Date: 2018-08-26 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Military Fiction
Description: Mark Victor was a soldier left broken after the Harmony War ended. What can a broken ex-trooper really do? What are they good for if they’ve gone through the EMF and been tossed out the other side? If you were to ask Mark... Maybe, doing what the enemy couldn’t and following his brothers and sisters. Mark wakes up to a nightmare, to an unfamiliar place with unknown faces. A planet under attack, an enemy he’s never seen before, he just wants to escape, but when he sees others in danger, a trooper stands for something, they stand to protect their own. No matter the cost.

The Tenth Awakens

Michael Chatfield

Maraukian War

Book 1

Prologue

Central Planning Complex for Cleansing Reversal

Shnarek Homeworld, Shnarek Home System

113 BC

General Banlesh looked at Major Sharventi with the same dull look all of the Shnarek had after the Void Guards’ “cleansing.”

“I have found a suitable race. They call themselves humans,” Sharventi said.

Banlesh looked over the information. “Interesting.”

“They’re territorial and aggressive when provoked. We will supplant some of them onto other planets to replenish their people, and gain diversity to get them to augment. We challenge them with the organic soldiers, to create a system powerful enough to support our needs. From that, we will be able to move to phase two, reveal a signal and guide them where we want them.” Sharventi sat back in his seat. His gelatinous being relaxing as he formed to the bowl-like seat and his tentacles rested on the armrests.

“The resources are within parameters. Your initiative is approved.” Banlesh’s voice was the same mix of bland and uninterested as Sharventi. “With this, we might be able to finally reverse the cleansing the Void Guards did to remove our emotions.”

Chapter 1

Supply Shuttle 241

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3350

“Gods curse it! Captain, I’m reading an extra person.” Cargo Master Choi flicked her holographic screen and pulled up a sensor reading of a man sitting in a side bay filled with medical supplies.

“Who?” Captain Ferek demanded. He didn’t have time for this kind of crap.

“No idea. Seems they don’t have an ID chip. Their NIAI—it’s almost as if they don’t have one. Looks like a bum, though.” Choi flicked to visual sensors, mentally kicking herself as she wondered how someone had made it onto her ship.

“Shit. All right, notify ground crew to arrest him when we are in the hangar if he’s still alive.” Ferek flicked over controls as the craft continued its dive toward the planet below. “Entering atmosphere.”

The craft shook and rattled from the friction of entering atmosphere. People were thrown about as the seats and their safety buckles tried to contain them.

“Ursho, paste those damned Maraukians. I’ve just received weapons hot,” Ferek barked as information was projected into his optical nerves by the nanites that made up his Neural Interfacing Artificial Intelligence.

“Got it. Firing as required,” Ferek’s co-pilot said as they flew the fully loaded supply shuttle, banking and twirling in movements no craft that size should be able to as they used a combination of gravity, anti-grav, and thrusters in an attempt to get closer to the ground.

Maraukians fired at them. The gray-furred apes had cannons mounted to their backs that filled the air with plasma, rail gun rounds, and rockets.

Those who were standing up added in their fire. With tens of thousands firing at them, they were unable to miss all of the hits. The armor of the shuttle sounded like rain on a tin roof as rounds marked its surface.

***

The bum in question tried to shake the feeling that the cheap, really-cheap,liquor left behind in the morning as he looked around at his surroundings.

He’d found it in some locker a while ago, using it in order to dull the memories and get some sleep.

Bright light shone in from a view screen, acting as a porthole. A string of profanities erupted at the damned sun. He grunted as multiple gravities hit his body. The ship he was in banked violently. The sun was replaced with the fiery glow of re-entry into atmosphere and the portholes filtered down to a more bearable brightness. Mark blinked, trying to clear the light burned into his retinas. The glow of re-entry fell away, and the shuttle’s movements increased. Mark grunted but focused his eyes on the view screen. A yellow planet was below; streaks of brilliant blue cut up the massive continents, pooling into lakes and small seas.

The ship buckled with the familiar feeling of anti-spacecraft projectiles being way too close for comfort. A tinging noise rang off the hull of the ship. Decoys spat out of the sides of the ship, which were chased down with blue-green balls of fire. The ship cleared the atmosphere, jinking and weaving.

“Damn, I miss my armor right now,” Mark hissed as he looked at the grubby sand-colored fatigues he’d stolen. Not the armored helmet, breast plate, and greaves that he was more used to than his own skin. His gear would’ve made this feel like more than a slightly pressured cakewalk. One with bright lights, explosions, and a high risk of death, but those were familiar sights to an Earth Military Force Trooper.

Images flashed behind the man’s eyes as he cringed; he pushed them back into the recesses of his mind as he looked around to take his mind off it.

“This is definitely not the Sol system.” He studied the planet. The view did not match with any of Earth and Her Colonies planets he’d memorized.

Which meant one of two things: One—he was insane. Not that unlikely. Or two—he truly wasn’t in Earth and Her Colonies area anymore. Which meant that they really operated outside of the EHC and that they might really have a space drive that travels faster-than-light.

Images, unbidden, intruded into his mind. One of a man and a woman kissing as a rocket exploded behind them, his world going dark. An image of those two people on gurneys as Mark could only turn and run away.

Mark let out ragged breaths and pulled himself back. His eyes burned as his body felt to be in physical pain.

Think, Mark! Now is not the time! We need to figure out this FUBAR situation and quick! What are we looking at? By the weapons fire, looks like a hot drop into a war zone. Just. Fucking. Wonderful. Okay, we’re in one of those legion shuttles. There aren’t any guards on this thing, but I’d bet hard fucking money they’re going to have people on the ground.

Mark was hurled against his seat’s straps again, his hangover rearing its ugly head.

He’d seen the insides of stations and other craft for six months, hopping from ship to ship, getting as far as he could as fast as he could.

He didn’t know where the hell he was when he woke up, but as he stowed away and ran from ship to ship, he gathered more information.

He’d woken up in a ship coming back from Earth. It looked like a freighter on the outside, but inside it was a medical ship, putting Earth Military Force Troopers back together. However, the medicos weren’t from Earth and Her Colonies. Instead, they said that they were from the legion.

Mark, barely healed of his wounds, had gone searching for his brother Tyler and sister-in-law Alexis, threatening a woman who had shot at him before he’d found them. They were dead, laid up on gurneys.

Blinded by grief and rage, he’d escaped the ship, not knowing where he was going but just wanting to escape it all.

“Hitting the dirt in ten. It’s going to be a hot one.” A calm, thankfully human, voice echoed through the ship. The jackhammers in his head promptly alerted him of the fact there were a lot more gravities being put on his body, making it feel as if a nuclear war had kicked off inside his skull.

The heavy weapons on the shuttle opened up, with missiles, rail guns, cannons. Hell, they were probably throwing the fucking kitchen sink at whoever was shooting at them.

He breathed in as the gravities lessened. He looked at the view screen, now looking at a gray desert with patches of brilliant blue water and sand. The view screen tracked his eyes and looked left to face the direction the ship was going. The gray wasn’t the desert but where hundreds of thousands of fucked-up apes charging a black base that looked like an equally fucked-up wagon wheel, with bumps and weapons shooting out of it. The apes were being pushed back by artillery and weapon fire from the walls of the dome with catwalks from the main dome to smaller outer domes that created a wall.

“The fuck,” Mark growled to himself. He was a veteran of multiple battlefields, but he had never seen anything like what was in front of his eyes. It wasn’t a fight; it was a one-sided slaughter. But the victims of this slaughter were actually able to not only force their way across open ground but engage the buildings along the outer ring of defenses in fierce battle.

“It’s called tactics, or at least move and fucking shoot. Not run at the fucker trying to kill you and give them a nice juicy target. Just how in the goddamn colonies can these apes keep up this kind of fighting? Holy fuck.” Mark held his head, shaking it. This truly was alien to him.

“Fucking hangover.” He cringed. At least it helped him to look away from the idiocy that was the apes’ tactics, which seemed to be run as fast as possible into the weapons fire, not caring for their losses. It actually looked as though they became more excited as the fucked-up wagon wheel fortifications tried to suppress them with everything they had.

The craft shifted from side to side to make it harder to track. The sounds of weapons fire making contact filled the craft as a missile exploded in front of his view, taking out the sensors and switching him to a grainier picture. Even with the shitty quality view, he was able to see that they’d leveled out and were barrelling toward the wagon wheel fort at a few Machs—its target; the dome in the center of the base. He gripped his seat as the distance closed in the blink of an eye.

“Fuuuuuuck!” The wall snapped opened in bare seconds before they would have been turned into a smoking wreck. Something slowed the shuttle, violently swinging him from side to side. He hit the quick release in the center of his chest, swaying a bit as he got to his feet and checking he had everything. He gave the view screen a final glance and saw troops rushing out of the shuttle in full body armor as robots unloaded the cargo.

His combat pumps and augments forced the nausea away even as his head swam.

“Not Earth Military Force.” He looked at the powered armor-wearing soldiers. It was thinner and better made than the units he’d used as a trooper in the Harmony War.

Instead of heavy machine guns, these soldiers were using bullpup rifles, with a large shield on their back with Roman symbols on it. At their hips, they wore a sword that stuck out to the side so as to not hit their armored legs.

“I think I’ll introduce myself later—don’t want to walk into the middle of a firefight.” He stretched to his full height of six and a half feet, cracking his high gravity-wrecked joints. Scars covered his visible skin and bumps under his ragged shirt told of more violent injuries.

He stepped out of the compartment. Looking toward the storage area, he started jogging just as a hatch cycled. Four of the powered armor-wearing soldiers came out of the corridor. Shit. Definitely not one of my best mornings.

“Well, this is a little awkward.” He raised his hands above his head and looked at the faceless helmets of the four armored soldiers. They were only slightly shorter than him.

Wordlessly, two approached: one ready to subdue him and the other with an arm immobilizer. The other two moved to get better arcs, ready to kill him if he made an aggressive move. He opened his arms to show he had no weapons and gave his best disarming smile.

“Seems I got lost on the way to the shitter. Mind telling me how to get there?” He tried to placate them as he figured they were three meters away from him.

They continued their advance, sure of their armor and weapons. He felt distinctly less confident of his chances of survival as adrenaline shot through his body.

Two meters.

“I’ll come with you as long as I don’t have to wear that thing. Otherwise I’m going to leave.” This caused the two in front to pause. He’d bet money that they were conversing with their commander. They didn’t say anything to him and continued their advance. Well, I did warn them. He twitched his triceps and released two blades from their holsters under his upper arms.

He didn’t want to get into another fight but if he wasn’t able to fight back, he didn’t like his chances of surviving. It would be as easy as pulling a trigger to put him down.

Mark felt his heart beat faster. He hated running and hiding. He was a fighter, but he didn’t know what his cause was and needed more information before he could make any judgments.

One.

He moved, ducking forward so those covering from behind couldn’t get a clear line of fire at him as he flicked his hands down, catching the blades in his hands. He grinned as battle hormones from his augments kicked in. Time to dance. His combat pumps shot a cocktail of drugs into his system as his body seemed to come alive with energy.

***

Richmond Lavicus had been a bit bewildered when Optio Jael had picked him and two others for a security detail to detain a stowaway, but he was a legionnaire and so he followed his orders, grabbing an immobilizer as soon as the shuttle in question landed. They’d rushed aboard to where the stowaway was supposed to be.

Richmond was a little shocked when the stowaway was a six-and-a-half-foot tall man who looked like a fighter.

Something seemed familiar about him, even with the long brown hair and the full beard.

He’d asked Jael whether they should just talk to the man before they detained him because he did not want to see what the man did if he didn’t want to go peacefully. Jael had denied it and Richmond followed his orders. When the man had threatened them, Richmond had felt a little apprehensive but safe inside the armor that had kept him alive on three planets.

He’d gotten within a meter of the man when he raised the immobilizer, ready to strap the man’s arms in it. Then the man moved. It was faster than anything he’d ever seen. The man ducked; mono-blades appeared in his hands as he slashed the knee joints of Richmond’s suit with the blade in his left, causing Richmond to drop. The man brought the knife in his right across Quell’s right knee, making him tilt and fall as a ton of armorite and gravity worked to topple him. The bum turned his body and hurled the two blades into the barrels of Jael and Jorsht’s guns. They only reacted when the blades where halfway down their barrels. Their panicked trigger pulls made a telltale fizzt of shorted electromagnets. Richmond had thrown the immobilizer away and reached for his sword.

The man grabbed the sword from Quell’s back, leaving the M19 as he tackled Jorsht and Jael. Veins popped along his bare skin as he dropped the both of them, sending a ton and a half worth tumbling, shaking the corridor.

Seeing the man charge forward, Richmond saw his opportunity, and dove for Quell and his M19.

The other man brought his sword to bear, systematically cutting the servos in the two suits’ elbows and then knees.

Richmond turned toward the man, leveling his barrel with them.

The man ducked as Richmond put a round in the ceiling. The mono-molecular sword was thrown out from the man’s hand, stabbing through the rifle as the man grabbed a sword from Jorsht.

Richmond desperately grabbed at his sword, getting it halfway out of its scabbard.

“Don’t do that, son,” the man growled, making Richmond freeze as Quell’s mono-blade tapped his helmet. Slowly, Richmond released his sword.

A grin spread across the man’s face. “Smart move.” He flicked the tip of his blade and sent Richmond’s down the corridor.

“Who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The man sliced the motors in Richmond’s armor, making them useless. He turned, grabbed the two blades from the M19’s barrels and ran toward the cargo hold.

Richmond kept racking his brain, wondering why the man looked familiar. The alarm had already been raised; capturing the man was someone else’s job.

***

Mark rushed through the aisles of the cargo hold, avoiding the automated loaders and trying to keep an eye out for the reinforcements that were probably already on their way. He didn’t have time to deal with them as he crossed through a blast door into the main cargo hold.

“Where in the hell am I going to find armor and a gun in this lot?” he muttered.

“There’s Jupiter-class armor in section J-02,” the toneless voice of the shuttle’s AI said.

“Thanks. Uh, where is that?” On Earth, AIs were still theoretical but Mark had got used to using them while on the run. Seemed as if they were everywhere within the world he now found himself. It also seemed that as long as he could convince them he was under threat, they’d let him get away with small infractions.

“Follow the blue ball.” A bright ball appeared, starting down the aisles.

“Damn, you’re good.” Mark followed the big blue ball.

There has to be some kind of pun there.

“Thank you,” the AI said in its same toneless voice as Mark followed the bouncing blue ball.

“You have reached your cargo,” the shuttle AI said as the ball disappeared.

He looked at a row of black containers that stretched back twenty meters and then was stacked to the roof of the shuttle. They looked like large, seamless coffins.

“How do I open it?”

“You need a NIAI.”

Mark grimaced at the shuttle AI’s words. “Where would these NIAIs be, pray tell?”

“Behind you.”

“Now we’re talking!” He hit the release on the shipping container behind him. Inside were small black boxes stacked upon one another. Mark pulled one out and opened it to reveal a silver band a few inches thick and bigger than his hand.

“Attach to your upper arm,” the shuttle AI said after he’d studied it for a few seconds.

What the hell. He shrugged and slid it up his right arm. It clamped down on his upper arm and started spreading out, stretching and conforming to his arm faster than Mark had time to react. A cold feeling spread from the armband through his body. He clawed at the band in panic as his adrenaline spiked. He hit it against the wall. Other than bruising his arm around it, there was no change in the band.

“Calm down. I’m integrating,” a toneless voice said in his mind.

His adrenaline surged again as his head pounded. He cried out as his brain felt as though it were too big for his skull as battle hormones flooded his body again.

“Integration anomaly. Nanite implantation problem. Calm down!”

He breathed heavily as the pain subsided. “Are you fucking kidding me? Now there’s a fucking voice in my head!” Mark yelled. His combat pumps were flushing his system with a chemical cocktail, boosting his strength and dulling his pain. His augments went full bore as he clawed at the armband and tried to smash it against the containers.

“The voice you’re hearing in your head is normal. I am the NIAI.”

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” he yelled in his head, not listening to the voice. The cold feeling seemed to turn into molten metal, burning its way through his spine.

Mark gritted his teeth, his fingernails cutting the skin around the armband.

“Too much of an open-ended question but it’s my job to keep you alive, so I would advise you to put on this armor.” The coffin-like container opened, revealing one of the suits he’d seen running around. It was bigger than the ones he’d disabled by a few inches.

“The pain you’re feeling right now is because of a malfunction. Your combat pumps and augments interfered with the integration process and now they’re inside your nervous system. They’re only supposed to be overlaying it, sensing the electrical signals so we can communicate by thought and I can relay information through your nervous system.”

Mark gritted his teeth against the pain that was subsiding. He needed to get the hell out of here and fast.

“And you can read my thoughts?” Mark thought.

“Yes, I can. You really know nothing about me. I’m a Neural Interfacing Artificial Intelligence. Is there a name you would like to choose for me?”

He pulled a rifle from the holster in the container and a cylinder that was next to it. He slapped the cylinder into the back of the rifle. He’d used and trained on hundreds of weapon systems. He pulled on the cocking handle, loading a round into the weapon.

Seen one gun, seen a million. He felt better now with a weapon in his hands.

“Sarah.” He set down the rifle on a nearby container, and stuffed his clothes into the empty holster while he pulled down a cat suit. “Looks like you’re still using these things.” He wrinkled his nose as he put it on, stretching it drastically. As he dressed, the armor was pushed out of its coffin on arms.

The suit opened along seams in its sides. He pulled at and adjusted his cat suit before stepping backward into the powered armor.

“So, what did you mean by integrating problem from before?”

“Some of the nanites I use to connect to your brain where moved into other places than they should be because of your adrenaline, combat chemicals, and emotional spike. I was not aware of them being in these areas as it is not part of a normal NIAI programming.”

She didn’t reveal anything new but Mark wanted to check. “That sounds both bad and complicated.” The armor closed around him. He felt a hum as the darkness of the helmet turned to blue for a second. Then a heads-up display—or HUD—appeared in his vision. Icons littered his view.

“Is there a way to clear this up?” Mark wanted to take his sword as well but he didn’t have a scabbard for it, and there wasn’t any of those shields and swords in the coffin. He didn’t have the time to search for them.

“Just hold an image of what you want in your mind. I will put a guiding ball to the nearest person to turn yourself into.”

“You said you’re supposed to keep me safe.” He felt weird as he tried to talk with his mind. His HUD flashed to what he’d imagined, identical to his setup on his battle rattle.

“Yes.”

“All right then, Sarah, I don’t think that would be the safest option for me seeing as I disabled four of these suits. So I think for right now the best place to be is somewhere far away from here and safe.”

“Well, there’s nowhere exactly safe, but I’ll guide you to the safest place on the net.”

“All right, Sarah. Lead on.”

“Follow the bouncing ball.” The toneless voice was now more feminine in nature.

He didn’t pay any attention but focused on following the new bouncing ball, his rifle ready to put down any who got in his way.

He walked slowly at first, getting used to the new armor before picking up speed. It was surprisingly easy to use. He quickly left the cargo shuttle, making his way into a cargo bay filled with containers and more black coffins carrying powered armor and rifles.

“As you move and your reactions are recorded, I am able to pick up on your tells. The longer we work together, the easier it will be. After a period of assimilation, I might be able to predict what you need before you think of it,” Sarah said.

Was that pride I heard? Mark thought. It was hard to think of Sarah as just some machine. The effects of being able to predict his needs were alarming enough. One didn’t need to say how useful it would be in battle.

“Hold! Bellona tanks coming through,” Sarah said as Mark was about to run out from within a collection of cargo crates.

“Goddamn,” he muttered as he looked up at the mountains of armor that Sarah highlighted as being Bellona main battle tanks. Twenty-three thousand tons of super-reflective, purpose-built killing machines caused the ground to rumble. Every inch was covered in weapon systems. Sarah highlighted them, from the main turret hosting a 550mm revolving tribarrel with an anti-spaceship barrel and two area denial barrels characterized by their open-ended rectangular muzzles. On its frontal armor, there were two armored cupolas that controlled the point defenses of the small moving hill, including 10 to 150mm rail guns, an array of acceleration tubes, laser batteries, and blow-out panels lining the lower armor around the exterior tracks. Hatches on the hull and sides hid arrays of accel tubes and rail guns. Whoever had made it had believed more firepower was always better.

Mark ran between a break which appeared in the tank column, running into a corridor that led away from the interior of the wagon wheel-shape fort. He moved through armored doors, passing acceleration tubes that were nothing more than automated loaders tossing rounds into rail gun tubes that powered up, firing the projectiles into the ranks of apes.

A few people flittered around here and there, putting in new orders for the weapon systems and fixing those that were damaged.

He passed secondary batteries and clear defenses with armored personnel ready to move to the front to support or hold if the front was breached and collapsed under the pressure.

He continued to the exterior ring, his thoughts stuck on the sights he’d seen. It was clear this group’s tech was impressive and their combat abilities were high.

If they’ve got all of these weapons and preparations, those dumb apes have to be one hell of an opponent. Mark was still thinking about the tank when Sarah’s yells brought him back to reality.

“Maraukian breach!”

“So much for being the safe route. The fuck is a Maraukian?”

She flashed him a picture of the gray apes he’d seen on his flight in. They had gray fur, four eyes, and tusks protruded from their upper jaws. It had four lower legs to move and two upper limbs to manipulate tools. They were about ten foot from the four lower legs to head; over fifteen feet from rump to head. It was obvious to his eye something was definitely wrong. They’d obviously at some time in their past had genetic modifications, creating the now monkey, reptile, and mammalian creature in his HUD.

“The things I saw attacking this place when I flew in?”

“Yes. They’re making entry up ahead in about two hundred meters.”

Mark’s pace slowed. These weren’t his people—what was he doing, running into danger for someone he didn’t know?

He was just about to turn back when armored doors snapped shut behind him. He gritted his teeth, holding his weapon tighter. It looked as if he had no option in the matter now. He’d rather go out fighting than waiting for the enemy to come for him.

“Get me the fastest path there.” He picked up his pace once again and ran forward.

“I thought you wanted to avoid others?”

“Shut up and do it. I need communications as well.”

“Patching you into the net now.”

The communications net came to life. Instantly, he could hear others as clear as if they were next to him, their voices automatically lowered or increased in volume so he could hear them clearly. “Support front and center at the breach. Alpha half left; rest right. Get those damn barricades up! Bravo, just lay down fire and hold the grenades.”

He ran into the battlefield. He was in a section that was shaped like a half moon with soldiers on the first floor desperately firing into the four man-wide hole that Maraukians were swarming. They didn’t care about wounds or pain as they scratched, clawed, and fired through the hole, expanding it and attempting to force their way inside.

They weren’t able to overwhelm the soldiers inside yet but it was a matter of time. The telltale screech of vibro-blades was dulled by Sarah automatically. The defending force had some shields in the ragged force moving to create a barrier in front of the defenders shooting through the hole in the wall.

By their actions, it was clear their morale was faltering. They were cut off from the rest of the base, with armored doors sealing them off. Either they would be able to contain this and hold out long enough for a stronger force to assist them, or they would fail and be wiped out.

Another section of the wall showed a vibrating blade slashing through it. Several more blades cut into the wall. The wall caved in as Maraukians piled in.

“Help!”

His eyes turned as Sarah highlighted a medico with a red cross on her arm.

She grabbed the rifle she’d put on the ground. She didn’t pause as she fired into the Maraukians, taking down one of them with a burst to the face. She switched targets to the next Maraukian. There was no sense of give in her actions; even if she died, she would stand there, killing Maraukians, protecting her patients until the very end. She actually advanced.

Mark’s face split into a rare smile as the hairs on the back of his head raised. He laughed, leaving his reservations behind. The ragged defending force couldn’t help her, barely holding together themselves. He could see without help, she and her patients would die.

He rushed past a soldier, ripping off their scabbard and drawing their sword. He flicked his sword, sending the scabbard flying.

Anger surged through his body. I’m not running away again. He spun his sword. Its edge glinted, the way only a mono-blade would, in his left as he raised the rifle with his right.

Sarah tagged it as the M19 rail gun.

***

Sarah saw memories flooding her processors. She felt the anger being radiated by Mark. It was ethereal; it wasn’t a thing of emotion but a physical object. Memories unknown to her flooded her—thoughts of battles with swords and powered armor, EMF troopers on either side as they fought against Harmony Chosen in their powered armor. The sense of anger, the sense of fear and being alive. She saw Mark didn’t care for his life, just wishing to save the medico and her people, to pit himself against the Maraukians.

