would ever see my little boy again, I was still alone, still half naked, still bleeding and night had fallen...

I awoke tied to the walls with lifestyr chain hanging by my wrist, and having my feet bound. Several other bodies in a similar fashion lay decorated around me, but faces cannot be seen in this dark room. The Lifestyr chains emit a small glow depending on how healthy the host is, the less healthy the person the stronger the glow. I can barely see the others, and I barely remember what happened. I tried to move, but a sharp pain under my pits warned me otherwise. “is someone else alive” is what I heard from the opposite side of the room.

I opened my mouth to speak, but dry cough devoured my words and caused my lips to crack even further. “I am Sergeant Henry s. Silverstein of the eighth platoon, my men was to lead an ambush of the… “His voice sounded horse, and the same cough consumed him. I heard a loud splat and then silence as his chains grew bright and I could see his face clearly. The illumination in this twenty by twenty room, became a lot clearer. These were the faces of low ranking officers, who had been sent on mission “Caremark”. Our goal was to ambush the remaining enemy and gather the important medical supplies at the facility.

We were ambushed instead all of our info was incorrect and we paid the price for it. The real questions are why we are alive. As the thought crossed my mind a creature I have never seen before moved itself toward the sergeant and inspected the chains and it’s captive. Made a weird noise as it shoved a part of itself into the sergeant’s mouth. The seargents body shook violently even though he died with his final words being who he was. The glow of the lifestyr dimmed and he broke the chains that held him. Just for a moment his eyes carried a hellfire illumination before he walked out of the room. The creature made a slow crawl over to my body when ….

“Brothers and sisters of The Sla’ghdaa I come before you to speak of a heinous crime that has hither to been ignored by your ears and refused by your mouths. Yes, I dare such insult within The Sla,Hshoon. Do you dare less when you allow our people slaughtered? Are these groans of discontent because you do not believe the reports, you refuse by your eyes to see what is right before you? Or is it that we no longer believe frontier colonist to be Of The Chosen? Yes, again I dare such insult. I assault your pride as your inaction assaults mine!”

Rohma’Ka looked aware from the projector that would broadcast his image and words across the worlds Of The Chosen in real time. Around him the ship was in shambles. The initial attack was flawless and left many of the Dragba ships floundering uselessly in vacuum but Ka had been too eager and his captains too hungry for swift valor and when the Dragba counter attacked many crews were already falling planetside to join the surface battle. Four cruisers and a destroyer obliterated. His capital ship was on its last legs, he would need to abandon ship soon or perish when it systems finally failed.

Yet he stood calmly on his bridge and sent a live broadcast to The Sla’ghdaa. He called for an emergency Sla’Hshoon and with his battle group faltering around him he addressed the Jandii council. He grit his teeth and turned back to the projector which represented hundreds of eyes watching him form scores of worlds.

“My father, Rohma’Ung, once told me a story. It was a tale we all tell to our young of a boy soon to be of warrior age lost on the jungle. He came upon a jelly hive and starved he set to the task of steeling the jelly from the hive stingers. We all know the tale. It took the boy two nights and after being severely poisoned by the stingers he was able to get the jelly. He later died from his wounds. My father would always impart the lesson of that story to me afterwards. ‘Always push to claim what is yours, never quit, never fear. Victory will be yours.’ We have built our society upon these tenants and have grown strong!” Ka gave his words time to sink in. Many growled their assent some even gave him the honor of cutting their palms, showing him that their blood runs with him. Many of the fools had already forgotten or forgiven his harsh words spoken in sacred council.

“We have grown strong, and stupid! Say what you will of me and what I dare but look at us. The greatest empire the universe has ever seen and yet we have forgotten our most basic teachings. That youth, not quite of warrior age, would never seen his first combat, never kill his first enemy in single duel. Why? I will tell you why, because he did not respect the danger of the hive stinger. We teach ‘never quit, and never fear’. Why do we no longer teach ‘be cautious of our enemies no matter how small’? Because we have grown cocky. We ignore the hoomaans, calling them lowly Dragba to be scraped off of our shoes. We laugh at their threats and refuse with eyes, ears and mouths the simple truth. The hoomaans are small and weak, barely a challenge for our children in unarmed combat. But they are plentiful and cunning.

“I stand in the proof, an entire battle group ambushed. Hundreds dead because The Sla’ghdaa refuse to acknowledge what our young are taught every day. Even the smallest creature can kill. Our empire is that boy just shy of maturity and the hoomaans are guarding their jelly with their poisoned stingers. If The Sla’ghdaa does not take action we will perish slow and bloated with our bellies full. You have tied the fleets hands. Cut the bonds; allow us to deal with this hive before its sting destroys us all!”

At the predetermined signal Rohma’Ka’s adjutant cut the transmission. The admiral snarled and marched to his command chair. He waited the space of ten heart beats and finally allowed the release of the laughter that had been building from the moment he led his forces to Wan'darh'ven. The Sla’ghdaa had grown soft in their old age and soon would be replaced by younger and more eager elders. Those that were not prepared would perish, as was their way, but not Rohma’Ka. Not the warlord that led the pogrom against the Dragba. He only needed the council’s permission and they were too cautious to fearful. It took nearly all of his family’s vast resources to ensure that the hoomaan’s attempts at peace talks never reached those Sla’ghdaa that would listen and now his great battle group would fall to the ’treachery’ of the Dragba. By his hand war had finally come and his seat on The Sla’ghdaa protected.

He rose from his chair and gave the signal. Even as he reached the escape pod the capital ship began to fall apart from the inside. He refused with his ears and eyes to acknowledge those crewmen still stuck on the doomed vessel. Every war needed its casualties.