Reunion
NEG
Military Headquarters, 2385
“Major
Kalansky, good of you to come at such short notice,” Samantha
Ardent said as she greeted the military officer to her office.
Kalansky shook her hand then took a seat opposite her.
“Well,
when the NEG Intelligence Division asks you to come and see them
generally it’s not a negotiable situation.” Kalansky replied,
failing to contain her lack of enthusiasm for the impromptu meeting.
“I’ll
get straight to business,” Ardent said, picking up a small e-pad
and activating it. The blinds drew across the window and a small
screen appeared on the wall at the far right side of the office. The
room lit up as the screen came to life. Kalansky recognised the
display as being a map. “We picked up something coming down just
outside Juneau last night. Initial intelligence indicates that it’s
possibly a Mi-Go landing craft, however the weather has limited our
ability to confirm that.”
“Okay.”
Kalansky replied as she began to make herself familiar with the
topography of the area. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“We’re
sending your unit in to confirm our suspicions.” Ardent said. “If
our intelligence turns out to be accurate then you are to report back
and await further instructions.”
“We’re
due shore leave.” Kalansky replied. “We’re been on active duty
for eight months straight now and…”
“I’m
fully aware of the status of your unit,” Ardent interrupted.
“However, this operation has been flagged as top priority by NEG
Intelligence and I have complete authority over this potential
engagement, hence the reason I requested your involvement. Your
dropship is scheduled to leave in two hours.”
****
Kalansky
gritted her teeth – she hated it when the spooks took charge over
the military; something
always went wrong on jobs like that.
As she made her way along the cold steel hallway in the pilot’s
quarters towards the locker room she heard a door open behind her.
“Major
Kalansky,” She turned – and saw the figure of Major Anthony
Wright hanging out of the door of his quarters. His hair was shorter
than the last time she’d seen him and she could see the grey flecks
at the sides. His brown eyes stood out against his pale skin - he was
three years older than her and at thirty-four was one of the longest
serving officers in the NEG Mech Unit. “May I have a word with
you?”
“Of
course Major Wright,” Kalansky responded. “I’ll be right with
you.”
****
Kalansky
slumped on top of Wright’s body – her skin tingled as he held her
in his arms. There was barely enough room in the standard issue
military bunk for them to lie side by side, yet after a few minutes
of being in his arms she managed to slide off him and rest against
him, looking at his face.
Publicly
these two high-ranking officers were seen as the leading faces of the
NEG recruitment campaign for Mech pilots. Kalansky and her Reapers
were often portrayed as being in competition with Wright and his unit
– called The Wreckers – to see who accumulated the highest body
count wherever they were deployed. Privately they had become an item
a year ago following the outcome of a particularly disastrous mission
where the remnants of both units had been left to hold one of the
Martian colonies for a week against a Mi-Go strike fleet until
reinforcements arrived.
“I
thought that The Wreckers were in Iceland dealing with an outbreak of
the Esoteric Order of Dagon?” Kalansky said. Wright shrugged.
“We
were – up to six hours ago.” He said. “We’re heading back out
there tomorrow morning once we’ve fixed the Mechs – I blew out
the control servos on my Broadsword.”
“You’re
still using that? I thought you were going to switch over to the new
Gladius mech?” Kalansky commented on his current choice.
“I
tried it – it just didn’t feel right.” Wright said, catching a
glimpse of the clock in the corner of his eye.
“Do
those EOD Mechs still make that boing
sound
when then jump?” She asked. Wright laughed.
“Yeah,
they sound like some Saturday morning kids cartoon.” He kissed her
forehead, pulling her close to him. “When do you ship out?”
“Under
an hour.” Kalansky said, untangling herself from his arms and
sitting up. “Will you still be here when I get back later?”
“As
long as it’s before oh-six hundred.”
“Should
be,” Kalansky replied. “This is just some clean up job for NEG
Intelligence.” Wright snorted, shaking his head at her assignment.
“Sure
– I’ll still be here.” Wright replied. Without another word
Kalansky kissed him, got dressed and left his room.
****
When
Kalansky entered the locker room she found herself confronted with
five familiar faces.