Images and information of the Maraukians passed through her mind, recordings of fights, biological information. Sarah was no longer detached; through Mark, she had experienced real emotion. She wasn’t detached from it like other NIAI were; instead, it was so strong it felt to be a part of her. Instead of having an aloofness and overwatching of a NIAI, she felt the excitement, the thrill of the fight, the hunt. The relief of being able to finally do something that he knew after months of being unable to do so. Today the Maraukians might win but today the Maraukians would taste their anger. Sarah and Mark’s thoughts played off each other. The gap between the two of them seemed to break, blurring the line of NIAI and user. NIAI, suit, and user were forged together, the sum of their parts merged into a weapon.

They felt each other. Emotions freely passed between them—organic and inorganic, unexplainable, impossible—yet they felt it was somehow right and trusted in each other. Purpose filled them.

Mark growled. His body surged with energy; instead of the chaotic anger of before, now he was almost detached from it all. The world seemed to slow and his body come alive, every muscle, every fiber of his being alive with cold energy. His emotions underwent a change. It wasn’t uncontrollable rage, fiery and hot. It was as cold and deadly calm, precise and exacting as a scalpel.

“DADDY’S HOME, LADIES AND GENTS.” His voice was amplified by the suit’s speakers to its maximum volume as a mirthless grin spread across his face, unseen by everyone else shocked by the announcement. He jumped into the air; his HUD connected with the M19 as he fired while Sarah controlled the anti-grav. What Sarah knew he now knew; there was no break in knowledge, no pause in command and action. They were one whole. Creating a god of death. Maraukian heads snapped back, rounds piercing their brains. The medico didn’t look to see who it was as she continued her rate of fire. Sarah fired bomblets; Maraukians exploded and chunks of them flew everywhere. Mark dropped to the ground. His M19 moved as if it had sentience; with every press of the trigger, a burst took down a Maraukian. He cleared an area around the medico and her patients. He’d only got a few dozen before his weapon clicked empty. He threw his now empty rail gun with the power of his servo-assisted arm through a Maraukian that had passed through the growing hole in the wall.

He rolled to the side. His nervous system, the sensors of his suit, and all systems Sarah was connected to were linked together. He could’ve closed his eyes to fight as he ducked and whirled, grabbing the vibro-blade of a dead Maraukian on the ground. He stood, coming up and driving his own mono-blade upward underneath another Maraukian’s chest plate, killing it instantly. He left the blade there and ripped the vibro-blade from his victim’s grasp; he spun and took off the head of another. He threw the mono-sword, nailing a Maraukian to the wall. It thrashed about in its death throes as Mark grabbed the beheaded Maraukian’s vibro-blade.

With a flick of his wrist, Sarah streamed information through his HUD. A lifetime of training with every weapon mankind had ever thought of creating made him adjust his stance. The thirty-kilo blades danced through the air, the blue blood of the Maraukians spraying everything in the vicinity. He matched his skills with Sarah’s information: weaving, dodging, stabbing through a group of vital organs there, ripping another Maraukian’s vitals apart, dropping to the floor to have anti-grav catch him to avoid a blade before springing right back on the anti-grav and coming under their exposed guard to drive a blade through them, flipping as it was caught and grabbing the one in his latest victim’s claw.

Mark and Sarah’s coordination was unparalleled, trusting in each other completely, combining the information Sarah held and Mark’s reactions and training of his past.

Their actions weren’t just fear-inspiring; there was a beauty and a grace to every movement: their sword angled just so to wreak the most damage, their stance just so they could move back and cut across under a secondary attack Sarah had already simulated.

To those watching, it was as if Mark and Sarah were simply walking through a field, the wheat around them bowing to their existence.

It left them in a state of shock. This unknown, cocky, and arrogant man had charged in with abandon, going toe-to-toe with the creatures that plagued their nightmares.

Mark was focused on just fighting, a slight smile on his face. After months of running, hiding, it felt good to be doing something. This was where he belonged: tip of the fucking spear, in the middle of the shit.

***

“Who are you?” Ava Desialias was the medico behind Mark. She regretted her words, hoping it wouldn’t distract him as she reloaded her rifle.

“Someone who’s going to keep you alive,” the unknown man replied via his speakers. His voice was strangely calm as he surged forward—slashing, ducking, and spinning—wading through the Maraukians and using their own vibro-blades against them. His movements were complex and hard to read. It seemed as if the Maraukians were just running into his blades as he pushed forward, relentless in his actions. A Maraukian swung down, making him turn sideways and out of the way of its blade; his left blade moved in a flash, cutting off the offending limb as his right blade entered at just the right angle to the skull. It was dead before its arm touched the floor. Two more were dead as its body hit the ground.

Ava pulled her eyes from the bloody display and firmly closed her mouth to stop further comments. She knew the man was busy. She’d tend to the wounded and he could deal with the Maraukians now ten meters from where she worked on her patients. He deserved a little trust and by hell, she was going to give it to him.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? Get that shield wall up. Prepare anti-matter grenades and continuous rate of fire. Leaders, sort out the rate of fire and get your people together. NOW!” The unknown man’s voice was dominating, his tone clear and precise. There was no room for argument. This was an order; those who dared disobey would feel his ire.

The ragged defense force gritted their teeth. Their actions became swifter, and they pushed the thoughts of impending doom from their minds. Now was not the time to think of the what-if’s—they were fucking legionnaires! They held the line and no Maraukians were going to stop them from carrying out that duty.

Shields meshed together, the disorganized rabble was now a wall, with M19s sprouting through gun ports in the shields.

Maybe we might survive the day, Ava thought. Her NIAI did not want to tell her the chances of that, which he’d already calculated as she worked on the wounded.

Ava focused on her patients. Everything else became background noise.

***

“Fire as they bear.” Tesserarius Michales took command of those behind the shield wall, sending a fire plan to every man and woman under his command to maintain continuous fire on the Maraukians.

“Come on, you Maraukian fucks!” Signifer Luis Jarek snarled through the net as the legions came together, their M19’s tracers focused on the hole the Maraukians were barging in. Even the naturally armored Maraukians weren’t able to withstand that kind of firepower as they were pushed backward.

Sarah saw everything was coming together finally as the surviving sensors on the exterior of the wall pinged a herd commander. She sent the information to her user’s HUD.

“The hell is that?” Mark studied the image even as he continued to fight. He was looking at a larger than normal Maraukian using all six of its limbs to move, with a massive cannon mounted on its back.

As fast as he thought, Sarah knew, the information already part of his memories. Each herd commander was in charge of two hundred fanatically loyal normal Maraukians. Some of them might work together against a target. They would lead their herds from place to place, killing any humans in their path and grouping together with other herds that had come into contact with defenses, or rush toward where a herd had been killed off. They were barely smarter than the Maraukian normal, but able to somehow communicate with one another.

“Commander bearing on the breach!” a legionnaire yelled, just as the commander opened up with its cannon. As if a guiding light, every Maraukian that could fire did so, not caring as they killed those in their own herds.

The rounds ripped through the back of the Maraukians in the breach and ricocheted off the shield wall.

“Brace!” Tesserarius Michales demanded. Plasma blasts and rockets smashed against the opening, blowing in dust and debris. The walls broke, killing Maraukians.

The shields behind the wall shook with impacts. A legionnaire fell under the onslaught, yelling out as they were launched backward.

“Cover that hole!” Signifer Jarek barked as a legionnaire pushed up into take their position.

“Advance!” Michales said. The shield wall pushed forward under the impacts. Another legionnaire was hit by an explosion that got behind his shield, killing him and wounding those on either side of him.

All three were pulled backward; replacements stepped over them as the line advanced.

The medicos looked after them, but there was no time for the shield wall to pause.

Michales grunted as his carbon hendral shield was hit by a missile. Even made of the strongest material known by Roma, it was still marked and scarred.

“Ready those anti-matter grenades for the area around the breach! Shrapnel into the Maraukians!”

When his people got back to him, showing green on his HUD, he reported, “Ready on this end!”

***

“Good. Sending artillery fire plan.” Sarah transmitted to Mark as well as Michales.

“Requesting fire support at section echo-one-fiver. Fire plan transmitted. Green up if confirmed coordinates,” Mark said.

“This area has a breach in it. If we were to fire this close, it would kill everyone inside the wall,” the signifer running the acceleration tube park said.

“Let me worry about that. We will transmit fire orders once breach is sealed.”

“Solid copy. Will only fire if breach is confirmed sealed.”

“Understood. Wait out.”

“Michales, we need to seal that wall if they’re going to shell the Maraukians!” Mark yelled. His eyesight got hazy and his reactions slowed down as he fought to retain clarity. His body felt as if it were breaking down under the stress.

“Shield wall advance!” Tesserarius Michales ordered everyone in the shield wall.

“Who the fuck gave you authority?” someone said.

Sarah was still connected to the net. As he was about to jump down their throat, Michales did it for him.

Morale had broken earlier and it was clear some people weren’t ready to charge back into the fighting.

“Shut the fuck up there, Legionnaire. You were given a fucking order and you WILL carry it out.” Even through the modulated tones of the net, you could hear the anger, desperation, and fear in the tesserarius’s voice.

“I better not hear anything out of you again there, Legionnaire,” Signifer Jarek said.

Shrapnel bomblets dropped among the Maraukians, turning everything behind the wall and fifteen meters in front of it into a blue bloody mess. It had taken all of their shrapnel bomblets; there would be no do-overs. Sarah and her user took over the unused weapon systems on the wall and fired into the Maraukian lines. It was a drop in the bucket but they just needed a few seconds.

“Anti-matter grenades!” Michales yelled.

The unknown man threw his vibro-blades into Maraukians in the way before he jumped backward, covering Ava and her patient closest to the breach.

The temperature inside the breach soared as the wall liquefied, including part of the man’s armor.

“Push forward. Interlock shields and push it into the sides of the breach. Signifer Jarek, take a third of our people and block the secondary breach,” Michales ordered, back into the groove of things.

Catches along the sides of the shields locked them to one another as they kept walking, unable to see until they hit the liquefied wall, which was tacky.

“Release, move back. Fire remaining. To seal with the wall,” the man said.

“We have a temporary seal in place, good for artillery.” Sarah updated the artillery signifer.

“Understood. Firing for effect.”

The 480mm accel tubes fired their munitions from deep within the camp, hammering anything from the breach to five hundred meters out, leaving a glassy, bluish hell that barely held back the Maraukians.

“Why do I not hear heavy weapon systems firing, people?” Mark’s words seemed to get everyone moving once again as they realized they weren’t out of the fight yet.

Sarah transmitted it to everyone in the sector. Even though they were tired, they picked themselves up and ran to the firing ports, checking their remote weapons, replacing what could be replaced.

The fire support stopped. Sarah connected Mark to the accel tubes signifier. “That’s it; we’ve only got a limited supply of munitions currently.”

“Understood. Appreciate the assist.”

“No problem. Fire support out.”

Sarah opened a net with Ava.

“Now, would you mind getting off me? I need to look over my patients.”

“Ah, yes, ma’am.”

Sarah used anti-grav to toss him backward as he turned. His back was tight from the anti-matter melting his back some.

“Your back has severe burns. Your muscles and joints are under severe stress. Also, your brain’s temperature is dangerously high,” Sarah informed him.

“Well, shit. Can you do anything about this limited maneuverability part?”

“Replacement suit is in transit, with new rifle and swords as well as engineers to fix the breach and weapon systems.”

“Damn, nice thinking.”

“I didn’t think of anything. You did, actually, and I anticipated your request to do so.”

“Huh. Still, good job.”

“Thanks. Tesserarius Michales wishes to speak with you.”

“Connect.”

“Who are you?” Tesserarius Michales asked on a private net.

“Someone who’s going to get your asses out of the fire.” He looked at the readouts Sarah sent to his HUD about the structural integrity of the improvised shield wall.

The medico jumped onto the net. “Thank you for saving me and my patients.” Then she exited the net as fast as she’d joined.

“So why did you help us?”

Mark didn’t know what to say. He didn’t owe these people anything but still he’d stepped up in order to aid them.

“Reinforcements and resupply coming in,” came over the general net, thankfully giving Mark an escape.

Michales turned back to his people, now firmly in his role. His people followed his orders swiftly, grabbing ammunition and parts and returning back to their positions as fast as possible. There, among the ammunition, was another black coffin.

Michales sensed Mark didn’t want to tell him everything.

He laughed, pushing it to the side. “I’d just like to say thank you. I was floundering there for a bit. Our optio and centurion were killed just before you showed up and we were all thinking we were going to die today. Thanks for everything. Without you, I don’t think we’d be able to pull together and survive,” Michales said.

“Trust yourself and your people. Build them into the team they need to be. They might not like it, but afterward it could save their lives.” Mark tried to impart some of the lessons he had learned when leading men and women into battle.

He moved to the black coffin that was a bit farther away from the ammunition and other gear, leaving Michales with his own thoughts.

Sarah opened it as he faced it and then his own, releasing the connections as he walked out of his and into the other. He put the sword on and checked the M19, grabbing as much ammunition as he could carry before he transferred his old suit into the coffin.

***

Legatus Pullo looked over his command center; it was in the layout of a ship command center. All of the reclined workstations looked in toward a central hologram projector showing the map of Camp Epsilon with symbology covering it.

“Sir, there’s something strange happening at section bravo-one-niner,” one of the wall controllers said over a private net, talking NIAI to NIAI—which meant he’d just thought it to Pullo, who didn’t think he was ever going to get his head around that little fact.

He pressed the forward button on his chair as it tilted backward and pushed him forward so he was underneath his holographic interface. “Send it.”

Pullo’s face was solemn. It seemed he was watching the end of a century under his command. His eyes flickered as a man charged in out of nowhere. He shook his head, expecting the man to die. His eyes widened as the man not only ran into the Maraukians but fought them hand-to-hand. And he was not only killing them, but he did it in a manner that made them seem as if they were nothing but children waving sticks around.

Pullo focused the optical sensors on the suit that had defended the medico. It stood at nearly eight feet, its back now solidified into a single piece of armor as the user stepped out.

“What the fuck!” Pullo nearly yelled, leaning forward in his seat as he looked at the seven-and-a-half-foot mountain of a man as he stepped out of the broken suit into a new one.

Pullo queried his NIAI. “Is that Mark Victor? Old Private Mark Victor?”

“I do not have that information at this time,” his NIAI reported.

“Does this have anything to do with the missing NIAI unit and suit with the disabled group in the supply shuttle? Might this be the same man who escaped the space legion ship Liberator that went to Earth? The man Nerva is looking for?” Pullo’s excitement was building.

“With extrapolation, it seems it would be likely,” his NIAI reported.

“All right, give me a channel to that suit.”

Dutifully, his NIAI obeyed.

“Private Mark Victor, is it really you?”

“Who the hell is this?” The man’s familiar voice made Pullo break out into a smile.

“That any way to greet your dear Sergeant Pullo?” Pullo laughed.

“You’re shitting me. Pullo? I thought you were dead?”

“Well, technically I am. Got pulled out from Sacremon, really fucked up—took them some time to put me back together.” Pullo sighed, casting his mind back to that time. To him, it had been decades ago; however, Mark had been traveling thirty percent the speed of light, and put into stasis between systems. To him, it had been five wars across five star systems ago.

“What the hell is this place? What unit is this?” Mark asked.

“It’s not an EMF unit. I can’t tell you much more than that.”

“You know how much I hate secrets.”

“I know, I know, but there’s a lot you need to know. Going to need some time to take you through it all.”

“Good to finally find someone I know,” Mark said. The relief in his voice was clear.

“Before we meet up, I need your opinion. What do you think of Tesserarius Michales? Do you think he’d be ready to take command?” If Pullo trusted anyone in the galaxy, it was this man. He’d place his life in his hands without a second thought; he’d done it multiple times before.

“It just took some shock in the beginning but he’s filling into the role quickly. He’s already got the chain of command sorted. He’s jumping right in and isn’t worried about getting his hands dirty and it seems like he’s got a solid core to fall back on.”

“All right. I’m going to place you in an attached advisory position.”

“Sarge,” Mark agreed.

“I really need someone on this next mission with them. I trust them, but I’d feel better with you there to back them up.” Pullo put his cards on the table.

“I’ll help them,” Mark promised.

“Thank you, Mark. Cutting him in now.” Pullo became serious. He would be giving Michales not just one rank higher, but jumping him up to a second rank higher than he’d been before. That wasn’t just a little bit of extra pressure.

“Tesserarius Michales, as of now you are receiving a battlefield promotion; you are now raised to the rank of Centurion. I wish it was under different circumstances and that Centurion Alwas was still with us. May he go with the gods.”

“Yes, sir,” now-Centurion Michales said, harshly clearing his throat. “Sir, do you know who the man is who saved our asses?”

“His name is Evocatus Mark Victor. I have served along with him many times and he’s kept my hide alive more times than I could count. I’m placing him in an attached advisory role. Whether you take his advice or not is up to you but he’s still pretty good with a weapon.”

“Thanks, Pullo,” Mark said dryly, checking his weapons over by ingrained reflex, Pullo could see through his optical feeds.

“I’m moving you back to the staging area. Get some rest and be ready. I think you’re going to be busy rather quickly.”

“Sir.”

“Good luck; and Mark, I expect a full report when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Sarge.”

Pullo closed down the net, leaving the two to organize the turnover with their reinforcements and pull their people back.

***

“Woo-hoo! Close security on Bellona Company, boys and girls!” Optio Danny “Dodger” Reckhi proclaimed as his NIAI uploaded the mission details on his HUD. His original century of ten eight-legionnaire contuberniums had been turned into seven contuberniums, totaling fifty-two legionnaires and his signifer. The Tesserarius had been killed as well as the centurion who’d been trying to be a hero.

Reckhi had gotten his nickname in basic, always seemingly avoiding getting kicked out by the skin of his teeth, combined with the fact he ran everywhere, and it’d stuck ever since. Still dodging getting released by the skin of his teeth—not because he wasn’t a brilliant soldier but with enough alcohol in his system, he nearly had no filter and was prone to talk about people who got their positions based on who their family was, rather than their actual ability. The fact most of these people had positions high above him was his downfall.

At a hundred and fifty-eight years old, he was still as fast as ever, one of the oldest optios in history, and still shoved his boot firmly in his own mouth from time to time. Recently he’d gotten demoted yet again from centurion. It wasn’t his fault the legate he’d taught fifty years prior as an evocatus was still a little shit and had the tactical ability of a dog chasing its own tail.

The NCMs and enlisted loved him but the majority of high-ranking officers hated him. But even they had to admit if they needed nearly any question answered, it was always: “Someone get me fucking Reckhi, and make sure he’s sober.”

Even though he’d been demoted constantly over the course of his career, Reckhi wasn’t unhappy at all. He hated dealing with paperwork and he’d be held back to oversee the battle rather than be on the frontline of it. No, thank you. He’d much rather jump on a Bellona tank charging Maraukian herds any day of the year with a grin and enough ammunition to ruin anyone’s day.

His thoughts were focused on the report his friend Luis Jarek in the Death Dealers had sent him. It painted an interesting picture of Jarek’s unit having their collective asses pulled out of the fire by a guy called Mark Victor.

Jarek had said Mark could give Dodger a run for his money. Reckhi muttered darkly about showing certain young know-it-alls about the finer points of close combat. To which Jarek had muttered about youngsters having to go easy on seniors because of their advanced age and quickly signing off the net before Dodger could reply. Dodger was looking forward to the match—if they survived the Bellona run, that was.

He grinned as he and the rest of his men joined the Death Dealers.

“Hey, where’s Jarek at, the little shit?” Dodger said over the public net.

“Who’s calling who a little shit, you damn bamboo pole!” Jarek, standing at six foot five and with a mountain of muscle underneath his armor, jabbed an armor-covered finger at Dodger.

They clasped wrists as the Death Dealers and the Ape Killers, Dodger’s centuria, greeted one another in their own ways.

“Optio Reckhi, is that you I hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Reckhi said, faithfully checking Centurion Michales’s new rank. He sighed. Centurion Alwas had been a good man; the end always came too soon for the good ones.

“All right, Dodger. I’m new as hell to this. You know what’s going on or have a plan?” Michales asked.

“We’re running security on the Bellona, sending you the roster for where your people are going.” He gave Michales a few minutes to scan the information. “Questions?”

“None,” Michales confirmed.

“All right. Well then, let’s get everyone loaded up on ammo. Nothing like a good Bellona ride!”

“Crazy bastard. All right, we’re moving out in twenty,” Luis added.

Michales nodded, leaving the two of them behind and talking to the remainder of his centuria.

Dodger entered into a private chat with now Optio Jarek.

“So, Jarek, where the hell’s this Mark Victor fella?”

***

“There is no way we could merge again if you’re in this condition,” Sarah said calmly, laying out the facts in a no-nonsense tone.

Over the course of their battle, Sarah had become much more AI and less of a computer-answering program. Mark, on the other hand, now found it easier to think to communicate with her than talk. He was even getting faster at it, much faster.

“So then how am I going to do this?”

“I have a feeling you’re a stubborn bastard.”

“You got that right.”

“All right. Have a doctor give you something. At least then I’d say you’re okay for a little bit of running around madness.”

“Woo-hoo, my own personal babysitter.”

“And secretary and informant and...”

“Yes, yes, I get the idea. Could you call a medico for me then?”

“Sent it while you were bickering,” she said sweetly.

Ava came around the side of the Bellona with Mark leaning against it.

“So what’s the problem?” She read her HUD as Mark’s NIAI sent it to her. “How can you walk?”

“Not too well right now,” Mark answered truthfully.

“You need to go to the med bay. The damage to your soft tissues, even your bones and joints, is catastrophic.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I haven’t seen anything this bad with someone staying together before.”

“Well, you got anything for it?”

Ava sent some commands to the suit to inject different drugs and painkillers into his system.

“Much better, Doc.” Mark got to his feet.

“All right, well, we need to get you to a med bay. There’s no way I’m having the person I owe a damned life debt to falling over because their muscles just gave up and their tendons snapped.”

“Life de—? Doc, don’t worry about me. I’ll get fixed up afterward,” Mark said. Pullo had asked him for a favor; he wouldn’t stop until he’d completed it.

“You need to go to the med bay right now.”

“I can look after myself and sit on the tank, picking off anything that comes close. No running or anything too stressful that my body’s going to fall apart from.”

“That’s no reason…”

“I feel so much better already. I’ve got to meet up with my tank. I’ll go to the med bay as soon as we’re done,” Mark promised, pushing off of the tank and jogging away.

“I’m not…done.”

He was already turning the corner of the Bellona.

“Stubborn jackass. Kela, keep a med bay spot open for him; we’re going to have to put him in for a regeneration cycle.”

“Understood,” her NIAI replied.

***

“Welcome to Bellona protection detail. Today we’ll be taking a nice romp around the base. The forecast is sunny, with a high of fifty-eight centigrade, with more Maraukians than you can spit at. I will be your fearless leader. For you who don’t know me, call me Dodger. And that concludes our Bellona pre-trip brief.”

Mark grinned inside of his helmet as he linked two heavy rail gun cans together, each holding twenty-five thousand rounds. He put them on his back and attached the two feed belts to the heavy rail guns, which fired an 8mm bolt over the M19’s 3mm.

They reminded him of the Chosen heavy machine guns he’d used as a trooper.

He checked everything again, hitting the charge button on the guns as the bolts slid into place. Finally, he put his M19 along the small of his back before he scurried up the side of the tank faster than any man his size ought to.

“Damn, who is this guy? There’s no way to fire both of those,” Dodger said to Jarek, both of them with their helmets off.

“Ten denarii he can,” Jarek said.

“You’re the one who said he’s unbelievable. If he can, it’d be very interesting,” Dodger said, happily changing nets as Mark clambered up the Bellona with seeming ease and holding both rail guns under one arm.

The Bellona was large and squat, with barricades that created what looked like a series of trenches through the tank. Those gave the troopers more protection from the Maraukian fire and allowed the Bellona to carry legionnaires into battle. If it wasn’t for the barricades, then the legionnaires would be torn apart under the Maraukian fire.

“All right, spread out and cover a sector. We’re here as a quick reaction force and as extra eyes. Let’s get this done and come back for dinner.”

