War Torrent, Page 3

  Krajenar didn’t even consider mocking her father’s placement of the moon of her birth on equal footing with their family name. Such thoughts were common among the older Angorgals, especially those with heritages such as theirs. In truth, Krajenar felt none of that family fealty. Well, perhaps some, but not to such depths.

  Instead, she felt the sharp sting of fear at the shredding of her own professional reputation. Since her age of service arrived, she had spent her entire adult life building that reputation, shepherding it, managing it, and even burying the things that would dare tarnish it. She feared its loss more than anything. But now, enemy fire and defeat threatened to scorch it into ashes if her father was right.

  “I’ll go,” Krajenar said.

  Garakus leaned into the vidcomm, presenting an even more imposing image than before. “Do not fail, Kraj—”

  In unison with another distant clap of thunder, the vidcomm’s connection ceased. Garakus had not severed it. Something broke it. Krajenar stepped to a window that faced north. She dimmed the tint and revealed a clear view past the city center toward the distant mines and forests of Ei’veth. Black smoke columns billowed into clear skies.

  Real danger was closer than ever before.

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  In the dense woods of the sacred Ei’veth Forest, a good distance north of the Mokisiaan capital, doubt sustained its unrelenting feast on the courage and faith of Private First Class Zyvolz K’olt. He knelt and prayed.

  For a Kal’iveth-in-training, this ritual was nothing new. A soldier-priest—a Kal’iveth—drew divine strength and guidance through prayer; strength to defend Ei’veth as a soldier; and guidance to interpret prophecy and to teach the ways of Nihav as a priest.

  And so, Zy asked Nihav to bless him with the strength to rise above his weaknesses. He was sure Nihav had grown tired of his innumerable recent intrusions, but he persisted. After all, he stood at the early stages of a new spiritual path in life, and many held high expectations of him. In the face of countless fears and doubts, however, Zy just didn’t know what to expect of himself. So, he continued to pray.

  Only a handful of months ago, Zy’s biggest concerns had revolved around chasing decent school grades and not-so-decent females. Then, he had experienced the mysterious morning that included a frightful encounter with a Sekkalan monster in the highlands above his home. Turned out the Sekkalan had occupied a covert listening post.

  Rescued at the last moment by Mokisiaan troops, a dazed Zy was welcomed home by relieved parents and neighbors. Within a few days, his life resumed, and so did his dreams—nightly visions of him as a Kal’ievth leading epic battles against evil forces.

  Zy resisted telling his parents about the dreams at first. But they persisted and grew more intense. One night, he shouted in his sleep, alerting his parents and drawing them to his room, where they awakened him.

  Unable to keep the secret to himself any longer, Zy described the voices and visions to his concerned mom and dad. As devoted adherents to Nihavinity, they understood the implications of the nocturnal prophecies and their obligations as parents.

  They were overjoyed.

  Zy, on the other hand, had never pondered a religious calling, and worried that this all could be a mistake. A Kal’iveth?

  He soon complied with Mokisiaan law, which required any child born within Ei’veth’s borders who experienced such visions to complete priesthood aptitude tests. It was an accepted requirement within Ei’veth culture. Nihavinity’s ancient laws and texts originated in the Forest and all members of its priesthood since then originated there as well. For the testing days, Zy’s parents had dressed him in a knee-length vest of feathered bat leather, which he wore over a blue—like the cobalt color of his eyes—jumpsuit that his mother had tapered at the waist under a wide gold belt. They were very proud of him.

  A strong military service component also existed in the priesthood. The Mokisiaan religious journey from an animistic-based polytheism to monotheism had not succeeded with words alone.

  In their earliest days, the priests had led battles with inspiration from prophecy and Holy Scripture, and enforced their visions and words with sword and shield. Over time, even as technology progressed and priests had armed themselves with more advanced weapons, they continued to carry swords and shields out of respect for the early priests who brought unifying salvation to Mokisia.

