Chapter 10.
Invasion.
In a confrontation with an enemy many variations must be taken into account, the size and strength of the opposing army, its weaponry and supplies, but the main factor is the will to win, without that you have been defeated before you have begun.
From the observations of Ivar-Anoon, first General of the combined forces of the Mac-Mar Alliance.
High above the planet found on standard navigational charts as file number 11976UPO of the Gornogal section commonly known as Gorn a great fleet of warships hung like huge misshapen moons in the dark sky. This was the formidable battle fleet of the Mac-Mar Alliance, they were scarred from may wars and manned by veterans of the Calaban confrontation and the offensive against the Uraians so they were no soft recruits to warfare. They numbered in the thousands, each one carried a compliment of soldiers and weaponry capable of facing whatever enemy they might encounter, the larger ships could rain down death without laying a foot on whatever planet they wanted to destroy for the each carried a powerful armament called a “Grinder” this was a weapon that could rip up the surface like some gigantic plow turning everything upside down and smashing anything it came into contact with. And the Commander of the formidable army was a man that knew precisely when and how to use the massive power given to him.
General Ivar-Anoon sat in his command chair calmly looking over data screens and info readouts, he wore a standard uniform without any frills or insignias to denote him as a General, he made this decision many cycles ago when he saw his Commander taken down by a field sniper as he stood looking over the battle field, ever scene then he made it a point not to brand himself a target and relied on a simple emblem on his right shoulder and the fact that everyone knew his appearance.
“Is the fleet in position?” he asked not looking up.
“Almost” the man replied.
Ivar looked up and into the hard-edged face of his subordinate and second in command; his name was Captain Haus Rocon a capable but rather green bridge officer who got where he was because his father was a member of the inner counsel of the Alliance. “Almost?” Ivar asked, “Almost is not what I wanted to hear, what is the problem?” Captain Rocon cleared his throat and spoke, “Captain Romar of the landing ship seven nine one says that he will be in position in approximately seventeen-point eight time cycles due to a malfunction in his navigation program.”
Ivar-Anoon sat there for a moment or two staring into his readout screen, he knew that problems with navigation was inevitable when you came within the orbit of Gorn but he also knew that discipline must be enforced or he would appear to be weak and that was something that he could never tolerate no matter what it may cost him, “Have him report to me as soon as possible.” The commander returned to his info-screen and noticed some strange anomalies, “Observation, what are the locations on the planets orbiting moons”.
Gorn had five moons, Eubano, Ashsana, Italus, Eka, and the smallest Andra, they were the children of Gorn but to the general they were just obstacles in his way.
The Observation technicians scanned his readouts and spoke, “Obits of planetary moons seem to be slightly erratic commander, this may be caused by a number of influences but they will not be a problem to the overall invasion plan.”
Ivar doubled checked his console to make sure that the information was correct then turned to Rocon his second in command. “Ready all landers and support teams and alert my command center that I will be going down with the first wave.”
The Captain knew that it was against all his training at the Academy to allow the general to land on a hostile planet with the first installments but he also knew how Ivar the terrible got his name so he held his tongue, “At once Commander” he said.
The holding bay of the Alliance command ship was enormous, far greater than even the massive cargo holds of the planet hopping Markins, it held the Generals landing craft and several support carriers that would escort it to the surface, its design was based on the Dropships that were used by other to deposit unwanted cargo on Gorn but this one was armor plated and had several Blasters to defend itself from attack and the capability to lift off if needed. Inside were sleeping quarters for a large staff, a small medical center, communications and food preparation, everything needed for a headquarters, Ivar had used this same command centers in other campaigns and it always served him well.