The
Reapers were one of many small Counter Attack Units that had been
formed out of a sense of urgency – following the initial stages of
the war it had become clear that NEG tactics when it came to dealing
with Mi-Go armour was greatly disadvantaged. Dealing with an opponent
that could very likely be part of a greater hive-mind meant that many
NEG outposts on the outer rim had been overwhelmed within days before
reinforcements could reach them.
The
small CAUs as they were known as were relatively autonomous, not
dependent upon any direct command structure to guide their actions
other than an initial briefing. Just
point and click – let us deal with the details, Kalansky
recalled her comments to their new CO back at NEG Central Command on
the first time they had met three years ago.
Over
the years the roster of The Reapers had changed, however there was
one constant amongst them – Andrea Kalansky. Whenever she needed
someone to fill out a spot on the team, Kalansky would personally
choose the candidate from the Academy. Provided
that smart ass Wright hadn’t swept in and grabbed them first for
his precious Wreckers.
“Okay
people,” Kalansky said to the assembled group. “We have one more
job to do before we get to spend some time back home.”
“Yeah,
we’ve seen the orders,” Gates said. “And it looks like some
bullshit bug hunt.”
“Indeed,”
Kalansky answered. “However, there’s no reason why anything
should get fucked up as long as we’re careful and we do our job
properly.” She looked at them. “Braberman, I want you in the
Scimitar covering our asses; Gates and Ichikama – you’re taking
the Rapiers; McEvers, you’ve got the Saber and Dasomy, you’re in
the Eclipse.”
“I
need an hour to fix the stealth camouflage on the Saber,” Hitomi
Ichikama said. Kalansky knew that she was exaggerating how long it
would take to complete the repairs.
“You’ve got thirty minutes
Hitomi,” She replied. There was a groan from the assembled group.
“Okay people, let’s get into our flight suits and get ready to
go; the sooner were done, the sooner we’re home.”
****
Stealth is a relative concept when
you’re encased inside a twenty-six feet tall walking tank. At
least, that’s how I’ve always viewed it, Kalansky thought as
they moved through the desolate outskirts of the town known as
Ketchington, some thirty miles north of Juneau. Each mechanical
walker was equipped with both electronic and optical camouflage
systems, although everyone in the NEG knew that the optical
camouflage was still somewhat twitchy when applied to the larger
mechs. It burned up power like a bitch and caused them to overheat –
so it was used sparingly.
The ground underfoot was brittle –
crunching and breaking as they moved across it in their armoured
bodywork. There was nothing standing over five feet in height – all
the buildings in what had been a thriving local community had simply
vanished.
“Looks like this place was
glassed.” McEvers said over the open communications channel.
“Orbital bombardment?”
“More like a localized blast.”
Braberman said, towering over them all in his Scimitar. Kalansky
looked up at the vehicle that stood a further ten feet higher than
she did. The Scimitar had just one purpose in mind when it was
designed – devastation. It’s shoulders carried two missile pods
on them and one hand was replaced with a heavy beam cannon. The other
fist was somewhat oversized and capable of crushing another mech
within its grip. Kalansky knew that somewhere inside that behemoth,
Braberman had a huge smile on his face.
“Yeah – after all, you wouldn’t
want anyone to announce the fact that you’d arrived would you?”
Kalansky added. The Pacific Northwest had been a particularly
favourable place for the Mi-Go to attack, she thought, must be
something about the damp atmosphere seemed to suit their particular
physiology.
As she sat inside her Broadsword,
Kalansky spared a thought for the newest member of the Reapers –
the young Nazzadi woman known as Dasomy. As they waited for Ichikama
and Gates to return from their reconnaissance mission in their
smaller, stealth orientated Rapier models, Kalansky looked over at
the sleek and lethal looking Eclipse class model and thought about
the young woman inside it.
“Dasomy, you okay?” Despite her
relative newcomer status, Kalansky knew that Dasomy was usually a
chatty young woman and thought she had detected the spark of
something between her and Gates in their down time. Up to this point,
Dasomy hadn’t uttered a word, which was unusual.
“Yes…yes…I’m fine.” Dasomy
answered. “It’s just…the Mi-Go…” Kalansky could hear the
anger burning in her voice. Then again, I guess I’d be pretty
angry if someone else had grown my entire race as soldiers in clone
vats for a war I didn’t want to be involved in.