The suits spread out. Four clambered onto the turret and clamped themselves down, checking their arcs as the rest spread out from the first quarter of the tracks in a U-shape around the rear of the tank. Dodger clamped himself to the left rear of the tank with Mark beside him but lower due to the curve of the tank. Dodger looked over at the mountain of a man; his massive frame made the heavy rail guns look like the M19 he held. Grinning, he looked ahead as falling artillery and its impacts clearing the space around the hangar door around the base could be heard over the rumbling of the Bellona’s power plants.

Just as the last shell landed, the Bellona lurched forward. The hangar doors opening was signaled by the first Bellona’s gun firing. The Bellona tank’s main tribarrel turrets each accelerated four-ton shells to a meter per second, which made their thirty-two-thousand-ton bodies quiver with each shot. They were capable of firing a shell every ten seconds but a Bellona needed thirty while moving or else they could break apart. But that wasn’t its only weapon. The first tank erupted in fire as it cleared the hangar; hatches opened, revealing auto-launchers. The mounted close support domes came alive, heavy rail guns like the scythes of death itself as they left blue gore in their wake. Lasers engaged incoming plasma bolts, creating inverted mushroom clouds of plasma as they ripped the plasma’s atomic structure apart.

The Maraukians replied in kind with plasma, flechettes, and coilguns. The Maraukian Herd followed their commanders fire. Against the seven hundred thousand Maraukians, the first tank’s fire was drowned out, its reflective armor sparking and bubbling under the repeated hits.

It fired again, this time with the discarding flechette rounds from the rectangular barrels. For a kilometer in front of the tank, everything died.

The second tank emerged, firing its rectangular barrel as well, adding to the toll. The tanks moved their barrels to cover set arcs with their secondaries taking over the same arcs.

Mark and Dodger, on the third tank, rolled out. The main gun firing rattled Mark to the bone as he peered around the side of the tank. The barrel turned to cover the rear, now right above his and Dodger’s heads.

Sarah checked his grav clamp as he settled both of the heavy rail guns in his biceps. Sarah locked his arms up, leaving only his trigger fingers free and making it so he had to move his upper body to aim the guns.

Mark closed his eyes, remembering the anger he’d felt as his Bellona rolled to the open door. He felt the cold clarity that merging brought. As he opened his eyes, he knew what to do. He leaned over the side, Sarah highlighting red carets as he faithfully fired. Each target was a herd commander. 8mm bolts ripped them apart in seconds, leaving their herd momentarily stumped and looking around, confused, as if they’d woken up from a deep sleep into the middle of a war.

Panic set in and they started to shoot wildly, hitting the tanks, the legionnaires, and their own. It would continue until they were killed or another commander could wrestle them into their own herd.

As commanders paused to take over a new herd, Sarah would caret their power supplies hidden underneath their limbs. The 8mm bolts ripped through the power cores, disrupting their normal pathways and adding the power of the rounds’ kinetic energy, turning them and anything within two hundred meters into dust, leaving only a crater behind.

Bellona armor shrugged off the heaviest plasma and coilgun rounds on its frontal armor; the side’s weaker, more maneuverable armor for the tracks got damaged in places, leaving the outer tracks and wheels exposed. The two-story wheels underneath weren’t easily destroyed but the Bellona designers had made sure the tank kept rolling, with the four internal tracks taking up the slack if the outer tracks where too damaged to continue.

“Damn, I love firepower.” Dodger ducked behind the curve of the tank’s hull. His NIAI was interlinked with the other suit wearers on the hull, each taking out carets assigned to them as they came up.

“Especially our firepower,” Mark said, his tone cold. He leaned over the barricade as the commander put an alert out; the suit wearers turned their weapons on a group of unlucky Maraukians that had made it through the tanks’ defenses, meeting the rifles and heavy rail guns of the close protection force.

Evocatus Poole grunted as one of the Maraukian normal’s flechette launchers found its mark, catching the evocatus’s leg and sending him tumbling off the hull toward the advancing Maraukians.

Mark and Sarah’s anger flared as they saw herd commanders already changing their aim toward Evocatus Poole. Sarah careted the nearest ones as Mark fired on them before he dropped the rail guns. Sarah disengaged the magnetic clamps on the ammunition boxes, dropping them as Mark ran down the trench, behind the barricades. Mark jumped on one side of the trench to get the height he needed to get over the barricade.

He pushed off the tank; Sarah used the powered armor’s systems to shorten his travel time between the tanks. Rounds and explosions followed his path. Mark hit the ground, not pausing for a moment as rounds sparked around him.

A missile buried itself into the ground, exploding and peppering Mark with shrapnel. He grunted as some of it made its way through. Medical needles injected drugs into his system.

“Evasion pattern.” Mark’s legs blurred as he ran erratically, headed for Poole, as he pulled his M19 from the small of his back. Carets lit his HUD as he killed the commanders firing closest to Poole but there were too many of them.

“Taking control.” Mark slapped his rifle across his back as his legs blurred. Sarah removed the limiters on the suit, pushing past the maximum speed. Mark could feel the muscle and the bones giving way in his legs but he pushed on. Sarah injected him with painkillers and anything to keep him moving.

A herd commander slower than the rest now began firing in a line toward Poole; his herd followed his aim. Poole grunted as he used his rifle to try to raise himself but fell back to the ground.

“Faster,” Mark demanded. A timer in his HUD counted down his power supply within thirty seconds of failure. He dismissed it. Anger rose in him at his inability as he and Sarah pushed even harder. They pulled everything they could from the suit—shutting down sensors and cutting off power to the arms and neck; they put it all into the legs, accelerating faster and faster. The servos let off the acrid smell of burning power relays and polymers. They crossed a hundred meters in the blink of an eye. Sarah controlled it so they stayed on their feet as Mark grabbed Poole. He slung him over his back and jumped, driving all of the remaining power into the leg servos and anti-gravity, hurling him and Poole over the curve of the turret. Sarah linked with the other suits on the hull, using their anti-grav systems to make his fall easier as Mark’s strained.

Poole and Mark slammed into the barricade and dropped to the ground, both of them groaning in pain.

“Fucking crazy bastard. What’s yours and Poole’s sitrep?” Dodger asked, now using one of Mark’s heavy rail guns.

“Poole’s lost his left leg below the knee, and his right foot. Currently, I have quite a bit of damage to my legs, arms, and abdominals. I need to recharge and have you got my rail guns there?”

“Yeah. You sure you’re fine to keep fighting?”

“Nope, but what the fuck else am I going to do?”

“All right, power on the way with your rail gun. I’m going to shift people around.”

“Understood.” Mark lay on the tank. Someone checked him over before hooking his suit up to a heavily shielded anti-matter battery to fill his power reserves as he checked the heavy rail gun they brought with them.

They moved to help, the medico working on Poole. His suit had compressed around the wounds, creating a tourniquet that stopped him from bleeding out. However, he was in a lot of pain and he still needed aid for secondary injuries.

Mark cocked the rail gun. He crouched and moved up to the barricade.

“All right, get me some targets, Sarah.”

“You idiot. Your body’s shot to hell and you want to keep on fighting?”

“As I told Dodger, what the hell else am I going to do?”

“It’s a goddamned miracle you aren’t dead right know. I’m using the drugs of your powered armor, your combat pumps and augments to deal with the damage.”

“Are we going to keep fighting or do you want to give me those targets?”

“Sending targets.”

The Bellona and their turrets had seemed to go into overdrive. Mark hadn’t noticed the fire, he’d been so focused on his run, but this fire had saved his own life as the Bellona, the camp’s artillery, and the protection force killed thousands of Maraukians in a matter of seconds.

Mark saw the targets. He took a deep breath, rising and aiming over the barricade, firing onto the Maraukians. After a few long bursts, he’d duck back down, move position, check Sarah’s targets and do it all over again.

Five minutes later, there was another close call. One tank had been gutted when a herd commander had used their herd to soak up the artillery as they charged in with heavy plasma cannons and coilguns. Inside the killing zone of the turrets, they’d opened fire at knife-fighting range, destroying the armor covering the rear area of the Bellona. The close protection force killed them all as the tank commander had revved the engines up fully. He’d ordered his crew and the close protection force to move to the nearest tank as he turned it toward the mass of Maraukians and ejected himself.

The commanders kept on firing at the Bellona, its weapons on automatic as it spent all of the ammunition it could. The Maraukians finally penetrated the rear they’d been shooting at, getting through honeycombed armor underneath and finding the ammunition compartment.

The normal loadout for a Bellona was eighty flechette rounds, twelve anti-ship rounds, a sensor round, twenty-five shrapnel artillery shells, and two anti-matter area denial weapons. Altogether, it was about a ton and a half of anti-matter or twenty-three megatons of TNT. The crew had flushed the fusion power plants before sending it toward the Maraukians, which, if they hadn’t, would’ve put the explosion closer to three times the ammunitions’ explosive power. As the Maraukians found the shells, the blow-out panels worked as best as possible but the honeycomb armored structure had already been compromised. Most of the explosion’s power was soaked up by having to work its way out of super-reflective armor and armorite plating but it was still too little to stop the explosion. The Bellona erupted in a mushroom cloud, vaporizing everything in five kilometers and incinerating anything up to ten kilometers away. Sections of Camp Epsilon had to be evacuated as the searing heat turned the armorite walls to red-hot slag. The crew was safely behind defenses and the two other Bellona with it shook it off. The close protection detail were less lucky, being thrown around by the blast.

The rest of the Bellonas made short work of the surviving Maraukians, as shook up as they were. Two suits with the Death Dealers and Ape Killers were killed, with over half of the eighty-man close protection force sporting some kind of injury as they were thrown all over the place.

“Damn and the tracks are still left,” Mark said as Sarah brought up a view of the Bellona which had exploded. The tank tracks were still there with most of the frontal armor, and sections of the sides.

“They did make them to survive a lot.”

“I’d say. Too bad they couldn’t rebuild it.”

“It’s going to take a week tops before they can have it operational.”

Mark whistled as the view changed on his HUD, showing him robots already rushing to pick up parts of the Bellona spit over the base and desert.

“We’re returning to the hangar. You’re booked for a nanite tank. I’ve got a painkiller injection ready. If you have it, you will not be combat effective.”

“All right, get me Dodger.”

“Optio, I’m just taking a painkiller injection. My NIAI informs me I might become combat ineffective for a short period.”

“All right, inject up. The cleanup’s going to be rather simple. Then we’re going nest hunting.”

“Yes, Optio. Mark out.”

“Nests?” Mark felt a prick on his arm and then a soothing cool feeling running through his body.

“Maraukians can drop a brood of twelve every month. The caretakers look after them and prepare them for battle as the Maraukian herd moves. It takes three months for a brood to reach maturity.”

Mark was only half listening; the drugs were taking effect as his body became warm and tingly. He started spacing out as people dragged him off the tank.

Medicos put him on a grav sled, which added to the line of medical sleds drifting down the corridor to the med bay.

He looked up at a female medico; she had deep-brown hair tied back in a ponytail that fell over her shoulder. She had exotic almond-shaped eyes; her mouth and forehead were creased in concentration. He had never seen anyone as beautiful, though he was on drugs and was waiting for a sober opinion.

“I should have guessed. Hello in there, Mark.” She rapped on his helmet. A mono-blade dagger appeared in her hand as she slashed both of the legs. Mark knew he should be alarmed but he was too high off happy juice to care why she had a mono-blade dagger and was using it with blinding speed in regions he couldn’t see.

“Tryna get my pants off already?” He grinned, trying to keep his eyes open.

“Seems you burnt out the servos and all the electronics in your legs,” she said with an air of frustration, smacking the suit’s solar plexus. It opened but the mechanisms inside were so busted up she had to pull it open the rest of the way.

“Hey, how’s it going, Doc?” Mark said with a wink and a lazy grin.

“How many painkillers have you given him?” Ava queried Sarah.

“All of them.” Sarah came through the suit’s speakers in the same frustrated tones. “His legs are gone. He’s got compound fractures, stress fractures, muscles blown out, tendons are snapped. Abdominals are messed up too. Feeding you a scan.”

“Damn.” Ava looked impressed.

“It’s not that bad,” Mark said, still in his suit and grinning. “Traitor.”

“Idiot,” Sarah shot back.

“Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD! I should let you put yourself back together. For a full repair, this is going to take weeks. It might even be easier to cut off your legs and put on new ones.”

Mark grimaced. “Been there, done that. No thank you—I’d like to keep the third ones please.”

“THIRD?”

“Long story.” He yawned.

Her eyes blazed at the grinning Mark, the stare like water on him.

They’d reached the med bay, Mark realized in some small part of his brain.

She sighed, taking her gauntlets off and attaching them to her suit. She opened a nanite vat above Mark’s head. “Might as well get the nanites started.” She manipulated a control panel as Mark was picked up out of his open armor and inserted into the nanite vat head first.

“A little warning first!” he murmured into the space that cleared around his ears, nose, mouth, and eyes. The nanites were like silver water moving without regard to physics as they encapsulated him, eating away his stolen fatigues, rapidly changing from frigid cold to match his temperature. They hummed around him, getting a more detailed scan of his body than Sarah had given Ava, and then moved to set bones, close wounds, reconnect tendons, and rebuild muscles and nerves.

***

While Mark was assessed by the nanite vat and received immediate care, Ava tended to a legionnaire with severe burns.

Just as she’d finished, Kela sent a holographic image through her optical nerves.

“What’re these—readings from his brain?” She bit her lower lip in confusion.

“The neural interfacing nanites have become intertwined with his neural pathways, actually in between the synapses.”

“Wouldn’t that mean they wouldn’t be able to send messages?”

“They should but the nanites are acting as a link, sending the messages thousands of times faster. It would explain how he was able to attain three hundred meters per second.”

“What? Well, that would explain the ruined legs. Can we remove the nanites?”

“No. They’re embedded in his neural network and his brain is already compensating to deal with the new changes.”

“What will this mean for him?”

“He’s going to be the fastest human in the known galaxy. With a body filled with shrapnel, scar tissue, some half working organs and joints that are already wrecked by changing gravities too much too fast.”

“We can heal all of that though?” Ava said, confused.

“We can, but every time Sarah and he merge and he uses the power of his suit instead of his own body to move the powered armor, he’s going to destroy his own body.”

“Ouch. Is there any way we could help him use this new speed?”

“He needs a full body mod,” Sarah said, opening up a NIAI net.

Ava had dealt with it more often than not with patients but there was something overpowering about Sarah’s voice. It wasn’t robotic or dulled like when Ava talked to other NIAIs. It was as if she were a person or an AI talking face-to-face with her but overpowering, as if she were a lecturer trying to bring some students around before judgment would be brought down on their heads. She seemed to take over her brain more than Kela would, even.

“Why?” Her voice sounded feeble compared to the NIAI’s.

“If he doesn’t and we continue to merge, he will die.”

“Merge?”

“As you’ve seen, the nanites that a NIAI would use to monitor the user’s brain waves are now interlinked directly into his brain. When we merge, the connections between the NIAI processors or my core and the thoughts and ideas of his brain become interlinked. Every thought he has, I know instantly. If I can isolate his brain patterns, then I can answer questions or do things for him before he even thinks about it. Instant information on the battlefield, communications with anyone, fire plans for fire support: anything I am connected to, I can access for him. The nanites speed up his brain as well, meaning he has faster reflexes and he can truly multitask. He can be killing Maraukians while calling in a fire support mission and creating a plan for a fallback position and coordinating with other people and units.”

“We can’t give him a full body mod.”

“I see that. For the kind of work he’d need, he’d need to be in a Roma facility. Even then, there is knowledge I have that no doctor has done before. Mark is only adding to it as he’s connected to the net. Mark and I are already evolving. In order for him to survive, he needs massive body modifications. It will be unlike anything seen before, though we will need you to unlock the nanites.”

Ava hissed. “You know why no one would think of doing that. I’ve read about the rogue nanite weapon techs.”

“We’re not going to send them as a rampaging, self-materializing cloud around the base and onto the world.”

“To control an unlocked nanite tank, you need to be a level four morph at least. I’m only a level three.”

“We can deal with it easily.”

“You’re both untested as morphs.”

“He’s going to love this,” Sarah said dryly.

Ava felt a building hum through her link with Mark’s nanite tank.

“Onetwothreefourfive, six…seven,” Kela said as fast as the morph levels raced past Ava’s face. All color drained from it as she looked at the tank and the unmoving body of Mark.

“He’s a level seven morph, Kela?”

“Yes. I don’t even think he was working for it. He’s already surpassed us by leaps and bounds, his body is made up of nanites after all.”

Morph levels were given to people who could work with nanites by the swarm, which was one mother nanite told the other nanites—about a hundred thousand—to do a specific job. If you could control ten swarms, you were a level one morph. You were awarded a higher morph level as you increased the amount of nanites you could manipulate by a magnitude. This made Mark not four times, but four magnitudes more powerful than Ava.

“We estimate for us to complete a full body modification, it will take three days. He’s already picking out what he wants to do, and that’s why I’m talking and not him. Though he did say for safety’s sake you should have the incinerator on a separate system, just in case. Preferable a manual one as we can access anything connected.”

“I’m going to have to ask someone higher.”

“I’ll get Legatus Pullo for you.”

“Huh? Wai—”

Kela informed her she was now connected with the legatus through Sarah.

“Medico Desialias, I’m told I’m being relayed through Mark’s NIAI Sarah?” Pullo’s tone turned the statement into a question.

“Yes, sir. It’s about Mark wanting to perform a full body modification.”

“Why would he need that?”

“As far as I can tell, he and his NIAI have become interlinked and if he doesn’t have it, he’ll still be faster but his body won’t be able to deal with the stresses and will consistently fall apart.”

“Ouch. So I guess he has a plan to fix this.”

“Yes, sir. He wants to perform a body modification. I don’t know who’ll...”

“Mark and I can perform the body modification on ourselves,” Sarah interjected.

“How severe will this body modification be?” Pullo’s voice was serious.

Ava heard the worry in the man’s voice—strange from the man who was more similar to an ice block than a person, many said.

“We believe he will never be able to become a human again,” Sarah replied.

Ava turned to the calm nanite tanks, which belayed the severity of the decision its occupant was making.

“Mark.”

“Yes, boss?” Nothing moved in the tank as Mark’s thoughts were turned to speech.

“You sure about this?”

“If this works out how I plan, I might be able to give you an assault force.”

“That does sound nice,” Pullo said, dismissing it, “but are you sure you want to change your body this much?”

“If I don’t, I’m going to be a permanent patient. We both know I stopped being human a long time ago.” Mark’s voice was husky.

“All right. Ava, set up the incinerator. Mark, keep your damned self alive.”

“It’s what I’m good at.” The gruffness in his voice made Ava wonder what he was talking about.

“Once the incinerator’s set up, you may begin.”

Ava pulled the incinerator’s manual red button out so it extruded from the vat tank’s side. Covering it with her hand, she put her other hand into the nanites, creating a direct connection. She accessed Kela directly, stopping the vat’s security protocols, and then moved to the nanites’ internal security locks. Her breath escaped in a whoosh as she released them.

The nanites that had been moving stopped dead. Slowly and then faster, she felt another presence taking over. It was like watching a tsunami. She thought it would stop but it kept going, the same power touching every nanite. She felt it grow then pause; the power turned into action as nanites raced through the vat, mapping Mark’s body down to the molecule. They flowed over his body, concentrating on his brain and solidifying the connections between the nanites and the synapses. For a few minutes, they waited.

“All right, if the nanites do anything but destroy and rebuild my brain, destroy them.”

“Huh? Wha—” Horrified, she watched as nanites ate his skull and then started making structures that Ava couldn’t understand or had ever seen in a brain, destroying sections as the combined organic and inorganic structures took up the slack of the old brain. Ava watched the monitoring equipment as it showed the systems interacting perfectly. The NIAI armband disappeared as Sarah took up residence inside of his skull too. Time seemed to slow for Ava as the nanites worked at a fevered pace.

“All right, now time for the trimmings.”

She watched, mesmerized, as nanites went down his spine, replacing it with an inorganic and organic structure. At the same time, his body was pulled apart, divided and began changing. Millions of nanites got to work as they kept all the organs functioning, including Mark’s brain and linked NIAI unit. Organs were replaced or changed. A new heart was grown as well as secondary organs; the blood turned from red to gray as muscles were strengthened. Skin was formed with thin layers of carbon hendral plating.

Even with the changes that were still going on, the scars and the tattoos formed on the skin. Shrapnel which had been inside of his body for too long was pulled out and destroyed by the nanites, probably flowing back into his body as something else.

“Ava, you should take a rest. I’m sorry—I was so concentrated on working, but you’re close to collapse.”

Mark’s tone was strangely calm, Ava thought, as the man was taking apart his own body.

“I haven’t been here long. It’s only been a few minutes.”

“Interesting. Merging must have an effect on linked people,” Mark said, lapsing into thought.

“Huh?” Ava said, bringing him back onto the subject.

“Ah yes, well, it might seem like a few minutes. I think it might have to do with me being merged and thus processing everything faster. Your brain takes everything as being slower to compensate messing up your perception of time.”

“The point?”

“It’s been two days since I got to the med bay.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, sorry. My fault, I believe. If you want, I can do something about not feeling like total crap when you disengage.”

“All right.” She feared coming out after two days. She felt a cool sensation spreading and then a gradual feeling of feeling better and then the cold retreating.

“Okay, that’s it. I’ve done all of the pulling apart, anyway. Now it’s just the rebuilding so it won’t freak anyone out, hopefully. Get some rest, Medico.”

“You’ve got it.”

She drifted away from the tank, feeling herself coming back into her body. She opened her eyes, instantly feeling more tired than she could ever remember.

“Ava?” Danielle, Ava’s fellow medico in the Death Dealers, rushed to Ava’s side. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, just tired.” Ava looked at her recalcitrant legs, which seemed to not want to work for some odd reason.

“Here, get on this and sleep. Everything’s fine.” Danielle read her thoughts as she guided Ava onto the sleeping pallet beside Mark’s vat.

“Look in on him, though don’t get weirded out—he’s just a half-formed skeleton with organs everywhere.”

“Okay...” Danielle said.

Ava looked at Mark’s vat, the swirling nanites the last thing she saw as sweet Morpheus took her.

***

“All right, lungs almost done—just time for the Lego part,” Sarah reported to Mark as she ran the grudgingly long scan of his entire body.

“Think it’s going to be interesting with two of us in here,” Mark said.

“Don’t worry. There is plenty of room—you sure aren’t using it,” Sarah said cheerfully.

“Watch it,” Mark growled back, feeling a grin on his phantom lips.

“What the heck?” the fourth watcher since Ava left said as they looked in on Mark.

“Calm down there, watcher. I’m almost done.” Mark saw the watcher’s hand suspiciously close to the incinerator control.

Mark pulled his bones together, now with a carbon hendral center, which would replace the soft bone. Then came the muscles and tendons, highly dense and filled with miniature servos to get the most out of every movement. Then the organs attached them and tested them in sequence, pumping them with everything necessary. Then came the skin. The multiple layers settled down, growing together as the scraps of Mark’s old skin stretched to fit his bigger form being etched into the skin. A tattoo marked him as a trooper, with another underneath with M, A&T with a V backing it were stenciled into his now gray skin.

Systems were coming online; other processes were growing.

“Scan please?”

“Everything looks functional. Growth rates are good,” Sarah said after a few seconds as she checked the sensors littered throughout his body and used the vat’s sensors as well. “So are we blowing this popsicle stand or what?”

“I guess so. If you please, Sarah.”

“With pleasure.”

The bottom of the tank opened with the nanites faithfully staying inside the tank, their security locks now re-engaged, as Mark went out feet first. Boots and clothing formed on his body as he left the tank. Finally all of the way out of the tank, Sarah used the grav lift to bring him upright as he put his feet on the floor.

He shook his hands, opening and closing them, and studying his arms as Sarah linked him to the sensors in the med bay, displaying it through his visual processors. He opened his eyes and looked down on himself as his now ingrained HUD came to life, overlaying his view.

He was now two feet taller than before to fit everything in, standing at a dominating eight foot five and with the muscle mass he’d had in his prime to fit. He weighed over seven hundred pounds and he knew he’d be closer to nine hundred once all of his systems had replaced the old. He moved his limbs, turning and bouncing. It was strange; it wasn’t the body he’d had for nearly thirty-eight years but it felt as if it were. His peripherals saw 270 degrees, with sensors in his skin showing the rest. He could zoom up to objects three kilometers away. His blue veins were now gray with a bio-nanite plasma. The nanites moved away from his hands as he touched the scars covering his body, including the tattoos on his shoulder. He smiled sadly to himself as the painful memories washed over him, letting himself remember for a few moments before he cut off the memories. They’d haunt him in the night, anyway, and he would have revenge.