Hundreds of soldiers were busy checking their survival packs and weapons, they came from all corners of the Outer Rim, Bolec’s, Youngonrie, Salocans, Hidraga, Upars and many more, all of them hard veterans of wars won and lost, some of them were Outcasts from their Homewords, driven out for some crime or because they did not follow the rules of their civilization, they found a life with the Alliance because they asked no questions and the spoils were good. And although they hailed from different worlds they all had one thing in common, they loved to fight, killing was in their blood be it red or blue, green or yellow, they were fighters, and they had learned to obey. That was a feat in itself for rules were not something they found pleasing, but the Alliance knew how to control them, they gave then rewards when they did as they were told and pain when they did not, two simple rules that worked very well. And Ivar was their Leader, and as he entered the hold the usual clamor died away and all turned to look at the man that would dole out pain and pleasure as he saw fit.
The General walked slowly to a gathering of supply containers and climbed atop them and looked out over his men, he liked what he saw, they are hungry for war he thought that is good, hungry men make good soldiers, he stood there for a time making sure that everyone could see him and the look in his eyes then when he decided the stage was right he spoke.
“Death!” he said calmly, “Death is a little thing, death is what small men fear, you are not small, you are soldiers of the Alliance, you are my warriors, and I say that death is afraid of us!”
And hearing those words the soldiers in the chamber let out a loud roar of approval, it shook the walls and went on for a long time, when at last it subsided Ivar spoke once more.
“Below is a planet that weak men fear, they say it holds terror for those who walk its land, they say that it can never be conquered, I say they lie, I say that world is ours for the taking, am I wrong?” Another great cheer rose up from the mass of soldiers then died away.
“Well what are you waiting for? Are you small men or are you great?”
Another cheer. “I promise you a great fight, a proud fight that you say talk about in the long cycles to come, and I also promise that you will share in the greatest treasure of the Outer Rim!”
Then with a roar of approval ringing in his ears Ivar-Anoon entered his command ship and walked to his control chair and as he did the soldiers that he passed stood arrow straight and lifted their hands in salutations to their leader, and when he sat down he looked around him.
Men are such strange creatures, he told himself, they will die for a promise. “Signal all transport ships, on my command they will launch and proceed to their separate coordinates.”
“Yes commander” was the reply from the bridge officer.
It was then that a squad of men entered the bridge and in the center of them was Captain Romar the commander of the ship that had problems with its navigations, Romar looked very nervous as he stood there waiting for acknowledgement from his leader. Ivar did not turn to look at the Captain, “Take him to my quarters and wait for further orders” he said, and obeying his orders they took Romar away, Ivar waited for a time then spoke, “I will be in my quarters, stand by launch until I return.” Then he stood up and left the bridge, he walked the short distance to his quarters and returning a salute from the two soldiers guarding the door he entered.
The room was sparsely decorated, a bed, table and two chairs, charts and a selection of unremarkable uniforms hanging from a metal rack, it was the room of an officers but far from a Commanders but that was the way Ivar wanted it. Standing at attention was Captain Romar and as he quickly saluted and
stiffened himself even further. The Captain was a well-made man with clean features and short dark hair, his eyes were also dark and there was a small scar on his left cheek that he got in a skirmish on Praxama 7, but he somehow looked out of place for his eyes held little warmth and gave the impression that he was somewhere else.
“Ease yourself” Ivar said then slowly moved to the small table and began looking at some report papers laying on it, “you were late in taking your place in formation.”
“Yes sir!” was the reply from the Captain. “Failure will not be tolerated.” “Yes sir!”
Ivar moved from the table and looked into the face of the Captain, “Do you have anything to say in your defense?” “No sir.” The Commander continued to stare into the unmoving face of the younger man, “When you were a boy I thought I had taught you order and discipline, I can see now that I failed.”
Hearing those words, the Captains face soften some, “You didn’t fail sir, I did.”
Ivar had trained himself to be a leader at all times, he always stood tall and took command of any room he entered; now as he stood before his son he forgot that training.
“I raised you as I saw fit, I tried to teach you that only the strong are worthy of living, the weak don’t matter.” Jon’s listened to the words of his father like he always did but they were words that he had heard a hundred times before. “Is that all there is, just the strong and nothing more?” the young man asked. “Would you rather be weak and be destroyed like so many others?”