  Another unique moment in the history of the Ei’veth Forest included the discovery of the ultra-rare and unusual mineral, kojan tyk. This turning point occurred once the priests had gained control over the Forest. Then, a divine prophecy led them to the mineral. The priests employed only the most-trusted miners and metalworkers to unearth it and to meld it into the surfaces of swords and shields. A mineral given by Nihav to His soldier-priests, kojan tyk both deflected and absorbed energy from other weapons, a magical quality that even worked against modern weapons.

  To this day, the Kal’iveth oversaw the secret mining of kojan tyk in the Ei’veth Forest, the only place known for its existence. Rumors persisted about unused stockpiles harvested and set aside over the last two thousand years. Local lore developed into almost doctrinal prophecy that Nihav’s followers would need the stockpile in a doomsday war against hellish evil that would span the galaxy.

  Because its deflective and absorptive qualities also offered protection against modern-day energy weapons, the armor, shields, and swords carried by soldier-priests were still plated with the mystical ingredient. Hand-selected metallurgists and scientists have reportedly continued experimentation in clandestine labs to find the best blend of contemporary prosaic materials and kojan tyk to increase defensive effectiveness.

  And from out of that history grew the customs of the soldier-priest occupation in which Zy now found himself employed. Unsure why or how, Zy tested well on paper for this profession. Although he had shown some promise to date in limited field training—both religious and military—real experience in battle was something he had yet to face, but it was coming soon. Zy recognized all too well that no measure of faith in Nihav or the high hopes of others could guarantee the outcome of that particular test.

  “Amen.”

  Zy opened his eyes. Variations of green surrounded cobalt orbs. His body armor, shield, and uniform—camouflaged in multiple shades of green—and his natural dusky green skin made him melt into his surroundings. Except for occasional blinking blues, nothing gave away his presence.

  The seclusion of the immense forest offered immeasurable opportunity for soulful reflection, something he had always taken for granted until recently. A moment of appreciation for it dissipated when a mounting fury propagated through the trees. Birds beat their wings in a frantic escape between the pines. The sound of a rising vengeance approached.

  Zy tucked and rolled, wedging himself between two large rocks. He squeezed in tight, and then tighter and tighter. The scent of pine needles filled his nostrils. Hands over his head and ears, he shut his eyes. The fiery heat of rockets screamed overhead. Vibrations trembled through his body, fear accompanying every surging wave. Death was surely upon him. The blasts persisted, pushing down on him, harder, squeezing him tighter.

  Even more weight collapsed onto Zy. Then the heaviness grabbed him by the shoulders. This is it, I’m dead. He fought back the tears and the lump in his throat.

  A voice, distant but close at the same time, rose in his ears.

  What?

  More shouting, even closer, over the sound of the rockets. “ZY! ROLL OVER!”

  The shaking Kal’iveth felt the weight lift off his back. He opened his eyes and wiggled himself onto his side. He found his team leader, Corporal Styyuk “Yuk” Galavak, staring him in the face.

  Yuk said something, but Zy failed to understand. The booming noise from above continued. Instead, the corporal just pointed upward and Zy complied.

  Through the branches, beyond the top of the tall pine trees, Zy glimpsed troop transports zooming overhead. Sekkalan crooked cross insignia emblaz
oned their underbellies. They traveled from the direction of the capital city and appeared to head for a landing area a short distance away. The dropships—their side doors open, revealing compartments void of troops—and their insignia were familiar to Zy. He recognized them from his dreams.

  The transports traversed the area after a few minutes, but the deafening sound of their in-atmosphere rocket thrusters persisted inside the heads of Zy and Yuk.

  When this passed enough for them to speak to each other, Yuk leaned forward and put his hand on Zy’s shoulder. “Where are you injured?”

  Confused, Zy said, “Uh…”

  “When the ships approached, I saw you go down. I hurried over here because I thought they wounded you.”

  “Oh, uh…” Zy peered at the ground. He pointed, “No I lost my footing and fell kind of hard, got wedged in between those rocks pretty good.”

  Yuk lowered his head. “Hmm. I see. Yes, that ground there does have an odd slope to it.”