Mark looked to the sleeping form beside his vat. “Even when I’m not loopy on drugs, she’s a good-looking girl.”

“Well, ask her out once she wakes up,” Sarah teased.

“No,” he thought-spoke. Memories of others who had got close filled his mind. He couldn’t take it again.

And there’s no way in hell a girl like that would want a dude like me. Mark gave Sarah an order before she could say anything. “Sitrep?”

“Pullo is currently on his way. He’s got protection, so nothing fast—should be here in a minute and a half. Also, I have a meal already on its way here a few minutes behind him as to not freak the guards out too much.”

“Thanks.” The feeling of hunger was catching up with him; after all, there was little in his systems. There were others who needed the organic resources more.

His biological systems could survive for weeks, with his inorganic systems supplying their needs. He didn’t need much food, everything he consumed was broken down, refined and stored, after filling up his resource reservoirs of different materials he could happily burn through them over a long period of time. His biggest need wasn’t organic energy but direct electrical power. This could be gained through solar diodes on his skin, the organic material bio reactors or heat-dissipating power systems.

However, he needed to have something in his systems to start. Right now, he had barely any organic materials running through his body.

Four powered armor-wearing legionnaires marched in, their weapons pointed at the ground but ready moving. Pullo walked in after them, wearing another suit, his helmet clamped to his chest plate.

“Hello, Mark.”

“Pullo, do you want to move this to the supply closet down the corridor to put everyone at ease? Wounded and on-edge bodyguards don’t mix, I know.” Mark pitched his voice so Pullo could hear him but not the bodyguards.

“What a brilliant idea.” Pullo’s eyes went distant for a second, his men already reorganizing as Pullo gestured to the door. Mark took the lead, seeing as he knew where the hell he was going.

Once they were inside, with two guards inside and the other two outside, Pullo sat on a pallet of rations. Mark hardened the nanites on his legs to make it feel as if he were sitting in mid-air.

“Showboating, I see, Mark.”

“Me? Never, Sergeant,” Mark said, shocked.

The two of them hugged, something that made the bodyguards nervous.

“Last time I saw you was on Sacremon. As I remember it, you were as dead as dead can be.” Mark looked over his old section commander.

“Kind of.” Pullo took a seat, scratching his head. “The legion hires from the troopers. They watch every battle we have. If one of their possible recruits gets badly hurt, they make it look like they’re dead, pull our asses away, heal us up and offer us a place in the legion. It’s not a bad gig.”

“That explains a few things.” Mark thought of the ship he’d woken up in on Fernix, and then the other one he’d come to in, being transported to a station that he’d never seen in his life.

“You’ve been slated for recruiting for a long time. Nerva was a recruiter,” Pullo said.

“He’s alive?” Mark’s mind did flips as he looked at Pullo.

“Yes, he is. He’s one of the first legionnaires ever, and the longest serving recruiter of troopers. He’s brought in more troopers than anyone else. When he died serving the Earth Military Force, he was actually recalled back to the legion and Roma. He’s been fighting the Maraukians ever since.”

“Where is he?” Mark couldn’t believe his old commander, a man he thought of as a father, was still alive.

“At his estates in the Hellenic system. He went to Earth to try to get you, Tyler, and Alexis. It looked like all three of you were dead. He took it pretty hard, blames himself,” Pullo said. “I’m sorry about your losses.”

Mark looked away, scratching his head to hide his itchy eyes. He put the pain of losing his brother and sister-in-law away. He’d deal with it later. Right now, he needed to know his new situation and see whether it affected what was left of his family.

“Thanks.” Mark cleared his throat and got his emotions back under control. “So what happens now?”

“To confirm, were you the person who stowed yourself aboard a supply shuttle and disabled four suits with daggers?”

“Yes,” Mark confirmed.

“Are you the person who stole a suit worth 250 million credits, later destroying it and its replacement? Stealing a NIAI at the same time?”

“Is that how much it cost?”

Pullo nodded slightly in answer.

“Well then, yeah, I guess I am the guy who destroyed them, though I was using them to defend your troops.”

“I would like to say I have now picked Mark and seeing as we’re kind of in the same body, it would be hard for me to go back.” Sarah used an integrated sensor in Mark; she’d asked for it and Mark had agreed.

“All right, I can write the suits off as I can’t put a price on people’s lives. Still, according to the bean counters, including the power and material usage from the nanite tanks, you owe approximately 300 million credits, which by the exchange rate into Earth credits, would be 800 million credits.”

“Yowch.” Mark grimaced.

“It seems you have two options. One, you try to find the credits to pay off this debt.” Pullo gave Mark a considerable look. On Sacremon, they had saved a CEO, splitting a couple million credits. When Pullo had seemingly died, with his second-in-command, Gupta, Mark and his friend Jerome had taken on that money and used it to create the Victor Corporation.

“Or you re-enlist and show me how I can make an assault force.”

“Well, depends what kind of job you’re offering,” Mark replied.

“Interesting.” Sarah picked up on a hidden thought Mark had. “You own that?”

“Yes, fifty percent and paid off.”

“Nice.”

Pullo got himself into a comfortable position before he began.

“Around seven hundred years ago, someone found signals from a human planet. It was called Roma, based in the Hellenic system. Earth and Her Colonies determined they wanted to know what was going on. So they sent the Earth Military Force. They found a civilization that seemed to have been pulled from Rome and left to grow. They were advanced but they had remained on their planet for centuries. The EHC wanted to use them to make products and advance themselves. Eight months after the EMF arrived, things turned to shit. The humans weren’t the only things on the planet. Buried underground were creatures in a state of hibernation.”

Mark’s jaw worked but he nodded.

“Eight months after the EMF arrived, the bastards pulled themselves out of their hidden warrens and headed right for the nearest population centers. The troopers and the small legion of the planet fought the Maraukians. The EMF higher-ups wanted to cut and run. The troopers rebelled. They had bonded with the legion and the Roma people. They fought for two years, bleeding the Maraukians across Roma. Three billion people were reduced to less than a hundred million.

“They lost so much. Most of their cities were destroyed but they were able to stave off disaster and work to destroy the Maraukian nests so they would never come back.

“As they secured Roma, they used the Earth Military Force’s Carriers or EMFCs that had been left behind to move across the system, expanding across their system, harvesting resources and materials to fuel a technological revolution.

“They had an explosion of technology. After two hundred years or so, they had built their own craft, one based off the Alcubierre drive, allowing them to move at faster-than-light speeds, and the first generation of Neural Interfacing Artificial Intelligence.

“They went out to search for answers. They found other inhabited systems, covered with humans. They reported the same Maraukians moving about. The EMF personnel were now full-fledged legionnaires; they readied for a fight and they got it—the Maraukians. Once the legion landed on a planet seeded with humans, they would find Maraukians popping up right afterward.

“Some of these planets were more advanced than Rome but hadn’t reached the stars. Others had been fighting among themselves so much their level of progression had become stagnant.

“The legion needed more fighters. Nerva was one of the first people to go to Earth. He landed in the slums; he picked out people who would be an aid to Roma’s legion. If they were wounded or near death, then legion personnel hiding nearby were able to swoop in, take them and help them out. It gave the people of the EMF a second chance at life and it gave the legion people who had been in combat and didn’t need much more training to become legionnaires.

“Since then, the Ninth has grown to thirty-nine occupied solar systems and has a military strength of fifteen percent of those occupied worlds. Every person over the age of eighteen has also served a mandatory two years’ service.”

“That’s some serious military power,” Mark said, Sarah supplying him with numbers on his HUD.

“Biggest green machine in the known galaxy.”

“Sheesh.”

“So, want to join? You won’t get paid until you pay off the vat resources, though you’ll have meals and housing from the military.”

“Sounds good. Otherwise I might spend the rest of my life on a damned transport, never paying back my debt. Though I have a condition.”

“What would that be?”

“With my new body, I can no longer use the normal powered armor. I’m going to need to make my own.”

“That could take years.”

“It could but I was thinking in the ballpark of six months by myself from design to final suit. In for a penny, in for a pound, Sergeant.”

Pullo supported his chin with his hand as he looked at the ground thoughtfully. “You’re the only one who can use the suit anyway. What use would it have other than for you?”

“I can give others the ability to become merging capable, coupled with a body modification. I will only accept people I believe ready to not be human anymore and to wear the suit. Suits that emphasize the abilities a merging capable user has: improved speed, reaction time, capable of self-repair of both user and suit, armor and weaponry to fight toe-to-toe with Maraukians. Suits that could let us take the fight to the Maraukians, not wait in a base to soak up the casualties and attack them with Bellona.”

“Looks like you’ve done some research.” Pullo’s eyebrow rose in question.

“I had some time.” Mark shrugged.

“Sounds ambitious, but I can see you’re going to do it with or without my say-so. Have something on my desk in a week and I’ll submit it higher. You have a month and a half to see if you can make anything of this idea.”

“Understood.”

“You’ll need to pass the refresher course we have running as well.”

“Expected as much.” Mark sighed.

“So I take this as you’ll join as a legionnaire?”

“Yeah, as long as I can make my damned suit.”

The corners of Pullo’s mouth quivered. “Okay, here are your orders.” Pullo sent the information in a compressed file through his NIAI.

“Until your training, you are free to roam the base. Your quarters will be with the DD, seeing as you’ve had previous dealings with them.”

“Works.”

“It’s good to see you again, Mark.” Pullo rose and left with his guards.

Mark followed a few minutes after, his food tray being held by a drone. “Nice spread,” he thought-spoke to Sarah as he went back in the med bay, looking at the massive array of food.

“I got it made to fit your new nutrient requirements.”

“Nice.” He dug into what looked like a steak, vegetables, and potatoes, quickly devouring them. He allowed some of his nanites to fall from the shirt; they looked as if they were pulling apart his food and being reabsorbed into his shirt. They’d break down the food, sending it through his nanite-plasmid bloodstream to the areas it needed to be. Meaning by the time he’d eaten a plate of food, his body was absorbing the nutrients from the rest of the food.

“So looks like you’re a soldier again,” Sarah said as Mark stood, patting his stomach.

“At least this time I’m fighting for humanity and I know my enemies.”

“Why would you join another military after what you’ve been through already?”

Mark’s uniform changed to the right specifications as he walked toward the simulation area. Information passed through his HUD as he started to brainstorm about the suit. The major difference between his fatigues and those of the legionnaires around him was how his were as black as night. This and the fact his veins that traced his neck and hands were silver garnered looks and whispers from everyone as he walked.

“Weird, though—the way Pullo said it just made it sound like I was joining the Earth Military Force again. Not a legion that’s been missing for two and a half thousand years, believed to be defeated in Scotland but was actually just sitting in space keeping Earth and humanity safe. Without them ever knowing. It’s impressive and it’s damned unbelievable. I don’t think I would’ve believed it unless I spent three days absorbing information from the base’s data banks.”

“You’re still going to join up with them? You could focus on your venture.”

“Well, I was always a sucker for the posters: visit different and beautiful places, meet new people, discover new things, and kill them. Plus, it seems they’ve got decent food. All right, so seeing as my retirement’s over, I think it’s time we start on what we want this suit to be able to do.”

“For one, it’s going to need a hyper-complex storage and processing network to keep up with you, servos to let you move at rapid speeds…”

***

Ava woke slowly on the pallet in the med bay. She looked at the nanite vat beside her. “Where’s Mark?”

“He’s in the simulation area. Working on something apparently.” One of the medics nearby shrugged and turned back to their console.

“So he’s finally done.” She was a bit annoyed she hadn’t been awake to see him come out of the vat. “Shower, food, and then I’ll see what the hell he’s done to himself.”

Her stomach complained from a lack of food.

Maybe food first.

***

She walked into the simulation area, nibbling on some energy bars she’d grabbed after her heaping tray full of food.

The simulation area consisted of nanite bubbles suspended in anti-grav. These nanites were connected to a main computer, which gave them a scenario to mimic for the user, down to the wind, dust, and bugs. The bubbles could speed up the reality of those inside so it would feel as though it were a week but outside it would be three and a half days.

She walked in the women’s section, undressing and putting everything into an allotted locker. She walked straight into a nanite bubble, cold changing rapidly to her body temperature and adding the feeling of wearing clothing as she looked over a grassy plain.

“Connect me to Mark’s sim.”

“You can only watch. He’s going too fast for you to interact,” Kela warned.

“Okay,” Ava said warily. The grassy plain turned into Mark floating in the air. His arms moved erratically in a workroom bigger than him, yet he didn’t have to move to change anything—his arms were just the right length to get anything.

He was bigger than before. His hair had been cut down and his scruff was gone. He looked alert and focused.

She noticed his pointed ears. That’s weird.

“A mythological race called elves also had pointed ears. They were reclusive, with incredible organization and fighting skills,” Kela informed her.

Mark’s brown eyes found hers. They seemed to glow.

“Are you just going to sit there all day watching me?” Mark said through a private net. His voice sounded strange.

“No, I wasn’t staring.”

“I saw it from every possible angle. Plus, you’re in my simulation.”

“I was studying you. Definitely not staring,” she said stubbornly, tracking his net to find what was disrupting the communication. “Why are you routing your communications through the simulator’s main computer?”

“If I was to communicate with you using my upgrades, it would be extremely hard on your NIAI. If I was to do this at the four times speed I’m at right now, I’d overload its processor.”

“All right, so you’re faster. What else can you do now?”

“A lot. Here’s a brief.” A file appeared on her HUD. She opened it; notes cascaded out of it with information, statistics, and references to other projects—a book long by their own size. Kela highlighted the summary, which was three pages.

“Eighty-five percent of your body is modified or replaced. If you’re even capable of half of these things—hell, the nanite-plasma alone…do you know what this means?” Her voice wavered as she looked at Mark with new eyes.

“I’m a walking testament to technology and if I’m not killed by anything, I could live eons long? I will never have cancer or an illness, my organs can regrow themselves, and yes, I figured that out a long time ago.” The summary disappeared from the notes.

“Though someone will have to figure out how before I tell them,” Mark rumbled.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell everyone?”

“I’m a soldier, Ava. Always been fighting for my life and the lives of others. If people don’t want to put me on a battlefield to do what I’m trained to do because I can live for as long as I have power and nanites, then I’m damned well useless. It might show humans are idiots for using me on a battlefield if I get to one. But I’m doing what I want, not sitting around having scans, tests, and the like.”

“You really are an merger.”

“What?” Mark looked away for a second and then back.

“Pointed ears, live for a long time, and a fighter.”

“Sounds better than calling myself a merging capable entity.”

“Has a bit of a better ring to it,” Ava agreed. “If you want to keep this all a secret, why would you tell me?”

“Always one for the questions, aren’t you? Well, you were the one who let me do this so it’s my thanks, I guess. I also looked into your files. You wanted to be a legionnaire, but you got overruled and given a position as a medico. You took it, but you still want to be a legionnaire and I would bet you’d be a good one.” Mark held her eyes.

“Thanks.” Ava, embarrassed, looked away and played with her hands. Maybe owing him a life debt isn’t so bad. She looked back at him. He was an incredible fighter and there were secrets to him. Ava was silent for a time, feeling as though she were at a tipping point in her life.

She took a breath. “I owe you a life debt. I’ll keep your secret.”

“Ava, look at me.” He stopped moving frantically, changing to her speed as they came face-to-face.

Blood flared through her body at his closeness.

“You don’t owe me a life debt. I don’t care what the rules are; I will not have your life becoming nothing just because some old rule says that. I free you from a life debt or whatever.”

“A life debt...”

“Is not something one owing it or receiving it can null.” A whip-thin man, his face worn from a hard life, with a thin mustache on his upper lip and a sword at his waist, entered the space.

“Well, what the heck rained on Mark’s sim time?” he said angrily, returning to floating in the air with a look of annoyance on his face.

“Ava.” The thin man nodded his head slightly, which Ava returned more deeply as a sign of respect between the two.

“Teacher,” Ava said.

The man clasped hands in front of him, staring and judging Mark. Ava could see from his expression he was not impressed.

“Sorry. Mark, this is my Uncle Chyna. My teacher and protector,” Ava said.

“Good to meet you. So what was this you were saying about a life debt?” His hands continued to fly in front of him.

“A life debt is an unbreakable bond. I personally owe a life debt to Ava’s father. It’s called the lifebond by most.”

“Why do you have a life debt to him and how come you aren’t with him?”

“A life debt is given when one’s life is saved by a person who had no prior need to do so. A doctor will not get a lifebond from saving a patient, or a bodyguard for protecting their employer. I owe High King Hael Desialias a life debt for saving my life many years ago in a war against the Desoom city-state.” Chyna’s eyes darkened with memories.

“So she owes me a debt for helping her out?”

“Yes,” Chyna said.

Mark looked to Ava.

“Yeah.” Ava nodded. She didn’t like owing anyone anything.

“Is there any way to annul it?” Mark asked.

“No.” Chyna’s face hardened.

“So you’ll be what, my bodyguard?”

“You haven’t seen me fight yet,” Ava shot back, getting a glance from Chyna.

“We’ll figure it out,” Mark said, his hands still moving. “So what I don’t get is if you’re her protector, why aren’t you in the same unit as her?”

“Well, I’m a protector in as much as I’ll teach her to protect herself. I’m not going to be around always, so I teach her,” Chyna said.

“I like it. Better than having a mob of bodyguards around and having you defenseless, though there is something to be said about having support.”

“Well, if she needs it, she needs to learn to make friends who will provide her that support. Again...”

“You won’t always be around,” Mark finished for him.

“And it is, in fact, the reason I’m in your simulation as I was told my student was awake again and had rushed off to the simulation bubbles. We normally have our sparring lessons here as to spend less time and go through multiple scenarios.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Mark said.

Ava sensed he liked being alone.

“It seems that I will be teaching you on your refresher.” Chyna’s tone changed.

Mark looked at the man. “I know. It seems I have to report to Pullo’s office. Till later.” Mark gave a half nod and disappeared from the simulation.

“I wonder what he was working on,” Ava said as Chyna studied the air in which Mark had been hovering.

“I have no idea but it is time for a sparring lesson. You might have picked a better candidate to owe your bond to. He is crass and rude. I am his superior and he has little in the way of respect,” Chyna said.

“I’ve barely slept. We just pushed the Maraukians off an—”

Chyna’s sword was out of his sheath and came at her head with blinding speed. She rolled her sword, appearing from where she sheathed it as she parried, turning his blade and coming in on the attack.

“What. Is. With. People. Inter-upting. Me!” Ava yelled as she advanced her attack. Chyna just barely threw off the attacks as he was driven back.

***

“I was told Legate Pullo wanted to talk with me.”

Pullo’s protective detail opened the door before he’d stopped talking or walking, admitting him into Pullo’s office filled with fragrant cigar smoke. Pullo and Dodger smoked from their seats, and the newly promoted Centurion Michales looked on in mild disgust at the smoke.

“Gentlemen.” Mark sat in the middle seat in front of Pullo’s desk extremely slowly; it creaked as it bore his weight, barely holding together.

“Cigar?”

“Read my mind.” Mark took one from the offered box. His index finger changed into a mono-blade as he expertly cut the cigar; the finger transformed into a lighter as he took a few good puffs and sat back in his chair.

The others looked at him in surprise at the ease in which he’d changed his own body.

“So you can morph your body into items?” Dodger asked first.

“Yes, certain things. I hope to look into more modifications I can program but so far it’s just a few.”

“All right, so you say you have a plan?” Pullo inquired.

“Yes, but the very basics. I still believe I can get something ready in a few weeks of undisturbed time.”

“Well, for these gentlemen, could you please explain the very basics of what merging capable individuals would be able to do?”

“They could be an assaulting force against Maraukians instead of Bellona. Though it’s not without costs. Someone who can merge has to have the body modification or they will most likely die from the stress placed upon their bodies. Also, they can’t go back to being human—have the same body as before—once they complete the body modifications. They’ll become a vegetable or the AI network will refuse to put them into a body that will die from overstimulation and they’ll become a cyber.”

The room became tense as everyone seemed to lean in.

“You could deploy units of these merging capable people into the field and assault Maraukians?” Michales asked.

Pullo leaned back and let others ask questions. Mark gave him a knowing glance.

“Yes, with the right fire support, resupply, teamwork, and communication net, I believe I could give you a force able to go toe-to-toe with Maraukians.”

“How? They’d be ripped apart by a herd’s fire. Bellona aren’t armored everywhere because we just feel like it,” Pullo said.

“Yes, but that’s also because the Bellona is a tall target. Everything in a Maraukian herd can see it and thus shoot it. I might be taller and wider because of my body mod but I’m still not taller than a Maraukian, meaning only the first line of the herd will be able to see me and the other Elves.”

“Elves, eh?” Pullo grinned.

“Ava’s idea.” Mark sighed, knowing the name would stick.

“It’s basically the idea of a limited front: only their front rank can hit you and hopefully you can cut through the first rank and deeper. The Maraukian herd commanders stay back from the first ranks. They’re going to be an organized front,” Pullo said.

“Artillery, or specific shooters. The weapons I’m thinking of will not just be machine guns cutting down a few ranks of targets. They’ll be able to fire grenades, explosive rounds. Have sensors augment people’s vision. NIAI does the math—point and shoot,” Mark said.

Pullo held his chin in thought.

“The armor and weaponry you’d need to do that, though, would have to be generations ahead of what we have currently. Recharging would be a hell of a problem.” Dodger pointed with his cigar.

Mark took a liberal drag on his own cigar, letting it out in a huff. “Not really generations ahead. I just browsed through the AI databases and found what would make most of the suit up. The coding and some small parts are going to take a lot of work. The power source problem you aren’t going to like.”

***

“ANTI-MATTER!”

Centurion Flavos, in charge of Legate Pullo’s guard, was about to queue the door to open as he did a quick scan of the legate’s office. The three legionnaires looked at Mark in stunned silence as he puffed his cigar innocently. The adrenaline which flooded his system and made his mouth dry receded as he lowered his rifle. His second, Signifer Lorus, was at his back, stacked as fast as the centurion had reacted. Seemed the extra training had been a good investment of time, no matter the other guards’ bitching.

“False alarm,” Flavos said.

Lorus relaxed as they returned to their posts but Flavos kept an eye on the sensors feed.

***

“You’re damn right I don’t like it. It’s worth ten megatons of TNT.”

“The containment system is made to withstand fifteen megatons from the inside and twenty from the outside. No stray round’s going to set the thing off.”

“I still don’t like it, Mark.”

“Well, otherwise, we’re going to have to recharge—by my calculations—every ten minutes or so. With the anti-matter power source, it will last a hundred and fifty years of operating at maximum activity and we’ll be able to recharge other suits and weapon systems. I’m already thinking of two weapon systems that will take the power usage just a few times.”

“A weapon that uses a half pound of anti-matter a few times. That’s just awes...uh, scary.” Dodger’s eyes sparkled as he thought of what it might be.

“I’m going to have to bump this higher,” Pullo said after a few minutes.

“Thought you might.” Mark’s tone let the others know what he thought about “higher authority.”

“Until I get confirmation or denial, Mark, meet your training instructors.” Pullo ignored Mark’s comments and waved at Dodger and Michales, whose demeanor changed. They sat straighter, clearly surprised by the announcement and listening as they already began transforming into their roles. They now studied Mark closer, as if they could see his worthiness.

“Oh, I know. Sarah saw something was uploaded pertaining to me.”

“Seems you miss even less now,” Pullo said dryly. “What it didn’t include was, you’ll be put with a group coming from Roma, our home system, as replacements and a few recruited from Crisidium, one of two city-states on this planet—which, if you didn’t know, is called Tricticus.”

“Lovely. So, when do we get started?” Mark rubbed his hands together.

“In twenty minutes.” Dodger checked the time on his NIAI.

“Good luck with training,” Pullo said, clearly a dismissal.

With that, everyone but Pullo stood. Dodger and Michales saluted by hitting their left breast with their right fist, as Mark gave a straight-armed salute above his eyebrow.

Pullo returned the Roman style salute as they all put their hands down and walked out.

“Going to have to get the EMF parade shit out of your head,” Dodger said, happily falling into the role of instructor as the blast door closed behind them and they navigated their way to the simulation room.

“From whence we came, we shall return,” Sarah said wisely.

“Where’d you get that saying, off a beer bottle?”