Ivar had heard these questions from his son many times, he must learn that only the strong are worth caring for he thought, I must make him strong, the Commander stiffened himself once more, “After the landing you will report to punishment” he ordered.
The Captain saluted, “Yes sir!” then he turned and moved to the door, he stood there for a moment or two as if he wanted to say more, then the door slid open and he left the room, the door closed leaving only the father alone with his thoughts.
Failure will not be tolerated, he told his mind, the only problem was who had failed?
Sunfall found the Almadra still in the land of the Broga, after the attack by the little men they formed themselves into a defensive circle with the wagon of the Holy Mother at the center along and the precious Grana, this was ringed by the trusted Thungodra who would be the last defense of the High Priestess in case an enemy managed to penetrate that far. The Karracks of the Elders came next then the bulk of the tribe made up of Ironworkers, Weavers, Craftspeople and Frail-legs. Lastly were the Spikebacks and their Long-range weapons, the warriors made up the outer rim and there they would sit awake all night long guarding their tribe.
The massive trees that were being taken to the Western Sea stayed where they were but the Trofar that pulled them were taken to safety and well fed, after all who could take the mammoth trunks away, the Broga had no large Thundra’s and what would they do with such titanic trees? And there were no other tribes around and even if there were they would not dare anger the Alamdra least they start a war of clans that would only to lead many deaths on both sides.
Kuno the Captain of the Spikbacks made sure that the Long-range guns were loaded and the Disruptors ready to fire, if they were attacked they would be ready to spew out death to any and all intruders, and even though he consumed many tankards of Well-age Po it would not affect his judgment for his large body was more then used to the sour drink.
On the other hand Kalgar never drank alcohol of any kind, it was part of his oath as a Thungodra and although he sometimes envied those who could because as a youth he loved the taste of the fiery brew he knew that prayer to the Goddess should be enough. But now as he sat on large rock near the side of the Holy Wagon looking out over the fires of the camp he could not help but think back to his carefree childhood. He was the son of a great warrior, and his grandfather was also a protector of the tribe as was his father and his father before him, a long line of great warriors stretching back over the long cycles into the dim past. How many have died by my linage? He asked his mind, a thousand, ten thousand, more? And as he thought he lifted the heavy war ax in his hand and looked deep into its pitted surface and in the torch light he could see his own face looking back at him, where have the cycles gone, how many more will I see?
This was a question that should not be asked by a Thungodra, they should be content to serve the Goddess and know that when they die they will travel to the Golden Hall and sit by her side, this is what they believed and what made them strong, to fill your head with questions best left to the Elders of the tribe will only make you weak, and a Thungodra must never be weak.
And so the warrior began to pray once more, “My Goddess, make me strong to do your will, make me strong to protect your chosen, make me strong to protect the Holy Mother from harm.”
“And may I be worthy of your strength” said a woman’s voice.
Kalgar turned to see Egmar the Holy Mother standing near him, she was dress plainly and wore no headdress or trappings that would mark her as the speaker of the Goddess only a long flowing robe and matel to protect against the cold of the night.
“Holy Mother” Kalgar said suddenly standing tall and bowing his helmeted head low, “Forgive me for disturbing you.” The leader of the Thungodra had never been this close to the Holy Mother before, it was not a custom of their kind to speak directly to the High Priestess and he was as a loss for words.
But Egmar was not born a Holy Mother and when she was not preforming one of the rituals for the Gods she was a woman of simple ways, “It should be I asking for your forgiveness you were praying and I interrupted.”
This seemed to put Kalgar at ease some but he still stood hard and dared not look in the eyes of the High Priestess, “Forgive me Holy Mother but you should not be outside alone and without your Handmaidens, there is danger all around and it is my duty to protect you.”
“The confine of my quarters sometimes presses me and it has been a hard day for the tribe and
I must walk among my people for a time” she replied.
“Then I must accompany you to make sure you return safely” the old warrior said, “If harm should come to you it would mean my death”.