  “Thanks for looking after me.”

  “That’s my job, Zy. Glad to do it.”

  Recalling the familiar ships that had just flown overhead, Zy looked up at Yuk and, like a younger brother seeking out the advice of an older brother, said, “Where does evil come from?”

  Although also born and raised in the Ei’veth Forest, assessments indicated that Yuk didn’t possess any spiritual leadership potential. And for that, he qualified as a regular soldier in the Forest’s Ranger Regiment. Most troops in the unit held that status but military and religious authorities integrated the regiment centuries ago. Soldiers such as Yuk even held leadership positions up to including those in the highest command levels.

  “I don’t know if I’m qualified to answer that question,” Yuk said. “Why do you ask, especially right now?”

  “You must have some opinion, and because we are in a fight against evil,” Zy said, insistent.

  Yuk’s eyes bulged. “Soldier, we are in a fight against Sekkalan invaders!”

  “But brother, don’t you see? Invaders from Hell itself. They swarm down upon us from space, as if thrown down like rocks by devils in the sky.” Zy gazed overhead and raised his arms.

  “C’mon Zy, is that what you really believe, or are you just saying that? And put your arms down before they get shot off.”

  Zy lowered his arms. “Yuk…I don’t know. How can I fight as a Kal’iveth if I don’t know?”

  “Ahh, and until you know, you’ll keep ‘losing your footing’ and end up wedged between some rocks somewhere or worse.”

  Zy nodded.

  “Hmm.” Yuk looked around. Other rangers of the Ei’veth Forest Regiment emerged from cover and headed upslope toward where the drop ships had flown. “Look, I only worship when I have to, so I’m no expert. What I do know is tactics. And tactics involve choices. Some choices I make, other choices are made elsewhere and at different levels. We will fight the Sekkalan with the moves that we make and, with any luck, these moves and others will be coordinated by higher authorities and, together, we will overwhelm them…”

  “With any luck?”

  “Yes, Kal’iveth, only you might call it divine guidance. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because for me, it is all a matter of trust.”

  “Or faith?”

  “Now you’re getting it. And true faith begins with doubt. Trust begins with uncertainty. And, if you must know what I believe, true evil doesn’t come from the sky. It can come from anywhere, but only thrives when those who face it do nothing to stop it.”

  After several quiet seconds both soldiers broke out into smiles.

  “That’s all you got?” Zy said, and winked a blue eye at his Corporal.

  “It’s kept me out of trouble so far. For the most part anyway. Now, speaking of evil, what do you say we gather up a few more troops and see if we can recon where those Sekkalan drop ships may have put down? I feel the need to blow up something.”

  Chapter 4

  Too Quick To Judge

  Major Krajenar Attazahal held no shortage of pride. Her self-importance had defined most of her existence. Yet, today, she trembled with unfamiliar fear while briefing the senior military officers and high-ranking civilian executives in the room. They attended the briefing to find out why failure overwhelmed them and what would achieve a recovery.

  Krajenar stood and briefed from her place at a large black conference table. She attempted to conceal her distress by focusing on an insignificant scuff in the white wall across from her.

  Continuing, she said, “Based on the radio transmissions from our reconnaissance force, we now estimate the bridge’s dark ink effect was perhaps due to a combination of open expanse of space and the lack of atmosphere on the asteroid. It is well known that quantum bridge facades don’t display manmade structures. Instead, they create a temporal ‘smear’ which combines several decades of the past and, as some believe, potentially future time. This causes the distorted ‘painted’ effect we are familiar with, and this is why we cannot simply look at the ink to see exactly what is on the other side.”

  The small scrape on the white wall transformed into a spinning whirlpool. Now dizzy, Krajenar leaned forward and braced herself on the table. She shook her head, blinked, and took a deep breath. Looking down the length of the table, she did not see a receptive, supportive face to focus on. Except for the hissed breaths of the gathered leaders, the room remained silent.

  Stable again for the moment, she said, “This is why we had dispatched the recon probes. Limited data from the probes identified structures, suggesting an urban environment on Sekkalan.”