“No, but you’d be surprised what some of them say,” Sarah said in a tone that made Mark think she’d be all too happy to tell him.

“I think I’m good for now.”

“All right, your loss.” She hummed before doing whatever she did when not talking to Mark, which meant looking up information useful to building “the suit.”

Mark separated himself from Dodger and Michales, and walked to where the candidates stood talking to one another. Talking stopped as Mark walked in. He’d made his nanites cover up the fact his blood was now silver, but his height and size—and the fact he wore black fatigues with no unit identification on them—made him different from everyone else.

Michales, Dodger, Chyna, and a few instructors Mark didn’t know walked through a door at the front of the room. Everyone turned their attention away from him.

“All right, we’re here to get the cobwebs out and make sure you’re ready for Tricticus.”

“All right, you know the drill—grab a sim bubble and we’ll get started.” Dodger picked up after Michales.

Mark didn’t bother taking his clothes off as they integrated into the simulator’s nanites. He came to a desert camp, a miniature version of Camp Epsilon. Mark guessed it must’ve been the basic layout for all of the legion’s bases. This one had one main dome with four separate domes connected by covered hallways, all of armorite.

“Seems too light.” Mark moved around.

“All right. Adjusted, two point three.”

Mark could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Thank you—just right.”

Everyone else appeared quickly afterward.

“All right, basic PT. Get running.”

Mark grinned as he started walking. He connected to the camp’s AI, which slowed his message as he passed it to the lowest ranked person of the trainers.

“How far?”

“As far as we say, candidate.”

“Certainly, Optio,” Mark said, Sarah supplying the rank. His grin became feral as he lowered his head, slowly picking up speed into a jog. He looked up, his eyes hungry.

“Dear gods,” Dodger said over the training commanders net as Mark’s hulk took off. He was jogging at fifty-five kilometers an hour and increasing, with ease. Dodger used his leader’s abilities, flying as he caught up with him. He saw Mark’s eyes were unfocused and his hands moved across his interface. “You’re going to tire out if you keep this up.”

“Dodger, this is my light jogging. I can run for three hundred and seventy-two hours. More if I am able to sleep and allow my NIAI to take over running.”

Dodger looked at Mark with a new light in his eyes as he recognized the other man was telling him the truth.

“This is sprinting.” Mark felt hormones and battle chemicals run through his body as he surged ahead. Eight hundred pounds of man accelerated to a hundred and thirty kilometers an hour.

He settled back down to jogging a few seconds later, with Dodger using his controls to catch up. Mark was back using his interfaces, a grin plastered across his face from the feeling of freedom the sprinting had given him.

“You pass the running portion.” Dodger sighed.

“Can I continue? It helps me focus,” Mark said.

“All right. I’ll notify you when we’re at the next stage.”

Mark nodded as he continued to run.

Dodger dropped back to the main pack.

“Did he just accelerate to over eighty kilometers an hour?” the optio Mark had contacted asked.

“Yes, and I have a feeling he was just having fun.”

“That’s just impossible. He has to be hacking,” another of the training cadre said.

“It’s not, though he has already. He’s under two point three gees right now.” Dodger shook his head as he looked at the readouts coming from Mark’s sim bubble. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

Next was some strength and endurance testing. Mark aced the tests using weight that would kill any normal human and break any bar not made from carbon hendral well before that. He lifted what equated to buses. More than one person was stunned as he would get up and float to somewhere, his interfaces out and always working on “the suit.”

***

Chyna was in charge of mono-blade training. Time to see how well he does against a real opponent, Chyna thought, calling Mark out.

The man walked into the sparring circle without a weapon in his hand.

“Recruit Victor, you were told to get a weapon. Please do so.” Chyna wondered whether the man was playing with him.

“I’m good.” Mark rolled his shoulders and twitched his triceps.

Insolent youngster. Chyna rushed forward, slicing at Mark.

Mark rolled his hands, coming to his sides, twin daggers in them.

Chyna turned and drove his sword back.

Mark moved out of the way of the blade. He threw one blade, burying it into Chyna’s leg.

Chyna stumbled and Mark moved in. He grabbed Chyna’s arm and flipped him, breaking his arm, and drove a blade through his temple.

Chyna respawned as Mark stood.

“Where did you train?” Chyna asked, impressed and a little stunned.

“Earth and the EMF,” Mark said.

“You’re Major Mark Victor. Diablo,” one of the other recruits said in awe.

“Yeah.” Mark pulled the two blades from the ground where Chyna’s simulated body had disappeared. He held up his arms and dropped them back into the holsters under his arms.

“You were there for the Harmony War,” another recruit said.

“Sela, gather information on Mark Victor, EMF, trooper.”

“Sir,” Sela said.

“Everyone to the sparring circles. Let’s begin!” Chyna said, breaking up the conversation.

The more Chyna watched Mark, the more he saw how he’d misjudged the man.

Mark’s body and mind knew more fighting styles than Chyna thought possible and he wasn’t merging—just using the training he’d spent a lifetime accumulating.

***

They then moved into training with the M19.

Mark stripped the rifle under Dodger’s eye and reassembled it.

He knew his weapons. Even if it was a rail gun instead of an electronic firing system, it was similar to the E12 Mark had used.

He fired it at the targets. It was old hat. He passed with a decent score. He wasn’t any sharpshooter and being in the simulator, he could shoot as much as he wanted to get used to the new gun. The recruits and the training cadre let Mark be as he went into his own world.

In the middle of the night, Dodger got a ping on his NIAI.

“Optio Dodger, I was wondering if you could come to the range please,” Mark commed.

“On my way.” Dodger transported to Mark instantly, catching a rifle.

“What is this?” Dodger looked over the gun. It looked like a M19 but its magazine was a solid block of material and there was a slight bulge behind the gun’s chamber.

“M-Nineteen-Alpha. Have a go.”

Dodger dropped into a firing stance and fired the gun. There were two stages of noise instead of the regular M19. The round was like a single gray streak as it broke the sound barrier and hit the target.

A stream of gray flashed from Mark’s barrel as thousands of rounds impacted the targets. Mark shot in measured bursts; the targets disintegrated the target within the first couple of rounds and the rest served to liberally coat the range in the debris.

His hand blurred; another block attached to the first one, which had shrunk as larger rounds hit targets, exploding with their HE payload.

Dodger joined in firing the rail gun then switching to the under barrel highlighting the ammunition type on his HUD. Through the simulation, Dodger was able to have the blocks recreate themselves so they’d always reach down, finding one on their bodies attached by gravity clamps. After they went through more rounds than they could count, Dodger put his rifle on safe, grinning ear from ear and looking at the crowd that had gathered. Mark did the same with a similar grin.

“So, what the hell are these blocks?” Dodger pitched his voice so everyone could hear.

“They’re high-density blocks; the nanites inside the gun take what they need, make the projectile, fix and power the gun all from this block.”

“Wait—nanites inside the weapon?”

“Yup, which means no more maintenance. The gun’s broken, or needs cleaning, the nanites will take care of it. You just need to supply it with blocks and a power source if it depletes itself.”

“Won’t the user need to have a morph level?” Michales asked.

Dodger didn’t know when he’d arrived. Dodger looked to see the training cadre were all watching.

“Nope, the nanites are pre-programmed; they’ll only act under certain circumstances.”

“Mind if I try?” Michales asked, coming from the crowd.

“Certainly, Centurion.” An armory locker appeared behind the firing line with M19As and the high-density blocks. With, conveniently, enough rifles for everyone.

After Michales had gone through a few magazines, he turned to Mark. “It all feels real but would this even work in the real world?”

“It would, though the coding for the nanites would be a bitch—say, a few weeks if I had a crack at it. And while it is a very nice rifle, the em-nineteen is also a very nice rifle. Sure, it doesn’t have a launcher, not the rate of fire and it breaks down. Though replacing them for the alpha version would be a bitch, swapping out millions of them. I would not want to be a part of that. I uploaded the plans to the net so any planet or person with the rights and security clearance that wants to can make it, slowly phasing it in. They’re going to have to change tactics as well, using this rifle, so I’d rather those looking for something like this find it instead of everyone using it the wrong way.”

“All valid points. I’m going to see if I can get some quality time with a forge and test this out in the real world.”

“By all means, sir.” Mark smiled.

“It’s pretty fun.” Dodger switched from normal rounds to heavy rail gun rounds, to the HE rounds.

***

Since the changes to his body, Mark didn’t really need to sleep, so he continued to work on “the suit.” Sarah pinged him as he was looking at weaponry. Not even the M19A would be enough.

“Sarah, did you get access to that forge in storage?”

“Yep, hooked up to the power. I have robots currently through the floor and are excavating materials needed.”

“I have an idea for the space. Say, could we put this there?” He pulled a plan from his personal memories, feeling the NIAI equivalent of glee.

“I think we could do something about that. Though we’re going to have to add this in.”

“Also, do you have those long-range scans I was looking for?”

“I already got access to the proper sensors and am checking the readouts. Should take two weeks to get the information we require.”

“Did you clear your tracks?”

“Of course. You think this is my first time doing this?” she said, agitated.

“No oh, queen of the data and all things electronic,” Mark said sarcastically as he grinned.

“That’s better.” She had a note of humor in her tone as she tried to sound uppity.

Mark laughed in response, shaking his head as he returned to other, more immediate plans.

After the first week in the sim with sleep deprivation, everyone was feeling sluggish. Even Mark was spending a little less time in his own world.

They trained with shields and swords. It was hard and tiring work. You had to trust those around you implicitly. One screw-up and your shield wall could come apart and you’d have a Maraukian in your face.

It was used as discipline as well as training. They learned the legion’s weapon systems, their medical procedures, their Mars armor and the legion’s defensive doctrine.

It was the Roma Legion’s duty to assist every inhabited planet to defeat the Maraukians and give them a chance.

Maraukians created vaults on planets, nine of them hidden in the planet. After the legion had been on a planet for eight months, they would start pouring out of these vaults and killing anything they could find.

They were too big, strong, and fast to fight in the open, so the legion built massive defensive fortifications and held on. The Maraukians were driven to kill so much that they would suck up dead and wounded, tossing them to the rear to feed the rest of the horde and continue to press the attack.

For two weeks, they were thrown into defensive positions and they held on, using the weapon systems, even the shield wall, to retake positions.

***

“And that is the end of your tester,” Centurion Michales said after the second defensive training scenario. “Go get a beer and take some time off. You will be attached to active centuries and put on the lines soon enough. Once the threat is finished on Tricticus, then expect to be thrown into a training cycle with your new century. The legion owns you for the next twenty-five years. Welcome to the legion.”

He got tired yells back and the newly tested legionnaires dropped out of the simulation bubbles.

“Showers then meet in my office for the evaluations,” Michales said to the training cadre.

Optio Joles was the first to start the evaluation discussion. “Okay, he obviously passed everything but what about working with a group? Sure, he talked to a few people here and there but he was never really part of the group.”

Dodger removed his interface, which was created by his NIAI inputting the images directly through his optical nerve so it was invisible to the others; it was gone with a flick of his hand from his bunk. “That’s true but I’ve fought with him before on the Bollas. He cares for nothing but the people with him. I watched him kill himself to rescue one of my men who’s alive today because of him. Mark would be dead right now if he hadn’t changed his body because he saved my man. He might not be the most sociable person, but, he cares for those in his unit and around him, that’s clear. He hadn’t met the man before, yet he didn’t care as he put himself at incredible risk.”

“Yes, he saved your man but I couldn’t trust him. When we were fighting in the sim, he was always ready to help but I found he was overly helpful. Those kinds of people always have something to hide.”

“Many people owe him their lives, this is correct, but he does need to interact more with people. I think this is something we can work on further. I think the reason he offered his help was because he saw the Maraukians’ actions changing on your sector,” Chyna added, cleaning his mono-blade and nodding to Dodger, who nodded back. Leaving out the fact that without Mark slaving the weapons systems to himself and using them to cover Joles’s section, Joles would’ve lost it.

“All right, so Mark passes, needs help with socialization. Next candidate.” Michales settled it and his NIAI added that to his file as he stabbed his thumb down on his pad.

Chapter 2

Legate Nerva’s estate

Orbiting gardens of Ageia, Hellenic system

6/3350

“Nerva, I have some news,” NiDenise said in Nerva’s mind.

“What?” Nerva looked out of his apartment and over his estate.

It had been months since he had reached Earth, only to find out Tyler and Alexis had been murdered. Mark had been recovered, but then pronounced dead.

Even with all of the power he commanded, he hadn’t been able to save them. He’d stayed at his estate, looking over the gardens, but inside, he felt hollow.

It was as if his children had been murdered. It tore him up inside.

Jerome was the only survivor of the Victors. Ortiz, Dominguez, and the Triple-Two’s who had survived, including Bobbie, Yu, and Young, had grouped together and taken control of the Victor Corporation.

They were protected but Nerva couldn’t help but feel useless.

“Mark is alive,” Denise said.

Nerva sat there, thinking that he’d dreamed of the words.

“He’s actually alive. It looks like he was stowing away on ships until he reached the Emarl system. He’s on a planet called Tricticus. Lucky for him, Legate Pullo is currently trying to defend the planet against Maraukians,” Denise said.

“Tell me everything,” Nerva said. The lethargy from only moments ago fell away.

“It seems that there was a complication on Fernix when Legionnaire Asual tried to pull him into the legion. The nanites went between his synapses instead of creating a net around them. Over the years, his brain adapted and worked around them. When he was pulled out of Earth, he healed himself up and fled. For months, he’s been traveling as far from Earth as possible. He got to Tricticus and used a NIAI. It connected to the nanites in his brain and sped him up. He nearly died from using it and a set of Mars-powered armor. He fought Maraukians hand-to-hand,” Denise said.

“How?” Nerva watched the same recording Pullo had seen.

“The anomaly with the NIAI and the nanites—it sped up his reaction time. It was like when the first people found the Maraukians’ up-loaders. They might have pushed us forward generations, but they burnt out their own minds to do it. Mark used his powered armor to fight. He tore his body apart and his mind. He kept fighting until he passed out from the damage,” Denise said.

“How is he?” Nerva couldn’t just learn Mark had survived to know he died again.

“He went through some…changes.” Denise showed a video of Mark coming out of the nanite vat, clothes forming around him. He was large, even larger than normal.

“What kind of changes?” Nerva asked.

“His human body wasn’t able to deal with merging, as he calls it. So, he made this body. Honestly, I don’t know how to explain it, there’s little information on it, and the scans—well, nothing can penetrate his skin. He’s covered in nanites, maybe even made of them. His bones are carbon hendral. He’s got generators, massive capacitors, and machines keeping him active. His own mind is a bio-mechanical construct that even an AI couldn’t figure out.”

“So he rebuilt himself into this form?” Nerva had seen some crazy shit in his time. This was up there.

“Yes.”

Is it even Mark in there? Nerva thought privately. Do I intervene or not?

If he did, then it would show favoritism. Mark was not some babe; he was a full-grown man. Having Nerva coming in and running over him? Nerva shook his head. He would leave Mark to his own devices.

“Pullo has sent you a report through back channels. It was how I originally figured it out. It won’t be long until the senate gets a hold of this. Mark says that he can make a force like him, one fully capable of fighting the Maraukians on the field of battle,” Denise said.

“If Mark makes a unit capable of that, then they’re going to want control of it.”

“Turn it into a political tool instead of a real fighting force,” Denise said, finishing his thought.

“Yes, and we both know how Mark will react if they try to make him another puppet. He had enough of that when he was a trooper.”

“That wouldn’t go over smoothly.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Nerva tapped his chin in thought. “Does Damus know of this?”

“Not yet.” It showed the kind of favor that Nerva had garnered from his people. Pullo should have reported this straight to the commander of the Roma legions. Or he could have given it to the senate to show favor with them. It would be one hell of a political coup.

Instead, he’d given it to Nerva, asking for his advice and what he should do.

“Denise, send a message to Pullo. I want him to create two reports, one for whoever he desires in the senate and another for Damus. He will send the first to the senate, then one to the commander of the Roma legions. I will build a case for Mark in the senate. That way, he will get more sway in the senate and the non-legion senators will approve of his angling. I will contact Damus first and make sure he knows of what is going on. That way he is covered from both avenues. People will only see that Damus is getting the information late. When he comes to a decision quick, it will show how he is resourceful and a man not to be underestimated.” Political games were like any battle tactics; he just knew a lot more about his opponents.

“Sending.”

“Get me a private meeting with Damus Versanti. If Mark’s plan is successful, then I want a record kept to transmit to the emperor. As the senate means well, that kind of power—I don’t think that it can rest in the hands of men and women who are playing the game of politics instead of trying the best for their people.” Nerva stood and went to the bathroom.

“Sir,” Denise said.

For the first time in a few months, Nerva felt alive. He would leave Mark to wage his own battles, but he would support him however he needed to.

He looked at the beard that had formed. A shower and a shave later, he looked like the real Legate Nerva. His cold blue eyes looked back at him.

Tyler and Alexis’s losses weighed on him. The losses of every person at his command weighed on him. Though he had been left behind, he was not going to waste his life in grieving.

There’s work to be done.

“Damus Versanti, the commander of Roma’s legions, has agreed to a meeting, tonight. Pullo has replied with his thanks and asks for you to review the details of his submissions before he sends them,” Denise said.

“Very well. Call up my guard. I think we should take a walk around the estate. Been cooped up too long and we can work on fine-tuning our plan,” Nerva thought-spoke.

“Yes, sir.” Denise sounded enthusiastic.

Chapter 3

Legionnaire Tower

Roma, Hellenic system

7/3350

Commander of Roma’s legions Damus Versanti had been fighting Maraukians since he was eighteen and joined the legion. He’d been born on Roma and happily taken his rail gun and popped Maraukian skulls. He still had the scars from when it had gotten close and it looked as if he wouldn’t be making it home after all; indeed, many of his friends hadn’t. Damus Versanti had worked his way through the ranks of merit, learning too late that officer’s positions needed filling and he was headed that way instead of back to the battlefield he craved to make a difference on.

He’d become a paper pusher after seventy-three years of fighting. Instead of quitting, he saw it as his duty to help keep the legion running from the top. So, his reluctance for getting farther from the battlefield turned into a burning passion. Two wives and two hundred and fifteen years later, he reached the top, becoming the thirty-first Roma’s legions’ legate, commander of the Roma’s legions’ ground forces. Still working to keep his people alive however he could, now from above rather than on the battlefield.

He’d been going through reports on a newly cleared world in the Theta system when Legate Pullo on Tricticus contacted him.

The games begin. He remembered the meeting that he had not had with Legate Nerva. His political feelers had already started to hear some rumors of a political alliance moving to capitalize on Mark Victor’s revelations.

“Roma’s Legions’ Legatus legionis Damus.” Pullo saluted.

“Pullo, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, an old comrade of mine has appeared and as per his norm, stirred up something. I’m sending over the information as I have it to you. Basically, he has something that could allow a centuria of eighty suits with the right fire support and resupply to attack Maraukians.”

“Is this the man I’ve been hearing so much about, this Mark Victor?” A screen opened as a third man studied Pullo through the real-time link.

Damus sighed, thinking he was going to need to upgrade his long-range communication codes again. “Pullo, I believe you’ve heard of Charles Welckt before?”

“Yes, the head of suit research and development.”

“He’s good,” Charles said.

“Charles,” Damus said in a warning tone, feeling the need to rub his brow.

“Not trying to be rude, but how have you heard of Mark Victor?” Pullo’s eyes were like glaciers, making Charles gulp before he went on.

“Well, I saw his plans on the net, of course. They’re under some of the best security I’ve seen, and I think he was making it easy for me to find them. Everyone else I’ve asked to try to find them hasn’t been able to.”

“Which plans?” Damus asked.

“Well, the plans for the Pluto-powered armor.”

“He already started on it?” Damus directed his question to Pullo.

“Well, of course. What do you want him to do? Sit there and twiddle his thumbs instead of work on coding from the base up, which is as complex as a class-six AI on the surface for normal operations and then a class eight for when he and his AI merge? It’s the most complicated coding I’ve ever seen. The components are incredible. He brought together and combined theories I’ve been working on. Then there’s the nanites! They work on a—”

“Thank you, Charles,” Damus said, the man not realizing who Damus had actually addressed with his question.

“Pullo, in your opinion, is this man trustworthy? I do see he arrived by climbing aboard a supply shuttle at Earth.”

“Yes, fortune does favor us. I trust this man more than I trust my mother—if I knew her.”

Damus held Pullo’s eyes his expression heavy as he frowned.

“Will you say yes already? Or I’m going to go there anyway and make the damned thing,” Charles said, not willing to wait around.

“Charles, you’re needed here for development.”

“All right then, I quit and request to have my retirement on Tricticus.”

“You want to do this that much?” Damus couldn’t hide his surprise of Charles even thinking of leaving the post he loved. Charles was so attached to his department—even his workshop—it was rare for him to want to go anywhere else to work on a project. Let alone quitting just to get this one.

“Yes, you don’t understand, Damus. This suit isn’t just a bigger version of the Mars. It’s a few centuries ahead of anything I’ve even thought of. Sure, he took my basic ideas here and there but he combined them with information I didn’t even know existed. This suit by itself, if reversed engineered into components, could bring along a revolution in technology.”

“That’s quite the statement.”

“My team is already packing, those willing to quit and join me for this. We have a shuttle to the Intrepid, which is already ready to go.”

“All right, all right, you can go, Charles, but keep the damn office. I don’t know who the hell would be able to figure it out after what you’ve done to it. It looks like you’re going to have company soon, Pullo.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll let Mark know. He’ll be appreciative of any help he can get.”

“Can’t have someone ruining it…so many preparations to make.” Charles signed off, sounding like a small child on Christmas morning.

“Thank you, Damus,” Pullo said

“If this works out, I’ll be the one thanking you. At least at this rate, I get some room as Charles stops focusing on the next artillery pack for the suits. The payloads on those things are hard to believe, plus he hasn’t found one that can fire on the power output of the suit and not crush the user.”

Both Damus and Pullo winced.

“Charles will be out within a week with the supplies you need. He’s a little different but if this suit can be made, he’ll make it. Good luck.”

Pullo took his cue, saluting, and Damus replied in kind as the real-time link was cut.

“Great—two quirky bastards now.” Pullo sighed. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth as he puffed on a lit cigar. His NIAI informed Mark. Things were going to get interesting on Tricticus, it seemed.

He received an alert from his NIAI.

“Nerva is on his way for Tricticus at his best speed.”

Chapter 4

The Yard

Sol system

8/3350

Jerome stretched. His joints cracked as the weight of gravity settled over his frame.

He nodded and waved to people in greeting; they nodded and carried on their way. The Victor Corporation was a massive entity with The Yard being just one of its many subsidiaries.

Many of the people employed here had also served with Jerome in the EMF. They had fought for years from planet to planet and then finally to Earth, destroying the group called Harmony.

Jerome stopped in the observatory, looking at the three massive freighters that currently occupied the second dock owned by the Yard. There were four slips. One was being prepared for its next project; the other three showed freighters in various stages of completion.

“I thought I might find you here.” Esamai’s arms wrapped around Jerome’s waist.

“Hey there, you.” Jerome wrapped his arm around her and brought her in for a kiss.

“How was your shift?” She rested her head against his chest.

“Long. We got the power couplings fitted for the thirty-fourth hardpoint.” Jerome sighed as he looked at the three ships, his mind somewhere else.

“What’s wrong?” Esamai asked.

Jerome thought about avoiding the question for a half-second. “Mark, Alexis, and Tyler.” Jerome looked to each of the ships in turn. “I…I can’t believe they’re gone.”

It had been months since they had defeated Harmony, before the incident with the screamer missile.

They had found Tyler and Alexis’s powered armor fused to each other. Jerome had sent them into the sun. But they had never found Mark’s body. There were so many bodies and few of them were recognizable.

“I know.” Esamai squeezed him tight.

For the most part, Jerome had buried himself in work. Esamai had been a godsend; she’d kept him off the booze and given him someone to talk to.

He looked to her and kissed her forehead.

“Dominguez is coming up from Earth and Ortiz got some free time from the mining rigs,” Esamai said.

Jerome looked back at the freighters. He felt a mix of sadness and pride. Sad at losing his brothers and sister; proud he was able to make something to commemorate the great people. It still didn’t feel as if it were enough. He wanted to tell everyone about the real Victors, not just the war heroes and ill-fated lovers. The people who had lived, laughed, and loved, who had accepted him into their family.