“It’s okay Dasomy, everyone is
nervous.” Braberman added. “It will all pass when…” Everyone
saw it inside his or her armoured cores. Two small blips appeared on
their scopes, advancing towards the ravine – and their target
location – that was several miles away from within the woods to the
east.
“Engage optical camouflage!”
Kalansky barked the order on impulse. “What are they Braberman?”
“Nazzadi.”
“NEG?” McEvers asked.
“Nope – they aren’t squealing
on the same frequency as NEG mechs should.” Braberman said.
“Shit – we have to assume they’re
hostile then...” Kalansky replied. Everyone heard the soft humming
noise – and in the blink of an eye, the Eclipse mech housing Dasomy
had taken off, heading in the direction of the two contacts.
“Dasomy!”
“Boss, I read two Whisper-class
mechs inbound.” Braberman said, feeding his commanding officer with
information. “She won’t stand a chance if…”
“You two stay here and wait for
Gates and Ichikama,” Kalansky barked, turning and powering off in
the direction Dasomy had taken. “I’ll go and get Dasomy before
she does something stupid.”
****
Except from New Earth Government
Intelligence report submitted January 10, 2365
…It is now clear that continuing
conflict with the Nazzadi will result in defeat for NEG forces and
ultimately surrender is projected as being the only viable option
before the end of the decade.
Recent developments from the NEG
Bio-Tech division have yielded a surprise result though. Doctor
Westbridge believes that the theories proposed in the third volume of
the Pryke documents (see Miskatonic University archive ref. 19042035)
concerning Mi-Go abductions and experimentation on human test
subjects during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries
may have been the genesis of the Nazzadi race.
Subsequent analysis of genetic
compatibility reveals that – excluding skin pigmentation genes
being wholly absent in Nazzadi DNA due to their unique ink-black
colouration and an artificially induced enzyme inhibitor present in
their diet – Human and Nazzadi genetic structure is one hundred
percent identical. Doctor Westbridge and her team assure me that,
statistically speaking, the odds of two races evolving on different
planets with identical genetic structures are nil.
In addition to this, interrogation
of subject zero one has illuminated an interesting aspect of Nazzadi
culture. The concept of murder is alien to the Nazzadi – they see
the killing of their own kind as barbaric, which explains their
tenacity when engaging with NEG forces. It would also appear to
indicate that the majority of the Nazzadi have no inclination of
their true heritage – they really do think they are from a planet
orbiting Alpha Centauri.
If we can utilise this cultural
concept in conjunction with the genetic results that we have
discovered, we may be able to turn the tide of the conflict against
the Nazzadi in our favour. We may even be able to negotiate a truce
on favourable terms with them, especially considering their technical
superiority.
Of course, that still leaves the
Mi-Go.
****
Dasomy’s heart burned with a
mixture of fear and anger; fear, because she knew she’d acted
without thinking, allowing her emotions to take over; anger, because
she knew she was about to encounter something that has been a matter
of public record and shame for the Nazzadi ever since they had been
accepted by their genetic brethren on Earth.
The humans referred to them as
“old-school”; the Nazzadi had a more succinct name for what she
was about to encounter – Race Traitors.
Despite the evidence that had been
presented to them by the NEG – and subsequently confirmed by
Nazzadi scientists – there were still some of her race that
believed what the High Council had initially told them.
The Grand Lie – that’s how the
Nazzadi referred to it. The myth that they had been a race exploited
and brutalised by humanity as slaves. Her mother and father had been
told that there was a great rebellion, forcing the humans from
Nazzadi Prime and back to their own system – and the High Council
had ordered the extinction of humanity from the cosmos.
Had they known it was all a lie to
begin with? And why support the Mi-Go in their genocidal desire to
wipe out humanity? Dasomy had often pondered that question. Once
they were presented with the evidence that there was no real
difference between Terran and Nazzadi they were then forced to
acknowledge the truth – they had been exploited and used. Some
Nazzadi remained loyal to the Mi-Go, refusing to acknowledge the
truth even when it was proven that there was no Nazzadi Prime
orbiting Alpha Centauri. Most switched sides within a week, pledging
to aid the NEG to repel the Mi-Go from the Sol system.