“I would not want such a thing to happen to such a great warrior so walk by my side and keep me safe”. Kalgar bowed once more and gripping his Tooth in his strong hand he began to walk with the woman who spoke for the Gods. A great honor the old warrior told his mind, she is smiled upon by the Gods and being in her presents meant that the Gods might also see him, but would they smile or would that see into his heart and the feeling that now rose up as he walked beside this woman?
Not far away Osh was having a discussion with the woman who saved his life.
“Hiding under the wagon was a logical place of safety, you did well” the old man said as he sat near their Washa to warm himself.
“I did it to save you not me” the woman replied as she dipped a ladle into the Hagar soup that was boiling on the ornate clay stove, “I can care for myself”, she took at bowl and poured the hot soup into it and handed it to the old man, “My father was a warrior and taught me how to defend myself and as a Touchtender I took a vow to protect those in my care, it was the will of Isarie that we survived”. Osh took the bowl and put a spoonful of the thick soup into his mouth, it was warm and delightful but he did not want to admit that to his caretaker, “Never the less your actions were quite commendable and I thank you for that, whether or not there was an actual deity involved is a matter of opinion”.
Alune had grown use to the ramblings of the old man and mostly ignored his ignorance but when it came to questioning the reality of the Goddess she drew the line, “Being a Half-soul you are not of the Chosen and it is written in the Book of Isaire that we should pity those who are not like us and do all we can to help them, you say you are a wise man and know many things, I know what I believe and follow those teachings, what do you follow?”
For a moment, the Callaxion unable
to reply for he knew that despite all his knowledge of mathematics, physics, chemistry and all matter of other Outer Rim intelligence he was not sure just what he believed when it came to all powerful beings, so he decided to change the subject.
“The soup is very good tonight” he finally said. “Yes” the Touchtender replied, “I was always good at cooking Hagar soup, you must put in the proper amount of Ulon spice for the time of the cycle, more in the cold time and less when Karus the father sun is close”. Osh was about to say that he thought there was too much spice in spite of it being cold but decided that he was far too hungry to protest.
Arn and Andra had finished their evening meal of roasted Rimar and fresh baked Kasha wheat bread and together they moved through the outer ring of warriors checking to make sure that all was in order, they both wore their traveling armor and horned helmets, and of course they carried their axes for what good is a warrior without their tooth? As they moved the younger fighters stood up and bowed before their King, but the older warriors knew better than to call attention to their Leader least an enemy be nearby ready to strike, but Arn did not reprimand them for their lack of judgment he would leave that to the older warriors and simply nodded his head in recognition. The continued onward under the clear evening sky listening to the Night-criers and the far off roar of some mountain beast.
Andra always loved looking up at the stars and now and then she would hunt for the star that warmed her Homeworld. It seems so far away now she thought, all her people gone, her mother and brother dead, but then she shook the sadness from her mind, you are no longer a school girl, you are here and now. “How many more days until we reach the sea? She asked.
“As many days as it will take” the King replied, “we must pass through the mouth of the winds, then across the long road of salt and then we will come to the sea”.
Mouth of the winds, the road of salt, Moonbud wanted to ask more but the King stopped before a young female warrior who stood up before her Leader. She is very attractive Andra thought, and indeed for she was gifted with a strong slim body and clear eyes and although she was hardly more than a child Andra knew she was a strong as any grown man of her Homeworld.
“What is your name?” Arn asked.“Jarrue, daughter of Nar and Oben the Ironworker” the girl answered.Then the King held out his hand, “Give me your tooth” he ordered.
The young warrior stood there for a moment or two then spoke, “I cannot, the Judgment of Isarie is mine only and must not be touch by another”. Arn lowered his hand, “You spoke the truth and neither King nor enemy must take it from you”. Andra knew the laws of the tribe and understood that once your ax is given to you no other may touch it, then she lifted her hand to her neck and touched the golden spike that hung there, it was her Journey-nail, a shard of gold that is driven into the hand to hold her weapon into the Afterlife. The King put out his hand again and touched the thick armor on the shoulder of Jarrue, “You defend the tribe, you will be strong”.