“Doesn’t feel like it’s been sixteen years.” Jerome’s emotions played through his mind as he looked at Esamai.

“I know,” Esamai said softly, understanding his emotions.

“What did I do to earn you?” Jerome smiled at her.

“Made my great-great-great-grandfather the head of the Yard.” She smiled.

“So, what are you? A bribe?”

“Maybe.” Esamai grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the view. She looked around before getting close so no one could hear her. “I wouldn’t think I’d be that bad of a bribe.”

Jerome made a show of looking down at her. “I think I could live with it.”

“You better!” She hit him lightly and tried not to smile.

Jerome laughed, some of the emotional weight of earlier falling away.

“Not too many cigars!” she chided him as they walked.

“Come on! I just got these Coheleans!” Ortiz said. He hadn’t lost a pound of his large frame over the years. He was still short as ever, and looked as if he were going to tear a trooper a new one. But there was a grin on his face as he shook a box of cigars at them and then pulled out a bottle of wine. “Don’t worry—I didn’t forget you, my dear.” Ortiz smiled.

Esamai laughed, hugging him in greeting and taking the bottle.

“Ortiz.” Jerome held out a hand.

“Jerome, you monkey.” Ortiz laughed and took his hand, bringing the other man into a hug.

“Having fun breaking rocks?” Jerome asked.

“Always good to blow things up. Been having some issues with the grinders. Teeth are getting worn down on—”

“No work!” Esamai chided.

Ortiz laughed and held up a hand. “My fault, sorry! How have you two been? I heard the news.” Ortiz looked at Esamai’s growing stomach.

“Good, though he wants me to stop even staring at view screens of space!” Esamai pouted. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid!”

Ortiz laughed and clapped Jerome on the shoulder. “Best to listen to the lady!”

“Thanks.” Jerome looked at his old commander and wife. There wasn’t going to be any winning with that combination.

They walked and talked through the working spaces and into the living areas. There were people everywhere. The Yard wasn’t just a shipyard; it was the base of all space-borne operations. The Westerly compound on Earth was their ground-based operation center.

Here and there, Jerome greeted people he knew by fighting or working beside them. He’d been a trooper for twenty years. When he’d retired and inherited the Victor Corporation, he’d hired on every trooper who was looking for a life beyond the slums and the EMF.

It had taken awhile, but now Jerome couldn’t think of any other place as home.

Two people stood outside Jerome and Esamai’s quarters—a tall man and a shorter woman with the sides of her head shaved and the top pulled into a ponytail.

“I found this one lurking in the luggage—decided to bring him along.” Dominguez grinned and pointed at the man. He was known by many names, but to them he was Moretti. He’d worked with Jerome and Dominguez directly on two different planets. They’d saved one another’s lives more times than they could count.

“Good to see you.” Jerome wrapped them up in hugs. His work at the Yard kept him in good condition and he had never forgotten his fighting training.

“Are those Coheleans I see?” Moretti asked.

“They might be. Might be that someone’s not allowed to smoke them, so Bobbie, Young, and myself will have a few extra,” Ortiz said.

“Have I ever said how much you’re my favorite rock breaker?” Moretti said.

“Good to see you, Moretti.” Ortiz laughed, hugging the man and tapping him on the back. They made their way into Esamai and Jerome’s quarters.

Jerome looked around at his home. It was a simple place: two bedrooms, living area attached to the kitchen, a bathroom and closet.

It had looked plain and boring when Jerome had taken it over. Now it was filled with paintings. There was a view screen, paint on the walls and something heavenly was cooking in the kitchen.

Esamai and Dominguez talked about a bit of this and that, dealt with food and sat down in a corner of the room. Jerome fetched drinks. Ortiz and Moretti talked.

Someone knocked at the door. Jerome went to it, checking the view screen. Three smiling faces looked back.

Jerome opened the hatch.

Yu, Young, and Bobbie grinned at him with gifts and food.

“Come in, come in!” Jerome waved them in, giving half hugs before he sealed the hatch behind them.

The others greeted them as they came in. Jerome put away Bobbie’s fine Scotch with a smile and handed out new drinks. Jerome stood in the kitchen for a moment, drinking his beer.

He smiled and looked at everyone. His closest friends and comrades. He looked to Esamai; she caught his eye and smiled back.

It’s too bad that Mark, Tyler, and Alexis weren’t here. The end of the Harmony War replayed in his mind. He’d been injured, pulled away by medics. He still heard the silence as battle died away. He couldn’t believe it was all over.

Then a screamer rocket took off. He would never forget that sound.

He heard people yelling as they raised their rifles, firing at a building where the noise came from.

Mark turned to face where Tyler and Alexis were, fear gripped him as he saw Alexis tackle Tyler. Then the missile went off.

Mark was thrown away, the pressure wave hit him off at an awkward angle before he struck a wall.

He hosed down where the shooter had been as people rushed forward.

Jerome had ran towards Alexis and Tyler who were the closest.

They were unrecognizable, their bodies twisted and broken.

Jerome let out a soundless yell of mourning and ran to Mark.

The people nearer him were already reacting.

He had severe internal injuries and his face was mashed up.

Then he had collapsed himself, the pain in his side registering, a piece of metal and turned shrapnel, piercing his side.

He dropped his weapon, numb. People helped him but it was a daze of drugs as he looked at where Tyler and Alexis were as people moved to secure the area. Ortiz yelling orders and people talking about Jerome’s injuries.

People yelling next to Mark.

Jerome looked over as their actions turned panicky. His vitals went from yellow to black and Jerome’s world came apart.

“You okay?” Bobbie asked. He was a large man from wrangling crates and cargo.

“Yeah, just, you know, sometimes it comes back.” Jerome gathered the various drinks and handed one to Bobbie. He took a big slug of his, trying to hide his shaking hand or the feeling that his guts had been pulled out, that hollow feeling knowing that they weren’t going to make it back. There had been so many things he wanted to say, to do with them. Now it was all gone.

“Yeah, same,” Bobbie said, seeing his own memories. “You need a hand?”

“Yeah, that’s Yu’s spritzer something and Young’s wine. I’ve got Ortiz’s beer and some snacks,” Jerome said.

“Snacks sound good. We had to do a double shift to get back in time. Rations are still crap.” Bobbie’s face screwed up in distaste.

“Nasty,” Jerome sympathized.

“Too fucking right.” Bobbie laughed and took the drinks.

Chapter 5

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

11/3350

Charles was followed by a cadre of engineers and various experts gathering looks as they passed suited and fully armed legionnaires. Two massive things covered by a cloth were pulled behind them as they walked into the only lab in Camp Epsilon.

“All right, you guys know what to do.” Then to his NIAI: “Where is this Mark Victor?”

“I believe he’s in the simulation room still.”

“Would you kindly ask him to join us?”

“Certainly.”

Charles found a seat on a worktop in the lab, focused on his interface—as he had been constantly since seeing the information Mark had uploaded to the net.

“Charles Welckt,” Mark said from Charles’s side.

“You really are a mountain of a man.” Charles looked at Mark sideways. “How did you know I’m Charles?”

“I found your picture.”

“I deleted all of them—hate pictures.”

“One I took with the sensors in your workshop when you used your NIAI to find my project.” Mark grinned.

“Oh, I like you, Mark.” Charles’s face split in a grin. “Yes, I am Charles Welckt and these lovely people are my helpers.”

“Minders,” the good-looking redhead with Charles amended, holding out her hand to Mark. “I’m Maxine. That’s Jess and he’s Gomez.”

Jess smiled and Gomez grunted.

Gomez was the strong but squat power systems tech; Maxine, the beautiful redhead who worked with computer systems; and Jess, the black-haired armor and applied forces tech.

Maxine had the most energy second to Charles and spent hours just writing code, or going through it for fun. Making supercomputers was a pastime for her.

Gomez always looked confused because he was always thinking of some problem or other. He didn’t answer as many questions as he made noises at them. It wasn’t odd for him to grunt or sigh as he figured something out. His most common word was bam. It seemed whenever he completed something, he said bam, either out loud or under his breath. Most people automatically added a bam to nearly everything he said.

Jess was quiet and reserved. She was always thinking about the others. Though where they would go through trial and error, she would only do something if she knew she was going to get a certain result. She was reserved, concise, and practical where Charles was flighty, loud, obnoxious, and spontaneous.

“I believe we have a suit to look at.” He brought his hands together in a gleeful clap.

“Indeed. All right, so you all know why we’re here. To make a suit so we can finally fight the Maraukians on our terms. We’re looking at technology no one has even thought about making. Don’t kid yourselves—what we do here might change the war.”

“It looks like we weren’t the only people interested in the merging capabilities Mark has displayed. When Damus took this to the senate, it was revealed there was a select group of senators who passed a bill to create a merger group. They took Mark’s scans without his permission and hacked together mergers, not just legionnaires, but people in all branches of Roma’s legions: Bellona riders, Ares pilots, SLS crew. They’re all kinds of fucked up right now. Most of them are living in nanite vats, unable to leave for fear they’ll cause such a heavy injury that they’ll be unable to live normal lives. The senate wasn’t too happy with it, but they agreed. Now that it’s all out in the light, they want us to make a program for them to get body modifications and to make sure their merging works out,” Charles said.

“Nope,” Mark said. “I know just how powerful this is. I don’t want anyone running around with these kinds of abilities without testing them.”

“This is an order from the senate,” Charles warned.

“And they can fire me if they want.” Mark closed his eyes as Sarah connected him with the net. He merged his thoughts, raging through the net and gathering information.

“Okay, that should be sorted,” he said after a few minutes.

“What did you do?” Maxine asked.

“Just said certain things would come to light if they kept pushing. We’ll go see the mergers but I’m not going to give this shit out blindly,” Mark said.

“You blackmailed Roma senators?” Maxine asked, shocked.

“No, I informed them I would bring things to light they might not like, if they piss around with this tech and start giving me dumbass orders.” Mark shrugged. It might be odd to them, but bribery and threats were normal currency in slums and corporate towers of Earth.

“We’ll get set up in here and then start with the components,” Charles said in a light tone as he continued on with his work. He directed his subordinates through his interface, hiding how the momentary lapse of Mark’s face when talking about politicians shaken him to the core. Two things were certain: Mark hated politicians and he was a killer.

“Sounds good. I’ll be in the simulator room if you need me.” He gave a half wave as he walked out of the workshop.

“That is definitely not a man I want angry at me,” Gomez said.

“I think we can all agree to that.” Maxine was a poster-perfect redhead without any enhancements. Under her beautiful veneer lay one of the five smartest people in the known universe, and an addict to building things, which meant, naturally, she and Charles got along like a house on fire.

“I feel for him, though. He’s the only one with this ability and from what his reports state, he’s obviously been in battle. He knows this merging better than anyone and they’re sidelining him. Anyone would be a little pissed. Especially with the power he’s giving them, which can be so easily abused,” Jess said.

“I feel for him, especially where Senator Rimateus is concerned,” Charles said hotly to their nods.

“As Mark said, let’s get him the best damned suits we can produce. It’s looking like there won’t be much testing if they want the plans as soon as we come up with them, so it has to be perfect the first time we do it. I don’t want to have a Jupiter incident. This one needs to work the first time. We all know how Rimateus will use any issues to try to get control of this project.”

They all nodded in agreement. It wasn’t the first time they’d gone up against Rimateus. He was a brilliant politician, willing to do anything and everything to appear like the golden boy he portrayed himself as.

He’d tried to gain access to Charles’s projects that he shouldn’t have known about.

It made him look good to be part of a project to defend the people of Roma. It also ruined secrets and made Charles’s team look like a bunch of flunkies.

More than one time he’d tried to insert his own people to take over Charles’s group and get the man kicked out of research and development.

You’re not going to win this time, Charles thought, stretching.

***

Ava came to attention upon entering the legatus’s office/quarters and saluted, which Pullo replied to from behind his desk as he waved her to a seat in front of him. She took it quickly as he studied her for a moment.

“So I’ve heard you owe Mark a life debt. Is this correct?”

“Yes, I do, Legatus,” she said warily, not knowing where he was going with the conversation.

“What does that entail?”

“That I must do all in my power to keep him alive, no matter the cost.”

Pullo sighed. His eyes softened as for the first time Ava saw pain in them, before he fixed her with a basilisk stare which made even her father’s pale in comparison.

“Ava, I want you to make me a promise on that life debt or I’ll collect it myself.” There was no doubt in his words, just rock-hard conviction. “Never betray him.”

“Sir?”

“It is not my place to tell you about the man—it’s his. He will take on armies; he will take on an entire planet and he’s about to take on an entire race. To save one good person.” He paused, thinking as he leaned back in his chair. “Have you heard of the templars?”

“No, Legatus.”

“The templars were a holy order set up by a religious group to protect travelers on their travels to their holy place. This holy place was fought for by many different groups of the age. On the battlefield, the templars—in their prime—were the lords of death. There were some groups of them that wouldn’t fight an enemy unless they were outnumbered ten to one. They had strict rules they placed upon themselves, committing themselves to poverty and to take vows to uphold their religious group’s laws. In battle, they wouldn’t retreat unless their flag had fallen. There is one account that a templar knight—the last, who had killed hundreds of men—was asked by the leader of the invading army to surrender and he would not kill him but send him home. The templar knight looked behind him; seeing his flag still upright, he turned back to the leader of the army. He said he couldn’t leave as his flag was still upright; to die in battle was the greatest honor, to leave their war-stricken world and enter heaven, as they called it.”

He paused, his eyes pained. “Those templars fought from the age they were eighteen—many younger, many older—and nearly none of them were expected to survive to be past thirty. Many of those who did saw little to no combat. Mark fought to survive from the age of five till he was eighteen in conditions we can’t even fathom. He then turned his talents to the battlefield for twenty years. His soldiers are his family; if one of them dies, he feels it more than any injury he has on his body. He once told me why he kept the scars. He told me, ‘I keep them to remind me every day, every second, why I’m alive. I’m alive so that I may take on the duty of my soldiers, to kill one bastard and save one innocent. If I save one innocent or one soldier, I’ve done my job, even if to save them I have to lose my life. I will do it without regrets, without remorse. This is my duty and I will succeed in it.’ I’m not saying he did it for religious reasons or anything. I’m telling you how he is the deadliest man I know and if he, like the templars, is used wrongly, he will destroy everything. Never betray him, watch his blindside, and never let him release his rage.”

Pullo’s eyes were locked with Ava as her brain processed the information; she couldn’t. She knew war—she knew battle—but from Pullo’s face, she knew nothing like Mark did.

“I will never betray him. What is this rage you talk about? How can one man’s rage be so terrible?”

“He sticks to his ideals like a lifeline. If he lets go, letting his true bloodlust, his anger, his hatred out, he will never return to us. He will use all of his skills as a hunter, without remorse or care.”

Ava swallowed as her heart settled back down from everything she’d heard. Lines of determination framed her face. “On my life debt, my oath as Ava Desialias, I will help him.”

“Thank you,” Pullo said, relieved. He rose and extended his arm that Ava took by the forearm to complete the agreement.

“I wish you the luck of the gods, but I don’t know if even they could help you with Mark,” he said with a small smile. “Except maybe Ares as he is her closest son by far.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get.” She returned the smile. The deal was struck.

Chapter 6

Legionnaire Tower

Roma, Hellenic system

12/3350

0“Pullo, what’ve you done with Charles? I haven’t heard from him in a week.” Legatus legionis Damus asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“He’s been working on the project,” Pullo said complacently.

“It’s strange not having him bugging me with something repeatedly throughout the day,” Damus said in a wondering tone, trying to think of the last time he hadn’t been contacted by Charles on at least a daily basis. He returned back to reality as Pullo cleared his throat. “How’s the project coming along?”

“In leaps and bounds. They think that they can get the plans ironed out in a month and a half, using the sim bubbles. It’s much better than the six-month prediction.”

“Oh, so it was Victor who came up with it, huh?” Damus sighed, he’d lost his best engineering team to the man, now it looked like he would have to pay him for a new upgraded rifle design. “It took four years to design the Jupiter. I want them thoroughly stress tested before we move forward with buying them.”

“Don’t worry. I have a medico with them to make sure they don’t and to get them to sleep and eat. Yes, he made it when he was going through the refresher course.”

“It passed through senate and then stores like wildfire. We’re producing it like there’s no tomorrow and handing it out to everyone.”

Pullo whistled under his breath. “Really, that fast?”

“I was surprised myself. Must be making a fortune! How is the merging and body modification program coming along?”

“It should be reaching you in four days. I sent it via the Intrepid two days ago.”

“All right. Well, keep up the miracle factory you have there and look after our people.”

“Understood, sir.”

Chapter 7

SLS Shadow

E124X system

2/3351

Some twenty star systems away, Captain Chen’s face was grim. It wasn’t because he’d been in a stealth ship for two months, the air recycler was broken again—mingling the sweat that permeated everything from him and his five subordinates—or the fact that the ship’s internal heat buffers cooked everything to a foul-smelling—and he could swear, explosive—concoction, but the image Gunner Travestki had pulled up on screen.

“Well, shit.” Pilot Taelyon ran her hand through her hair. Chen noticed it shook slightly as she did so.

“Carla, you’re going to want to see this,” Chen commed his first mate, pulling her from her well-deserved sleep.

“Be there in ten.”

“You’re shitting me.” She came through the hatch and stared at the main screen display.

“Not at all. This is an hour late feed but this is right,” Travestki said.

“They have A-drives?” She looked at the familiar nacelles that extruded from the command barge of a Maraukian long-range transport. Confirming everyone’s fears.

“It does appear so.” Chen’s face was grim. On the screen, a flash of every color appeared and then died in a blinding flash as another command barge or CB appeared, the fifth one. He silently thanked the gods the CBs hadn’t mated with the smaller hexagonal assault barges or AB’s that carried the Maraukian herds. The fact they were moving into the system without them also brought up a scary thought that maybe the Maraukians were testing them out, seeing how to use them. Maraukians who could think and adapt—that was not something he would like to see. Especially ones which were now figuring out they could jump insertion barges, right into the Ninth’s front door.

Insertion barges were the culmination of the massive hexagonal prism of the command barge, covered by the interlocking eight hundred of the weaponized smaller assault barges which housed ten herds per barge and were multiple layers deep to absorb any weapons fire for those below or anything that might hit them as they traveled at near relativistic speed to get to a planet.

Though the one problem the Maraukians had since the legion had first met them was that they didn’t have A-drive. They had straight propulsion engines and pushed the barges to a decent fraction of C and let it go as the Maraukians slept through the years.

Humans had figured out A-drive through the information dumping system Maraukians used. The ability to move legionnaires, weapons, supplies, and anything else they required from one battlefield to another was instrumental in letting the smaller Ninth force push back the Maraukians.

Now it seemed the legion’s technological advantage would be severely cut.

“How long till they’re ready?” Chen asked after a few minutes.

“I have no idea, Captain. They could pick up ABs in the next system they jump to and then start striking at us. Or they could wait years to sort out any problems and then come at us. There are just too many variables and unknowns to be certain,” Carla said.

“All right. Well, I think we’ve seen enough here. Taelyon, if you please, get us back to the closest legion-occupied world. Carla, wake up Frank and Liviana and see what we can coax out of the ship.”

“Yes, sir.” Carla turned off her gravity field and threw herself down the corridor. The others ran checks over their systems and Taelyon turned the ship around to deep space, toward the jump stream.

“UP AND AT ’EM! TIME TO EARN YOUR PAY!” Chen could hear through the bulkheads as his ship accelerated out of the system without anyone noticing their existence. Or the flash a few hours later in deep space as they disappeared into jump toward a system called Tricticus.

Chapter 8

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

3/3351

Mark ground his teeth as he kept working, hearing the sirens blaring through the camp to signify stand to.

“I know, Mark, but you’d do more harm than good until we finish the suit,” Ava said.

“I just want to be doing something; I hate being in here and not out there keeping others alive. I’m sorry. I know you feel the same way. It’s so frustrating.” He hit the table, Sarah using anti-grav silently so he only dented the solid metal instead of breaking it in half.

“I know, Mark, but as much as we want to—as you told me—we have to do what we’re told. That means you need to get your ass back inside that bubble and concentrate on the coding. The people at the walls have been doing what they’re doing for a long time and with you and this suit, you’ll be more of a help than you would be now in a suit you’d break and then have to make them worry about you.”

“You’re right, I know, but I’m used to charging toward fire, not waiting at the rear.” His dark eyes looked at the wall, as if he could see the advancing Maraukians.

“That’s why I joined the legion instead of staying in Crisidium. But enough about that. Get to work,” she said, this time with a gentle push and a smile to belay any annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am.” He came to attention jokingly before getting back in his simulation bubble.

Ava continued going through her exercises, moving as if water flowing from one movement to another, focusing on her movements instead of the sirens. She stopped as people came from the simulation bubbles, only to have Ava force them to detox the drugs the simulations had used to keep them alert for days. Most of them she got to their sleeping quarters before detox. Others she had to restrain to get it in.

They were a driven bunch. They knew what was at stake and they knew just how the Pluto could change everything.

It was still a pain dragging them to their sleeping pallets after having to detox the worst offenders.

Everyone on the development team was driven by a combination of pride in their work and their genuine want to help the soldiers on the frontlines. They were riding themselves worse than if Pluto’s own hounds where chasing them. It was taking their toll, even if they’d pushed themselves well ahead of schedule.

The team had finished their parts by the seventh week, with Ava forcing them to detox but leaving Mark the only one awake. Curiosity got the best of her. She got in a simulation bubble and watched Mark as he worked, showing his interface. At first it was too fast to understand; as she just let her senses absorb what was going on, she understood better. An image built itself in front of Mark as he pulled the suit together, inputting the code then running the suit through trials. For Ava, this happened in seconds; for Mark, in simulation time dilation, it was minutes. With the additional speed of merging, it was as though he were doing an hour’s worth of work in bare seconds.

Then he stopped. Ava lost track of time as Mark blew up the image.

He breathed in deeply and let it out in a hiss. “Not bad, if I say so myself.” Mark turned to Ava, who blushed and turned away.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You’re kind of not wearing clothes.”

“Ah, whoops,” Mark said, clothes appearing. “Though you must see people naked all of the time.”

“Yes but usually I’m trying to save their life, not having a normal conversation with them.”

Mark shrugged. “Well, looks like time for my detox.” He eyed the needle in Ava’s hand.

“Thank God I’m not going to have to drag you to your bed.”

“That would be...interesting.”

“Men.” Ava rolled her eyes and laughed.

“I didn’t mean it that way!” he complained, actually blushing.

“Suuure you didn’t.” She walked away—maybe putting a bit of emphasis on shaking her hips.

She felt his eyes on her. Maybe that’s you just hoping his eyes are on you?

He sat on a bed as she stuck the needle in his neck.

“Still hate needles,” Mark said.

The detox took effect and he fell backward. He broke the top of the bed, sound asleep.

Ava shook her head as people stirred or looked over at the noise.

She turned to less complicated things, like her part of the project: the medical systems. Seeing as she was the current expert on Elves, it had fallen on her shoulders. It didn’t help everything Charles had given to her on the medical field she understood and she was apparently a “natural.” She growled. She wanted to be the one on the frontline, killing Maraukians, not having to patch people up. Yet she knew her anger was misplaced and saving people was more rewarding than any killing.

If she hadn’t been Princess Ava Desialias then she would be at Crisidium, defending her home city with the other auxiliary legionnaires. She’d been taught to fight as a child, not to patch people up. At her father’s request, she’d been trained as a medico instead of a legionnaire.

Maybe Mark’s program will give me the chance to fight instead of being stuck in the rear.

Chapter 9

SLS Shadow

Tricticus, Emarl system

5/3351

Captain Chen watched the readouts carefully as the timer counted down to exit from jump.

White brilliance enveloped the main screen, translating as new information was uploaded and instantly turning into nine planets, multiple asteroid belts, and a star that made up the Emarl system.

“Not reading any Maraukian ships.” Travestki broke the silence.

Chen let out his breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “All right, I want information on the legion base here. Request supplies and send our raw data to Roma.”

“Transmitting the information already via the FTL relay,” Travestki said from his tactical station.

“Good. Taelyon, plot me a course to the base in-system and to the jump point that will get us to Roma.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“We have an incoming transmission from the base.”

“Damn, that was fast. Open the channel.”

“This is AI Liam for spacecraft in the Tricticus system. I am reading you as stealth craft 2498 Shadow under command of Captain Chen,” the AI’s mechanic voice stated, using its processors—busy doing more than talking.