Those Nazzadi who denied the truth –
who retained their faith in their inhuman masters and swore blind
loyalty to them – were declared traitors and were to be executed on
sight. That the Nazzadi had been breaking the principle tenant of
their artificial culture at the behest of their creators was simply
another twist of the cultural knife they had been stabbed in the back
with.
And once they embraced their
genetic heritage, the Nazzadi took to murder like a duck to water
That’s how Major Kalansky had
described it to her. Her father once told her that there were depths
to which a Nazzadi should never sink to, yet Dasomy was about to take
that step.
And she was looking forward to it.
The first Whisper broke from the
trees and paused for a moment. The machine seemed to be sniffing the
air around it as its counterpart came into view. Both of the
constructs stood nearly twenty feet tall – giving them something of
a four-foot size advantage over Dasomy in her Eclipse. They were
basically biped in design, yet without a discernable “head” other
than a small protruding lump in the centre of the torso.
Each of them carried what looked like
an over-sized tube on their right arm that had a plethora of cables
running away to the rear of the machine. However she noticed that
these were much older machines of war, probably left over from the
first Aeon War between Man and Nazzadi.
This gave Dasomy the element of
surprise. She sprung free of the cover of the tree line, disengaging
her optical camouflage at the last second and slashing at the rear of
the nearest Whisper. She knew that with the camouflage engaged she
could defeat them easily, but she wanted the pilots to see who was
attacking them.
Her attack yielded success as she saw
plumes of white smoke billow out from severed pipes at the rear of
the mech. Its torso spun around, small blobs of super-heated plasma
spitting out of the cannon attached to its right arm.
The ground and the trees sizzled as
the blasts struck them exactly where Dasomy had landed after her
initial attack – yet she was already on the move before the pilot
had pulled the trigger. Her lithe, agile Eclipse was no match in a
straight fire fight with the heavier Whispers, yet she knew she could
dance rings around them with her superior manoeuvrability, something
she exploited to it’s fullest.
Her fist lashed out again at the
second Whisper, acid-edged claws tore through servos located in the
leg housing, severing them and effectively crippled the pilot’s
ability to move. Dasomy then ducked – just avoiding another plasma
blast from the first Whisper that succeeded only in destroying his
companions left arm. The force of the impact sent the twenty-foot
mechanised walker crashing to the ground.
She rolled across the muddy surface,
her mind and senses feeding off the adrenaline of the fight and
Dasomy felt alive in ways that she never did when encountering the
Mi-Go. Maybe it’s because they think like me? I can understand
what they feel right now, the fear, she thought as she raised her
right arm and activated the compressed rail gun within it. It took
her a moment to lock onto her target and fire, giving the first
Whisper no time to react to it.
The blasts smashed into the area she
knew housed the cockpit of the mech. It stood there for a moment,
wobbling unevenly on those thick steel legs, before it fell to the
ground face first. Dasomy stood upright, surveying the grounded mech
before her. Her sensors danced across the prone form – any life
signs were rapidly diminishing.
Her attention was suddenly drawn back
to the second Whisper by the sound of metal grinding against metal.
Dasomy turned – just in time to see the pilot aiming its heavier
plasma-based weapon towards her. She realised that she had just
seconds to react.
The rattling sound of the mini-gun
cut through Dasomy’s thoughts. The burst of gunfire ripped into the
cockpit compartment in the centre of the downed mech’s chest,
shredding metal and flesh with equal abandon. The right arm fell to
the floor, discharging into the ground.
“Never turn your back on them until
you’re sure they’re dead.” Kalansky’s voice came through
clearly over the comm-link. She stepped out of the trees, looking
down at both chewed up mechs. “Are you okay?”
“Yes…yes…I’m fine.” Dasomy
asked. “I’m sorry…”
“Forget it,” Kalansky cut her
off. “I understand; but if you ever do that again without my
permission I’ll personally tear out the heat sinks on your mech and
leave you to freeze to death inside it.” Dasomy nodded, grateful
for Kalansky’s tolerance of her behaviour. “Come on kid, we’ve
got some bugs to kill.”