Arn and his mate continued walking but the image of the attractive young warrior was still in the mind of Andra, “She is very young for a warrior” she said as they passed by a group of Whiptails feasting on their evening meal of Rimar meat.
“Yes” the King replied.
There was a long pause as Moonbud stiffened her walk, “She was also very attractive don’t you think?”
“Yes” the King replied once more.
There was another long pause, “Do you think she is more attractive them me?” the Selcarie girl asked.
This time Arn stopped in his tracks and turned to the woman by his side, the King knew many things about being a leader but he was also a man and although a man can never fully understand the workings of a females mind he did know when to hold his tongue, she is casting a net and hoping to snare you, but Arn was wise enough not to be caught, “You are Moonbud, the flower that kills, you have fought at my side and defended the tribe, you have lain beside me and we have shared our bodies, you brought me back from the darkness of the Death-shadow and together we are Moric-Kan, the twin dragons, together we are strong, we will be together in this life and the next”.
Suddenly Andra felt very foolish, you may not be a schoolgirl anymore, but sometimes you act like one then she reached up and kiss her mate hard, they stood there for a time letting their love surround them, and then they parted. They did not speak for some time after that for there were no words that needed saying.
Niana the strange young girl also said nothing as she climbed out of the Karrack of the old Callaxion and the Touchtender, she moved like a shadow away from the camp and out into the darkness of the night, she did not fear being attacked by the Broga or any other creature of the night for she was one with them. She walked slowly and looked up at the moons overhead, Eubano, Ashsana, Italus, Eka and tiny Andra, the children of Isarie, the air was cold but she did not feel it, the wind blew on her face and if you had seen that face you would have understood why she walked alone, her eyes were clear now, with a pupil, pale green orbs in a skin that reflected the moonlike like moonbeams on water. She wore only a thin robe but if you had looked beneath that garment you would have seen a body changing, the outer flesh was almost transparent and echoed a greenish tint. Her head was without hair now, smooth and pale, but for all her strangeness she still radiated warmth.
She walked further into the night until she came to a place removed from site where she stood alone; she removed her robe and lifted her arms to the sky. “Mother” she said, “I will come to you soon, I will come and we will be as one, until then guard our people, keep them safe”.
When she had finished speaking those words a rumbling grew in the earth, it started slowly then matured until the rock surrounding the young woman began to split and crumble, then came a sound like a woman crying, Niana bent down and placed her hands on the cold ground.
“Eairla, as one” she said softly.
“Launch!” Ivar ordered as he sat in his command chair, and his well-trained officers quickly transferred his commands to the different sections of the orbiting invaders.
And like so many metal space creatures giving birth the orbiting spaceships spewed out dozens of landing craft, they fanned out, each following a precise trajectory so that they might land in their designated areas, most would land near the broken city of Del-Godar and there set up a fortified enclave of soldiers, weapons and supplies, others would land further away than spread out and look for suitable locations for reinforcements. But most of all they would seek out the rare mineral that the natives called “Grana” for that and only that would allow them to stay on Gorn and not contract the dreaded Plague that weakens and eventually kills all who do not possess the precious green salt.
The command ship of Ivar-Anoon began to shake as it hit the outer atmosphere of the planet, this was to be expected but what happened next was not!
“BANG”. Suddenly a massive jolted shook the ship, the bridge lights darkened then after a few moments they came back online followed my more shuttering.
“REPORT!” Ivar shouted as he held tightly to his command chair.
“We’ve been hit by a level six EMP pulse, shielding is holding but we have significant loss in maneuvering!” the helm officer reported.
“Reroute all power to maneuvering, hold on course!” Ivar replied, but again the lights dimmed as another wave hit the ship, “REPORT, REPORT!”
Then all was darkness.