“That is correct. This is Captain Chen speaking.”

“Verified and no undue stress levels. Hello, Captain Chen. I also have record you have sent a message via FTL as soon as you connected to the network.”

“That is correct. We require resupply before we continue to Roma.”

“Understood. Currently, Maraukian forces are attacking the three major human installations, including the legion camp. It will take a few days to a few weeks to suitably damage their forces enough for you to have a safe landing.”

“So sit and wait?”

“Yes, but if your records are correct, you have plenty of supplies to survive the period of time it will take.”

“Our records are up to date.”

“Good. Then if you require any assistance, please contact me.”

“Will do. Chen out.”

The channel went dead as Travestki whistled. An image appeared in the main holoprojector.

“Damn unlucky bastards.” Around the web of armorite walls, a mass of hundreds of thousands of Maraukians pushed against the defenders’ streams of rail gun rounds and artillery strikes.

“All right, check everything’s in order and get some rest. Looks like we’ll be waiting awhile.”

Tiredly, they dealt with their tasks, settling in for the little bit of rest they could. Chen looked at the silvery-white streams that disintegrated what they hit, hoping things were a lot easier down there than they looked like in space.

“Route plotted to Tricticus and initiating auto-pilot.”

“All right. Taelyon, get some sleep; tell the others to do so as well. Me and Travestki will pull first watch.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter 10

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

5/3351

Mark woke slowly to the laughs of the development team. He looked around sleepily, wiping his face. His nanites took care of any stubble as he picked himself up from the low—too low—pallet.

“Huh.” He broke out into a grin as he looked at the remnants of his pallet.

“Whoops. Guess I’ll need a new bed.” He turned to the other excited faces of the development team.

“Well, let’s hurry the hell up. We have a suit to make, people! Today’s going to be a busy day, people!” Charles said from beside Mark, pushing him along too.

Mark and Charles walked ahead of the others to the two large covered objects the development team had brought when they’d first arrived. They looked at each other; as if signaled, they threw off the covers to reveal two massive nanite tanks connected by a physical pipe and a data stream.

Mark exhaled, merging with Sarah with ease but out of practice. He opened his eyes. He felt more alive than he ever had before as he slowly put his hands into the tank. His personal nanites and those from the tank intermingled as he sent his and Sarah’s presence through the tanks, touching every nanite.

Charles put his hands in the other vat. They’d be making both of them at the same time as they knew that it would be impossible to make a second if they made them one by one in the time they had. The recovery from what they were about to do was going to be long.

Mark guided Charles to a single task, which he threw himself into. More and more of the development team joined with Mark, breaking down the suits’ components and partitioning off the nanites for each user. As they took up the reins, the nanites swarmed, creating the suit from a molecular level up.

Mark likened the feeling to being a conductor. He optimized the talents of those around him in perfect synchrony. Each knew their part, how it fit perfectly with the others as they brought their corner of the masterpiece together. The vat became a frenzy. Each of the fourteen minds and NIAIs connected perfectly, working in synchronization, knowing what the other was doing as fast as they themselves knew. They were the components that made up a machine with one focus, one purpose as something grew in the depths of the tanks.

It was terribly tiring mentally, as people fought against it, holding to their purpose—in the whole—over fatigue. Ava joined, seeing the big picture as Mark spread his efforts over the whole to take the strain away from those who were still quite drained.

Mark pushed a few from the collective as they reached their fatigue point before they caused harm to themselves; he took over their parts and displaced it to everyone as they fought a mental battle.

It was harder than anything Mark had ever done physically. Being connected to Sarah brought him clarity and allowed him to take on a larger load, but he monitored everyone’s health while he held the entire thought of the suit. It was as though he were a ball of yarn, having everyone pulling a string from it to distribute it. Time lost its meaning as they wrestled with their minds. More dropped out as Mark fought on. After what felt like eternity, three of them were left as the image Mark had created the other night now lay unseen in the vats.

“Time for the final touch.” Sarah pulled the coding from their collective memory banks. It was trillions of lines long, more coding than the biggest cruiser and four times longer than the original AI of Roma and with more permutations than Mark was willing to calculate. They’d completed it three days ago, having started with it as Mark came out of the nanite vat.

It was the soul, the living part of the machine through which a human was able to transform. His hand touched the carbon hendral plating of the armor under the surface of nanites. He opened the processors and memory banks of the suit and with a direct connection, felt the trillions of lines of code flow from him into the suit. It was as if he’d electrocuted it, bringing it from death to life as the image was now an entity. Instantly, the coding transmitted to the second suit as nanites were repurposed; those inside came alive as they were given a final objective.

Mark and Sarah admired their work through the nanites. They pulled back the development teams, using grav lifts to pull the suits from the silver tanks, which oddly gathered together in groups, slinking down to the tanks. Even the nanites were tired. The suits were running diagnostics; every system was turned on and off, checking for no faults or corruption in the data.

Everyone on the development team was silent as they looked up at the two suits of armor. The armor was so dark it gave off the telltale purple shimmering that carbon hendral plating had. On its arms, it had a cylinder covering its forearms, with a barrel and trigger assembly folded back against the cylinder. Two dark-gray blocks were attached to the cylinder at right angles from one another. Mono-blade swords seven feet long protruded over the shoulders beside the faceless helmet. The armor from helmet to boot was around nine feet tall. The second was eight and a half.

Excitement gave them the energy to pick themselves up. They wouldn’t miss this for anything.

“Well, let’s get the prototype ready for transport. Jess and Gomez, get Mark fitted and run diagnostics.” Charles was all business but no one missed the massive grin plastered on his face. “By the gods, people, I think we’ve got ourselves a Pluto-powered armor suit!”

Cheers rang out as the development team whooped, high-fived, and hugged one another, their fatigue forgotten. Their eyes went dull as a crate was pulled forward; lines of data cables readied as one suit moved toward it and the other moved to Mark.

“Open,” Mark said to the suit, which split open to reveal a swirling mass of silver nanites. Mark grinned and caught Ava’s look at both Mark and his suit. He winked as he turned around. His clothes turned into their nanite form as they reached for the suit, which, in turn, reached for him. As he walked backward, the nanite streams intermingled, wrapping around him as he settled inside the armor.

The nanites covered every inch of his body except for his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. The armor sealed seamlessly as nanites fused it together on a molecular level in seconds. The anti-matter power supply hummed briefly as Mark looked at the absolute black of the inside of the helmet. Sarah connected to the processing center of the suit, feeding pertinent information to Mark directly through his brain. It took on the appearance of a HUD to Mark, still staring at the inside of the armor, but his brain told him he was seeing through the sensors as if they were his own eyes.

Sarah tracked his eyes, moving the view to where he wanted to look. He moved as much as the suit would let him—which wasn’t much—yet the way it moved and reacted just felt right.

“Looks good from here. What’s your diagnostic readout?” Gomez watched Mark as he made notes with his NIAI.

Mark pushed him the raw data feed as he ran through system checks which the nanites, Sarah, and the suit’s processing center were already running through, unable to find a flaw with the operating system and coding he’d created. So far, he reminded himself as the diagnostic came back, telling him he was operational.

“All right, try the M20s.” Jess received the same readout from the suit.

Mark cycled the guns on his forearms. The trigger assembly fit into his fists perfectly as the barrel swung up and locked underneath his forearm. He rotated the barrels, able to completely rotate around his forearm while the trigger assembly stayed in the same position. The two gray blocks were ammunition already loaded into the rifle at ninety degrees so Mark could always reload by slapping his forearms against his sides.

Inside the barrel, the accelerator rails opened till they were touching the walls of the outer barrel and then closed so there was just a centimeter-wide hole.

Mark rotated the M20s. The trigger assembly stayed in his hand before it and the barrel pulled back, with Mark grabbing the hilts of his seven-foot-long mono-blades. He changed back to the guns, switching between the blades and M20 a few more times.

“Is that fast enough for when you’re merged?” Jess said through the net.

“Yeah. I was making it slower to make sure everything was perfect,” Mark said through his external speakers, demonstrating by making the M20 assemble and disassemble so fast Jess and Gomez swore they couldn’t see it move.

“Show-off,” Jess growled, a twinkle in her eye as Gomez looked on appreciatively.

“Jess, I know you’re the one who made them, so I don’t think I’m the one who’s completely showing off—well, maybe a little,” Mark admitted, pinching his fingers close together.

“All right, you’re cleared to start up power source initiation.”

Everyone was tense as Mark sent a prompt to Sarah as the anti-matter power source started to release stored energy. Mark felt the power of the suit, a power no one else could understand. He wanted to run, to soar. It was as if he could run through a mountain or jump from space.

He felt alive, alive in a way he had never felt before. Information was at his fingertips; power surged through his body. He was a force of destruction. It was easy to see how someone could get drunk on merging, on the power that lay within them.

“Anti-matter was a good idea,” Mark said, barely stopping himself from merging. Just imagining what he’d be able to do filled him with pure, unadulterated and scary excitement.

If he was going to make a unit of people with the same abilities, he was going to know them better than they knew themselves.

This power…it could change humanity, and Mark was the gateway.

Chapter 11

SLS Shadow

Tricticus, Emarl system

5/3351

“We’ve been cleared for entry. They’re rolling out the Bellona to provide support,” Carla commed Chen, bringing him awake as he found he was already out of his bunk. After a few seconds of walking, he was on the tiny bridge. Carla vacated his seat, changing to her own as he sat down and pulled up the clearance.

“Thank you, Carla. Taelyon, if you will.”

“My pleasure, sir.” She turned toward the camp along their flight plan.

“Weapons?” Chen asked. The ship was so small he didn’t need to use his NIAI to communicate.

“Online and ready to rock,” Travestki said.

“Engineering?”

“All green across the board,” Carla said.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Chen grinned as the ship started to shake as they entered the atmosphere. Grins spread across the room as the g’s pushed them back in their seats as they spit through the atmosphere, coming out and spinning. Taelyon let out a whoop, which Captain Chen deemed unacceptable for a man of his rank—however much he wished to do it.

“Targets! Weapon’s firing. Opening missile ports,” Travestki said. The weapons fired on mostly automatic as they passed over the ground at Mach nine. Travestki took over the two heavy turrets on the relative undercarriage of the ship.

The heavy rail guns could be heard through the ship as they spit their rounds and turned the ground into massive craters and blue gore as they ran down groups of Maraukians with laser-like precision. Missiles slammed into larger groups, creating a blue-white brilliant flash as space-classed weapons removed sand dunes and thousands of Maraukians in an instant.

The herd commander’s guns were tracking the stealth ship; their sensor suite allowed them to compensate for the ship’s incredible speeds as their grunts fired with them—a ship that was near undetectable unless you could physically see it. Plasma and coilguns fired in return, pitting the stealth ship as Taelyon hurtled them through the air in a stomach-churning display of aerobatics that would’ve ripped a lesser ship in half multiple times. Chen thought the Shadow was going to as well.

“This is Shadow. Coming in hot and ready. Hope you have the door open.”

“Ready and waiting, Shadow. Laying down fire.”

The images Chen had seen from space had seemed a little unreal but now he was awed as Bellona spat out from around the base, joined with an artillery barrage that laid into the Maraukians like a sledgehammer against jelly. The Bellona, every time he saw them, made him re-evaluate ground pounders’ might. Bellona just left Chen in awe as it would wipe out thousands of Maraukians in seconds, shrugging off the Maraukians’ fire and keep going.

Chen’s stomach was in his throat as he saw the view for a few seconds before Taelyon dropped and made a straight dive for the deck faster than even the Maraukian commanders could track, pulling up and leveling out to a closed hangar door. The door opened as they were a few hundred meters out. Taelyon fired her braking thrusters as the base’s landing AI used gravity compensators to slow the ship rapidly. Chen felt himself nearly black out from the g’s before they hung in mid-air. Taelyon cut power to the engines as the landing AI took over, settling them onto a cradle.

“Let’s try to not do that again,” Chen said to the green faces of his crew—except for Taelyon, who’d clearly enjoyed the hellish ride. Damn fighter jockey, through and through. He sighed into the quiet room; a weight lifted from his shoulders as they listened to the popping and crackling of the stealth ship’s hull as its heat-dissipating underlay bled heat as fast as it could.

Their cradle came to rest in a hangar bay with resupply drones already attaching themselves to the hull of the ship and getting to work. Engineers, from the color of their dress, were already studying the ship; repair bots scanned it as they pulled the reports straight from Carla.

“All right, let’s get some fresh air and a shower.” Approval ran through the ship in grunts and whoops as they shut down their systems, cracked the hatch and wandered toward their assigned rooms. Chen was the last to follow, double-checking the shutdown and talking to the engineers who were already getting to work.

“Please, for the love of God, sort out that recycler. It’s been broken for a month and a half,” he said as he met the chief engineer on his walk out of the ship.

“Yes, sir. I can smell it.” The man held his nose, as his men did likewise. One grabbed masks from their supplies; quite a few of them looked an interesting shade of green.

Chen grinned to himself as he hurried off to a much-needed shower. Maybe three.

Chen had been woken after a good four hours of sleep, being summoned to the base commander’s office. Dutifully, he’d put on his new uniform—as stores had incinerated his last one with a certain amount of glee—and ran as fast as he could to the legate’s office.

“Hello, Captain Chen. Well rested and fed, I hope.” Legatus Pullo scanned information flashing across a hologram of the base, wearing full Jupiter armor except for the helmet that was clamped to his arm.

Chen didn’t miss others’ noses wrinkle. Pullo, whether he noticed it or not, had the courtesy not to bring it up. Still should’ve had the third shower. He mentally kicked himself as he replied to the legate. “Yes, sir.”

“I doubt that very much,” Pullo said with a knowing tone. “I have talked with Legatus legionis; the information has reached Roma and stirred things up quite a bit. Meaning as soon as I can clear you for flight, you’ll be heading toward Roma. You will also be carrying a group of VIPs and a package.”

“Yes, sir. When do we leave?”

“Two days. Get as much rest as possible. I don’t know when you’ll be able to get any more.”

“Understood.”

“Good luck, Captain.” Pullo clasped his forearms. “Get home safe.”

Chapter 12

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

5/3351

“I had no idea what a merge was like,” Ava said from beside Mark, leaning against the coffin which held the second suit. It was the first time in the two days since Mark had put on the suit where they’d had time or opportunity to talk. Since then, he’d been doing test after test as the development team gathered as much data as possible.

Mark looked at her questioningly. “Oh, with the tank. It’s different, I’ll say that. I don’t think you have experienced a true merge yet, though.”

“Why not?”

“Well, what did it feel like to you?”

“Like I was connected to everyone’s thoughts—that I knew they were doing work as well as I was. It was like I could sense them through everything, working as one to complete our goal.”

“That is kind of like a merge but not really.” Mark pushed off the vat tank, moving around a medico, and sat against the wall across from Ava.

“So what is it like?”

“It’s completely and utterly indescribable.” Mark had to laugh, pausing in thought. “You stop being a person. You become a god. Reactions faster than light. Thoughts as fast, too—fully formed thoughts, with all of the information added in. You know exactly what will happen when you do something. Everything the user thinks, the NIAI supplies instantly—no lag. The NIAI knows—sometimes before the user asks—what they’re going to say. Your body surges with power to do anything. It’s…wonderful.”

“What do you think it’ll be like interacting with other merged people?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I have no idea what it’ll be like. Well, that’s wrong. I have some ideas on what might happen, such as we’ll be communicating on a level faster than you could even think possible. Information flow could be seamless ideas from munifices to centurions, combining into battle plans in seconds. Until there’s two merging capable people, it’s all theoretical, though.” Mark finished with a wave.

“Wait, why don’t you communicate via the net?”

“If I was to, then I could possibly blow out your NIAI’s processors. I have a step-down program to make it easier to communicate via the net but haven’t had the time to test it so I’m stuck with my external speakers for now.”

“Huh. That’s got to suck.”

“It does. Currently I’m playing a simulation as I’m talking to you. I just run faster, which means waiting is just pure hell.”

“Now I see why you uploaded so many videos and simulation games.”

Mark got a message from the team. “Looks like time for more testing.”

“All right. I’ll be watching your vitals from here,” Ava also picked herself off from the coffin and walked over to her workstation. “Have fun.”

“Oodles and oodles,” Mark replied sarcastically as once again he was swarmed by the excited development team.

Finally, the excitement had worked its way through the development team. With all of the tests complete, they pored over the data and left Mark to his own devices.

“Pullo on the net.”

“Connect me.” Sarah automatically initialized the step-down program they’d finished thoroughly testing.

“All right, looks like based on what the design team says, you’re fully functional.”

“Woo-hoo—I’m normal,” Mark said sarcastically.

“Anyway, they’ll be departing tonight with the spare suit for Roma.” Sarah already flashed him the information.

“Yes, sir.” Mark couldn’t hide the bite in his words.

“I’m sorry it’s so sudden.”

“It’s the military—everything’s sudden, before you sit there and wait.”

“Ain’t that the truth of it? I trust you’ll see to the details.”

“On it already.”

“Of course you are. Talk soon.” Pullo cut the channel.

***

“What the fuck is that?” Carla said.

A set of powered armor walked into the hangar. She had to blink a few times. It was so dark, the light around it seemed to be absorbed by it. It was the same as the carbon hendral layer of the legionnaires’ shields buried beneath other metals. They followed the crowd of VIPs the Shadow was supposed to be escorting.

“No idea. There isn’t anything in the NIAI data archives either,” Liviana reported from beside Carla. Above the group, a ten-foot-tall seamless armorite crate hovered underneath a grav lift. Loading bots took over, carrying the crate away into the stealth ship’s tiny cargo hold.

A black-haired man—apparently the leader of the crowd of VIPs—carried his single duffel over his arm.

“By the gods, what is that smell?” His eyes actually watered at the smell. In the rush to get the ship ready, the recycler had been suspiciously left untouched, much to the angry words of the captain and the crew.

Great way to start off. Chen put the engineering section’s problems to words. “Our waste recycler was broken on our previous mission and the engineers were unable to fix it.” He smiled sweetly but he so wanted to growl.

The man’s face was thunderous as he turned to his people. Carla felt the worst as the man opened his mouth to condemn them.

“All right. Gomez, get us some raw parts. Maxine, I want an overlay for the ship, including a full list of problems and necessary upgrades. Jess, hook up a forge to the main fusion plant. Mark, could you hook up the ship to the flush system?”

The group split up, smiles—actual smiles—on their faces as they set to work. Carla was amazed as scanners appeared, with the group of VIPs happily doing the work of ship engineers. The one presumably named Jess walked past Carla with a good-sized box in her arms, one of the trio of hyped-up individuals excitedly talking.

The massive suit hoisted the three-ton tube and attached it to the ship’s flush system. Gomez and his team where already pulling grav carts covered in what looked like broken parts.

“Why are you getting broken parts?”

“Come and see. Oh, and I’m Charles, by the way,” he said after getting a look from a stunning blonde. “Not my fault I forget niceties,” he muttered under his breath. “First officer Carla and my engineering head Liviana.”

“Pleasure.” He shook their hands and led them inside the ship. “It really isn’t any better inside here.” He waved his hand in an attempt to dissipate the smell, giving up after a few moments as they entered the main power plant of the stealth ship.

The box that Jess had brought in was now opened up and connected to a direct power feed to the fusion plant. Liviana studied the work, nodding in satisfaction. The box had two openings, one at the top—which was a silver mass of nanites and a tray.

“Let’s get some air fresheners for the meantime, Jess.” Dutifully she put in something on the view screen interface to the side of the box. The nanites moved as a solid object was pushed out of the tray. Carla and Liviana watched in rapt awe as an air recycler was produced. One of Jess’s crew picked it up, their eyes glistening as they handed it to Charles, who promptly turned it on and replaced the foul smell with vanilla.

“Better.”

“Maxine just finished her scans. Everything’s internal and Gomez’s got the parts we need. He’s on his way in.”

“I’m going to box whoever made this thing ’round the damned head.” Gomez could be heard yelling as he squeezed through the stealth ship’s tiny corridors. “All right, here you go.” He stood at the entrance of the room and handed what looked like a split armorite beam to Liviana.

“Put it in the shiny stuff,” he said under his breath, just audible to everyone else as Liviana’s ears went beet-red as she did so. The nanites devoured the materials as brand-new parts spit out of the tray.

“I bet you weren’t ever shown what a forge was, were you?”

“No, sir. I only saw them in training manuals; they’re rarer than carbon hendral,” Liviana said in rapt awe as Carla looked at the tiny box in similar surprise.

Gomez was handed parts from along the human chain he’d made through the ship, handing them to Liviana, who gave them to Jess’s crew, who sorted them out along the side of the wall or put them into the forge.

“Everyone, once they get one, is focused on making useless junk, not stuff that will be of any use.” Charles threw his arms up in annoyance as he walked out. Carla tailed him as they squeezed past Gomez’s bulk and outside again.

“Maxine?” Charles said over a net. Including Carla, Gomez, Liviana, and Jess, there was another person on the net but Carla’s NIAI couldn’t identify it.

“Completed scans of the entire ship with Mark’s help,” she said by way of explanation. “The structure is fine. It’s due for a software upgrade. The recycler system we can do in flight, as well as work on the power and weapon systems. The heat sync systems need to have some dock maintenance. Other than that, it’s basically just what we want to do. I accessed the prototype’s database and it showed me how to get thirty percent more out of the power plants.”

“How? It would go past capacity,” Liviana interjected.

“It would surpass its current capacity yes, but by increasing the reflective effect of the shielding and increasing the accuracy of the lasers and refinement system of the bottle, it’s easily possible,” a voice rumbled, talking just slow enough for them to understand. “Flushing the waste system now. I put my parts underneath the recycler list. Jess, there’s also some minor leaking here.”

“Estimate till ready?” Charles asked the group.

“You’re fine right now; you can do all of the stuff in jump or sub-light.”

“Will you guys ever stop tinkering with everything you see?” another voice said, in faux angry tones as it came onto the net.

“We were just leaving and then we found out no one fixed the waste recycler,” Maxine replied from the ramp as Carla came out. Although Maxine was a great looking blonde, the brunette in front of her was a stunner.

“You just want to see if the tricks you’ve learned from Mark will work, don’t you?”

“Girl’s got to show off at some time.” Maxine flicked her hair.

The speaker cracked a smile; the brunette did the same.

A straight knockout, Carla thought as the captain opened a private net.

“Carla, you mind telling me why there’s people running around my ship pulling things apart and there’s a box that makes things seemingly miraculously out of my main power plant?”

“Captain, they’re fixing our recycler system and giving us a few upgrades.”

“What kind of upgrades?”

“More power from the power plants, something about weapon systems, and a software upgrade. Ask one of them, but be nice—they’re also our VIPs.”

“I’ll do that. Chen out.”

Mark, the mysterious suited man, asked her to join a private net with him and Charles.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” he started off.

“With what?”

“I have two satellites I want to send into the system to do some further analysis of it, but it would take weeks with me using the launcher here. I was wondering if you could drop them off on your way to the jump point. They have sub-light systems, so they can guide themselves to where’s best and I can attach them to your hull so they don’t take up any room.”

“So that’s what you’re working on?” Charles said.

“I’ll need to see them first.” Carla rubbed her chin in thought.

“Here you are.” Two cylinders were brought in on an anti-grav lift, covered in folded solar arrays. Thrusters protruded from the rear and the sides.

“Liviana, could we give these a lift?” She sent a picture of them to her.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ten minutes later, Chen okayed them.

The massive suit took off his helmet. A silver line appeared where it joined to his neck. He attached it to his chest; his face and veins seemed weird for a split second, making Carla think it had never happened. She shrugged and she turned. The three men—Charles, Mark, and Chen—were walking on the catwalk which connected with the stealth ship’s cradle and furiously talking about upgrades.

Once it became clear they were doing their best to not only repair Chen’s ship but upgrade it, they’d become instant friends, with Chen doing all he could to help.

“Well, the next time you’re in Roma, look me up for a beer, Mark.”

“Certainly will, Captain Chen. Though I think you’ll soon regret taking Charles and his crew on. They might decide they want to redesign the whole ship in mid-flight.”

“Well, the stealth ship has been in production for ten years. Even off the base model, there are modifications we could make—newer, high-density weapon systems for sure. The propulsion…”

“You are not pulling my ship apart until it’s safely in a dock. For now, just the easy stuff,” Chen said in a warning tone.