  A senior military participant in the meeting leaned in and snorted with displeasure. He wore the bright-red uniform of a High-General and had the coloring of an aristocratic family every bit as important as Krajenar’s. “Our enemies fooled your probes and you.”

  With knees locked and fists planted on the table for support, Krajenar pivoted toward the officer and said, “High-General Z’Vorta, my staff has and continues to reanalyze the imagery the recon drones captured. They now report seeing patterns un-deciphered before. Previously, there had been no indicators to suggest the Sekkalans had developed space flight vessels. A paradigm shift of unimagined proportions has obviously occurred in conjunction with significant deception.”

  Under-General Drazir, the superior for the entire Mokisiaan military intelligence service, spoke up. “This was simply nothing anyone ever considered plausible.” He had every reason to defend his subordinate. If Krajenar and her team had developed the failed intelligence assessment used by operational forces in the attack, then Drazir had signed off on it under his authority. “The Sekkalan Angorgals have always been the most cloistered of our species, having withdrawn so long ago, but they always had the same access to the bridges as the rest of us if they so desired. When you can step from one moon to another, why build conventional spacecraft like this and risk creeping across the expansive and dangerous vacuum of space? This was exactly why we gave up our own spacecraft once a quantum bridge network was in place.”

  High-General Z’Vorta snorted his dissatisfaction and then said, “But these Sekkalans have always proven themselves different. They have obviously diverged from traditions in unspeakable ways. Perhaps expansionistic cravings drove them to develop a war fleet that would extend their grasp beyond Sceytera until they could build bridges elsewhere.”

  “This would have taken centuries of technological development and manufacturing,” Under-General Drazir said. “This was simply too alien to consider with the intelligence at hand.”

  Krajenar felt grateful for the strong support from her superior. Capitalizing on the momentum, she said, “Which leads us to our current situation. The Sekkalans did indeed develop their space faring technology. It is clear they have also developed significant offensive assets on their vessels. Based on losing communication with the other moons, we should assume their war fleet has assumed positions around them all, but most importantly, around our own for certain
. The ships are attempting to intercept and eradicate our comm satellites and gain control of our orbital space. Fortunately, our ground-based array of anti-asteroid weapon systems has offered an effective defense. These systems have also been effective against incoming troop transports and missile barrages.”

  High-General Z’Vorta’s irritation rumbled up from his throat. “Yet the Sekkalans are landing troops at key locations and gaining ground supremacy. What over confidence or lack of imagination has doomed us all to Hell?”

  A rising pain in Krajenar’s chest forced the words out of her mouth. “We now assess with high confidence the Sekkalans have developed the ability to create temporary exit points outside of established bridge pathways. Another radical, incomprehensible advancement the Sekkalans have developed in the time since we last saw them.”

  “Except now,” High-General Z’Vorta said, “they are beating us using this incomprehensible tactic, Major Attazahal. I think it is time we stop using words like ‘incomprehensible.’ You hold your position specifically to comprehend what the enemy is thinking, do you not?”

  Krajenar’s knees buckled. She swallowed hard and nearly choked out a cough.

  Mid-General of Offensive Operations, Nefav Hoekoloth, now inserted herself into the conversation with a sharp but conciliatory tone. “Fear not, Major Attazahal. If we intended to remove you, you would not be in this room. Your team has performed in an exemplary fashion as Mokisia successfully pressed its rights to Esmeria. Simply put, we don’t have time to read anyone else into your position. We need to get into the headspace of this enemy. They are Angorgal. These are not aliens. So, we must know something of them.”

  Z’Vorta was not so quick to let Krajenar off the hook. “I recall the capture of a Sekkalan soldier a number of months ago. An electronic eavesdropper on our capital city. You were in charge of the analysis, were you not?”

  Krajenar braced herself. “Yes, sir. At the time, we were uncertain what his collection priorities targeted. I would say now that he was trying to identify military weak points that could be exploited by Sekkalan landing forces inserted by way of temporary bridge exit points.”