Charles just smiled as he made some notes. Chen shook his head, grinning, his own eyes alight with the thoughts and ideas for a new stealth ship.

The development team met up with the four of them as they said their final good-byes, leaving Ava and Mark on the catwalk. The catwalk withdrew as the cradle moved to the accelerator line.

Sirens sounded as the AI warned every one of the line being put into use. Hatches opened to the sky. The AI, satisfied everyone was clear of the line, magnetized it and hurled the stealth ship out of the base and through the atmosphere into the space beyond.

“I’m going to miss them,” Ava said as the hatches closed behind the ship. She and Mark turned back to the hatch that would take them into the barracks.

“Me too.” Mark put his helmet back, fusing it back together.

“I heard you’re being put on active duty with my crew.”

“Yup, looks like you’re stuck with me a little longer. Want to introduce me?”

“Sure thing.” Ava twirled around, Mark in tow.

“When’re you going to tell them what those satellites are really for?”

“A man never reveals his GOTH plan.”

“Right,” Ava said in a tone that made it clear she didn’t understand what in the hell he’d just said.

Chapter 13

Legionnaire Tower

Roma, Hellenic system

6/3351

It had been three weeks since Chen had left when Damus contacted Pullo.

“Hello, Pullo. It’s been awhile.”

“Yes, Commander of Roma’s Legions.”

“I’ll cut through the shit. The information Chen provided us is scary—terrifying, in fact. I’ve got orders from the senate to proceed with manufacturing the weapon systems as fast as possible based on schematics and information provided by Charles’s team. Though there’s a catch: for us to make weapons, the suits need to take a backburner, which means I’ll only have enough suits for twenty in five months’ time.”

“Twenty? What about the forges?”

“They’re all being turned over to re-arm, and bring everything to fighting trim. The weapon systems we know and the suits we can make with people, so they want to go with that.”

“I agree in being safe and while the forges are new, they could help us immensely. We could make a suit in a day. Mark says he’ll only be able to make one every six months by himself and he’s rated as a level fourteen morph.”

Damus’s eyebrows looked as though they were racing for the ceiling. “I didn’t know he was that high of a morph. It still doesn’t change anything; the senate likes to go with the tried and tested methods. Including with the suits.”

“This doesn’t sound good.”

“The merger initiative that will be run by Martin Faust will look into the advantages and disadvantages of the suit; they’re to test the suit and report back to me and the senate on their findings.”

“That could take years!”

“Yes, but I didn’t tell you anything.”

“Sir?”

“I was wondering how our recruiting was going on Crisidium and if they were using the forges they wanted.”

“They’re currently under attack but since we’ve cleared out our AO, we’re coordinating a relief force. I believe they’ve been interested in the forge technology and would like to get some. I’m thinking we could ask them to make some armor for troops who wish to join or need new armor.” The two men’s eyes glinted conspiratorially.

“As is their right. After Mark’s work, it might be beneficial to see if he fits into a leader’s role, training these new recruits.”

“Yes, sir. I agree it will be most beneficial to the new recruits.” Pullo and Damus locked eyes, silent agreement passing between them.

“Well, good luck, Legatus, for the people.”

“Always.” Pullo finished the saying as they cut the connection. The hologram turned to that of Crisidium, one of two surviving city-states left on Tricticus.

***

Centurion Michales felt the now familiar shudders through the floor and saw the water in his bulb shake as Mark walked back inside the Death Dealers’ barracks. The Death Dealers still stared at the Pluto-powered armor suit. It was hard not to.

“Seems you’ve gone up a few pay grades since I last saw you.” Michales grinned. His NIAI highlighted the rank change to a centurion. It was uncommon, but Michales and Mark would work it out.

Mark took off his helmet; the room watched as nanites sluiced together and then retreated down his neck. “I was happy just being a damned grunt. Now I have to do all of this thinking stuff.” Mark sighed with emphasis.

“You thinking, that’s rich,” Ava said from her bunk, to the laughs of the others.

Michales grinned with them. Mark had quickly shown he was a natural leader and damned smart, plus his nanites meant they’d found it easier to get their gear repaired by him instead of the engineers, who were swamped with fixing the base still.

“I’m not here to take your place, Michales. Just give me an open spot. I’ll be an evocatus if need be. I don’t want to disrupt the command structure.”

A wave of relief washed over Michales. He did not want to have leadership disputes with this man, and he’d seen him in just training.

“Thanks, Mark. In that case, can you take over the fourth line? Guertex was transferred.” Michales streamed the information to Mark.

“I’m on it,” Mark said as Sarah streamed information of the twenty people he was now in charge of.

“The fourth contubernium is used to weed out which commanders will proceed and which will fail. It’s their job to test the commanders,” she informed him.

A smile touched Mark’s lips at the implied challenge.

Michales opened a private channel, using his NIAI, so his lips didn’t move as he walked back to his bunk and Mark turned to his contubernium’s bunks. “Look after fourth contubernium. They’re a good bunch.”

“I will, Centurion. Any tips?”

“Ask Dominik.”

“Thank you, Centurion.”

Mark walked away, seeking out Evocatus Dominik.

Chapter 14

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3351

“Suits locked up. Walk and talk.” As helmets went on and weapons were checked, Michales continued the briefing to all of the decani, the men and women who led the contuberniums. They’d heard it hundreds of times over the last week.

“We’re finally going to provide support to Crisidium.” A 3-D map opened in front of all of the contubernium, showing a blob of armorite that seemed to have grown out of a mountain range, stretching to a natural harbor and farmland covered in a brilliant blue sea. “We’re going to be attached with the Ape Killers. Crisidium’s been breached in a few places, so we need to end this quickly. Questions?”

“How bad are the breaches?” Alexandra, the second contubernium’s leader, asked.

“They’ve gotten through five blast doors in some areas. Updates from the net are available.”

Sarah flashed the readouts to Mark, who passed it down to Dominik and Xers, his decani.

“Anything else?” Everyone readied themselves and their gear, indicating they didn’t have any further questions.

“All right, see to your contuberniums,” Michales said, dismissing them all.

Mark went through the same diatribe with his contubernium, letting the decanus assign roles.

They entered a cavernous hangar with Bellona and Badger land transports. They had massive angled blast shields that would shrug off the heaviest Maraukian fire raised in the air as centuriae loaded into transport holds were lowered into place. The transport holds were simple crates with harnesses lining the walls and the center aisle. Each connected to the Badger’s power plants and external weaponry.

Mark was the last of his contubernium to enter, checking everyone was there. He sat in the harness, which fit awkwardly over his armor. Grav lifts pulled the crate into the air, slotting it into place between catwalks made to deploy the legionnaires in seconds. Clicks sounded as power and data feeds were connected to the crate, taking the suits off internal power and charging them if needed.

“Guns online. Switching feed,” Fredrick commed as he took over his contubernium’s remote guns on the Badger’s armor, still up in the air and supported by massive hydraulics wider than Mark was tall.

“Same here,” Hailey said as she took another.

That sorted, Mark changed his view to the hangar’s remote sensors, looking at the Bellona rotating their guns. The Bellona power plants came alive one by one, as the Badger’s blast shields closed and sealed. The gunners in the crates checked their arcs and confirmed channels with their close support.

“This is Legatus Pullo. Give ’em hell.”

The legionnaires added their guttural grunts to the noise in response as the doors opened to the hell beyond. Artillery which had been pounding the Maraukians had turned the sand to a blue-black glass covered hell. The Bellona cruised out of the hangar into the hellish display. The Badger’s sixteen two-story wheels left the cermite floors of the hangar and hit the sand, racing after the Bellona.

Mark changed to the Badger’s sensors. Drop-ships, ships used to transport two centuriae of legionnaires usually from a ship to the surface of a planet, were spat out of the camp’s main dome. Heat and dust waves haloed the magnetic launching rails as they departed the drop-ship’s turrets, searching for targets as soon as they were free of the dome. Their rail guns and auto-launchers added to the scene of destruction outside the camp.

Mark rocked with the Badger as it drove through the hell, crushing sand dunes and racing behind the Bellona tanks. Every weapon quested for the sign of a Maraukian and mercilessly cut them down when they were found.

The Bellona and Badgers broke into groups, speeding off for their objectives as the drop-ships turned for their reserve positions.

Information pinged back from forward observers deployed in the mountains around Crisidium with high-powered stealth rail guns, ready to drop the hammer when the rest of Camp Epsilon’s legionnaires caught up with them. They used stealth systems to get a view of the battlefield from the mountains around Crisidium, throwing all of the raw data back at the legionnaires.

Sarah sorted through the data, spitting out a clear image to Mark and his contubernium, which he bounced to Michales.

Crisidium lay nestled along a mountainous shoreline of a massive river, creating three sides the Maraukians couldn’t assault from for the lack of their fieldwork skills. This left them only the main entrance into the city-state. The wall and the city had been covered in armorite and stretched hundreds of feet into the air to encapsulate everything. It was a massive feat but it had worked and provided the city with air cover and a wall.

Accelerator tube batteries fired from the armorite covering rained down hell upon the Maraukian swarm, which was a sea of gray, blue, and glinting weaponry. Batteries would stop firing, sinking back into the dome as others protruded and began firing in order to conserve their limited ammunition.

Mark zoomed out of the city-state to the dried-up riverbed thirty kilometers back. It had once been a raging river but it’d been blocked off by an unlucky Maraukian assault barge diverting the river. He saw the Bellona taking position along the bank; trucks specially made to reload on the move attached to the armored rears. The Badgers took up position beside the dominating Bellona, all of them just hidden by the side of the river.

“Ten seconds till ramp down.”

Mark plotted positions with interlocking fire for his contubernium. As the countdown finished, he punched his harness, accidentally breaking it, but it didn’t matter. He walked out of the ruins of the harness, running with the tide as explosive bolts released the ramps. Legionnaires rushed down them to their assigned positions. Mark checked all twenty of the men were in place. A rush of combat hormones flooded his system as he climbed just under the bank. Miraculously, no one fired as they waited for the timer on their HUDs to crawl down.

A feral grin split Mark’s face as it reached zero. The Badgers and Bellona pushed forward so their weapons were visible. Their weapons bellowed as the legionnaires fired across the front of the Maraukians, dissolving the unaware rearguard.

The barrels under Mark’s forearms rose up; he grabbed the trigger mechanism, locking with the main unit on his forearm. He pulled the trigger as the assembly turned so the barrel was on top and unleashed twin streams of silver. The weapon fired one-millimeter rounds traveling at a high fraction of C, turning Maraukians into a hydrostatic bomb.

The Badgers dropped back, unable to take any concentrated fire. Support fired into the ground, securing the transport as accelerator tubes extended from their armor, raining down 480-millimeter shells.

Sarah careted commanders; Mark changed his targets, using the mass of fire to hide his position. Though the silver streams created by the osmium burning up were clear as day. Any counterattack was thrown in disarray as hyper-aggressive Maraukians wildly charged and fired at the legionnaires. The commanders took a few minutes to understand what was happening; thousands of Maraukians died as they pulled themselves together. But such a loss was a small drop in the bucket compared to the million-strong force.

Legionnaires stayed in cover, shooting overhead and using their remote sights. Mark sat down, keeping his forearms above the top of the riverbank and tapping into the sensors on his fists and guns. Sarah scanned through information channels ranging from the direct feeds from the suits’ sensors to the sensor arrays in Crisidium.

The map updated, showing Maraukians through more than half of the cut-off corridors and slicing through more quickly. The defenders were on their last legs; training and the will to defend their families were the only things that had kept them going this long and they needed reinforcements soon.

The legion might be cutting down thousands of Maraukians in minutes but there were hundreds of thousands of them and they could soak up the casualties while pressing against the already defeated defenders and leak into the city.

“Michales, we need to get reinforcements into Crisidium.” Mark looked around the map, searching for what he needed.

“I know but we aren’t able to.”

“I have a plan but I don’t know if you’ll like it.” He flashed the plan to him.

“I don’t like it, but it just might work. Get back to you.”

Sarah used the Pluto-powered armor’s anti-grav systems to pick up the high-density blocks that fed the M20 forearm-mounted weapon systems, giving Mark a continuous stream as he waited.

“It’s been approved.” Michales then switched to the general channel. “All right, we’re changing position; we’ll be providing reinforcements along with the Ape Killers on the ground for Crisidium. The 38th Hammers and the 19th Bones will be dropping in from the reserve. Fourth contubernium, take the lead.”

Mark opened the fourth contubernium’s communications net. “Prepare to move in five. Grab as much ammunition as you can. Heavy support, coordinate hand-off.”

Chapter 15

Drop-ship 192

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3351

“This is insane.” Drop-ship pilot Miles Julian had done some crazy shit in his time—hell, he liked to do crazy shit—but this was bat-shit crazy. Though it was also the legion. So he dialed up his engines, gunning the forty-thousand-ton drop-ship just a thousand meters from the ground.

“So you’ve said.” George Alexakis checked the map’s readouts and the ejection tubes for the suits.

“Though it’s gonna be a damn interesting sight to see.” Julian was unable to hide his grin as Alexakis shook his head.

Chapter 16

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3351

“Sir! I have the legion requesting we open the overhead over the playing fields!”

“What?” Captain Malelli yelled as his NIAI pulled up the information. “Shit shit shit! Open the overhead and clear the area immediately!”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Malelli watched as a drop-ship came over the mountains that encircled Crisidium. It turned as it cleared the mountains so it was sideways; its drop hatches faced Crisidium and spit hundreds of objects through the air and into the overhead into Crisidium’s playing fields.

“Close the overhead and get someone to look after those supplies. Tell General Gelall he has reinforcements.”

“Show of force. Give that drop-ship cover!” the fire support officer said. Accel tubes and turrets opened up on the groups which fired at the drop-ship, which was banking down the back of the mountains to get out of the line of fire.

Plasma bolts from herd commanders hit the drop-ship, heating its armor before covers across Crisidium disappeared. Accelerator tubes and weapon systems sprouted across the surface, putting use to the ammunition the drop-ship had spat inside its walls and hammering back at the herd commanders and normals, seeking out those who tried to shoot at the drop-ship and cutting them down.

***

“WOO HOOO! That was fucking INSANE!” Miles Julian whooped as he pulled the drop-ship back under the cover of the mountains. He pushed the engines in the red as he powered out of his banking maneuver and away from Crisidium, using the mountains as cover.

His past doubts were forgotten in the ride of adrenaline that brought him and the remaining crew around the mountains toward some much-needed repairs after being shot up by so many coilguns and plasma bolts, no matter the cover fire Crisidium had given them.

***

Clink clink clink. A knock from the harbor door sounded out as Commander Taesili ripped his eyes from the feed of a drop-ship—basically a brick in the sky—being piloted as if it were an Ares fighter.

“The hell?” he asked no one in particular. He changed the feed to outside to the sight of three legionnaires in front of the massive harbor door.

“Open the door. Looks like we have guests but I don’t know what three people are going to do,” he broadcasted to his squad.

They opened the door slightly to admit the three.

“You’re going to need to open it more. You didn’t think just us three are going to stop the horde at your door, did you?” The lead man, with the rank of centurion on his breast, walked in as the harbor water stirred and then bubbled and frothed as suits walked out of its murky depth. Ranks of legionnaires walked out in organized lines, their bodies covered in ammunition and spare weapons. As they rose from the sea, they flicked their barrels to remove any water in them.

It was a sight to see: over three hundred legionnaires appeared from nothing; water fell off them as they moved past Taesili.

Then, a towering black suit, clearly out of place, rose out from the murky depths, looking like an old bumpy frag grenade with two legs with all of the ammunition on him. Water sluiced off its armor, which seemed to have a deep-purple haze around it as it walked out of the water and through the harbor doors Taesili’s men were now frantically opening wider as more and more legionnaires walked from the frothing harbor waters.

“Captain Malelli, you aren’t going to believe this...” Taesili said over his command net.

Chapter 17

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3351

After a few minutes of furious discussion, Mark was on the move again with the Death Dealers as they went to reinforce the Crisidium army where it had been pushed back from the wall. They broke up into lines. Mark checked everyone was still with him, slowing the pace as they came to the corridor they were supposed to clear. Each corridor was broken up with blast doors that Maraukians had to fight through to get to the next. They were the only way from the main wall to the center of Crisidium and they were abattoirs, made to inflict as many casualties as possible with remote weapon systems and blow-out panels that cut everything down inside of them with shrapnel. The Maraukians had made their way through half or more of these killing areas in the corridors and were only getting faster.

“All right, fourth contubernium shield wall, up!” Silently, with deadly precision, eight of the fourth contubernium pulled their shields made from the same material as Mark’s armor. They interlocked them together, with four low, four tilted high, as the rest of the contubernium slotted into the positions behind them. Xers and Dominik greened up, showing they were ready as they moved forward to the corridor they were to clear.

Sarah shut the blast door behind them as they walked to the last door where the Maraukians and the last of the defenders were waiting. Mark connected to the officer in charge of the men in the corridor ahead.

“When I say make a hole, push your people against the damned walls or we’re gonna be climbing over them.”

“I... yes got it,” the obviously drained commander said while Mark had Sarah confirm; he passed it onto his men.

“Shield wall, double pace.”

Everyone moved forward without even a shiver in the shields as they followed his instructions.

“Light jog,” he ordered as the blast door opened and not one legionnaire faulted as they kept running.

“Move out of the way!” Mark said to the officer. “Shield wall, sides turn in and then out when we’re passed them!”

The shield wall surged forward as the Crisidium troops clung to the walls, doing as Mark said.

“Halt when we hit the enemy. Fire as targets bear.” Mark’s M20s cycled up so they were above his forearm. Using the sensors built in, he held his arms above the shields and fired into the mass of Maraukians ahead of the shield wall. There wasn’t any way he could miss at this range.

The Crisidium troops had miraculously all made it to the sides of the corridor—at least those who had survived this far—as the legionnaires ran in like a battering ram, using their momentum to stun the Maraukians. Mark had put Dominik in charge of the second line directly behind the shield wall, giving him control of the swordsmen. Swords flashed between the shields as they opened, slashing Maraukians, while those in the third and fourth fired through the second-tier shields with special gun slots or around the sides, sending silver streams into the concentrated Maraukian mass.

“Get your men back to the collection point. We’ve got this now,” Mark said to the bone-weary officer who still hadn’t moved his troops.

The officer didn’t need to be told twice, taking his wounded—which was nearly every man under his command. They dragged, hopped and walked in a daze through the blast door behind Mark’s line, which closed and sealed Mark and his contubernium in with the Maraukians.

“Third line focus on the herd commanders.” Mark ordered.

The Maraukians’ drive and the close quarters worked for the legionnaires, creating a perfect bloodbath. They were cutting down their rate of fire to stop wasting ammunition as they moved forward. Only so many Maraukians could attack through the narrow hallways. In the beginning, they’d been able to hit the shield wall, but the force of fire cut the Maraukians down as if a hose against a sand sculpture.

“Move. Decanus, monitor pace. We’ve got them reeling—keep up the pressure.”

Usually the point defenses in the walls would deal with the Maraukians or at least provide some relief, though the ones in Crisidium hadn’t been installed or even made before the Maraukians had landed. So everything had to be done the hard way: with sword, shield, and rail guns.

Mark selected a sixty-millimeter flechette. Nanites on the base of his boots dug into the floor, securing him to the ground, as he fired what would be classed as a medium vehicle turret. Each shot shook his entire frame and made his audio sensors automatically deaden the noise as the dual cones of fire cleared down the corridor. The high-density flechettes tore anything they touched to a bloody mess.

“Advance double time!”

The shield wall moved forward as Mark reloaded. The ten seconds of hellish fire had drained whatever ammunition he had left. Reloading was as simple as moving his arms back, having Sarah line up the well with the block, and slapping them into place, then let the forearm rotate and repeat the process. Mark tapped the charging buttons with his thumbs. He chose fragmentation rounds at fifty millimeters, which the nanites happily formed as they continued through two more corridors. Mark let his legionnaires kill the Maraukians left in the remaining corridors until they came to the mouth of the corridor, to where the Maraukians breached the exterior wall.

Mark planted his feet, adding his M20s to the fire and dropping grenades from fifty meters ahead to two hundred and fifty where the wall was filled with an angry and violent sea of Maraukians. Mark felt the old feeling of fear.

In combat, everyone’s scared—no more and no less than those to their right and left. People’s responses to fear are as different as they are; some people shut down, some crack jokes and some get really, really angry.

Mark’s anger tripped his merge. Along his armor, seams formed and molded together.

It looked like a thousand small sparks, each one a smart round with an anti-matter droplet. They shredded anything hostile to Mark’s front.

“The Crisidium army has assembled the heavy rail guns. Use your shield walls to give them armor and close in defense and use them to move forward,” Centurion Michales said as Sarah showed icons for the guns moving on Mark’s HUD.

“Dominik, you got space in that wall?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Be ready for the heavies.” Mark came out of the merge. The autocannons and launchers retreated back into his armor as if they were never there. In the few seconds they’d fired, they’d depleted more than half of his remaining ammunition, actually eating the ammunition blocks on his body.

“Going to need to fix that.”

“Agreed. As you say, no such thing as too much firepower,” Sarah replied.

Dominik obviously said something as the shield wall opened just long enough for the heavy rail guns to slide into position.

“Second line, you’re first watch. Third, check your ammo and get some water into you,” Mark ordered through the contubernium’s net. “First line, stay as you are.”

A legionnaire with powered armor could hold a shield indefinitely but Mark would rather have them with rifles as a reserve. Now, once they had the heavy rail guns emplaced and fully integrated with the sensors of the room, they would kill anything within their arcs.

Or when Maraukians were concerned, it just slowed down their progress.

Chapter 18

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3351

“What’s happening?” High King Hael Desialias clamped his helmet to his blue smeared suit, still unused to the weird sensation of using his NIAI to communicate to others.

As a result, much to his personal guards’ complaints, he took off his helmet as often as possible. Plus, hell, he was a king; people needed to see his face when he talked, he’d said more than once. That left his royal guard and command team even more nervous wrecks than before, especially when he personally led to give the army breathing room in corridors.

“Four cohorts of legionnaires are currently in support, taking over the defense of the walls. We’re moving the units there to a rest, reload, and re-arm station,” commander of Crisidium’s forces Froleck Taleel answered.

“They brought ammunition, supplies, and heavy rail guns we’re using as mobile gun platforms, rolling them down the corridors and putting them in the middle of the shield wall. We’re pushing back the Maraukians at an amazing pace. Most ammunition is being turned over to external support, which is all online and actively pummeling the Maraukian swarm in front of the gates. The Bellona, Badgers, and four cohorts of legionnaires are dug into the Galesk riverbank.” Taleel queried his NIAI to ensure he had not forgotten anything. “That about sums it up, my king.”

“Looks like the legion have come once again to whisk our arses out of the damned fire by the Gods.” Hael snorted.

“They do have a knack for it. I forgot to inform you it is your daughter and Chyna Taleel who were deployed with the reinforcements.”

“Okay, well, if my daughter and your father are with them, we can be rest assured we’ll be free of the Maraukians in our corridors soon. Get everyone rested and I want engineers ready to fix these corridors as soon as possible. We’ll get these Maraukian bastards the hell out of our city,” High King Desialias said with finality. He looked around to the command group, all armored and sitting on whatever they could find, tired and strung out from weeks of fighting.

“After you get those guns moving, I want you all on the schedule for rest. Don’t want you making stupid decisions because you’re sleep fucked,” Hael said in a commanding tone.

“Yes, my king.” Commander Froleck Taleel gave a faint smile and a small nod as his king put his helmet back on.

“Me, on the other hand—I’ll have a little walk around, and I’ve got these guys here to watch my back so I’ll be safe.” He gestured to his royal guard, even now undoubtedly scanning the area from within their helmets, their weapons ready for any threat.

Hael grinned once his helmet was on. The command team had good intentions but Hael would take fighting in the frontlines over controlling from the rear any day. He knew many of them felt the same but he was still their king and they were protective.

Hael’s royal guard was filled with the finest warriors of Crisidium. Whether they had to be pulled from the far reaches of Tricticus or from the darkest jails, they were all loyal to their warrior king. All of them were sworn to the city and it was time they did something about helping out those on the frontlines again.

He did the rounds as his NIAI alerted him that the Death Dealers the unit his daughter was in had one of their contuberniums pushing the Maraukians into the main wall confines. He checked the schematic for the wall as he could see the legionnaires advancing steadily through the corridors, helped by everything that hindered the Maraukians. As much as it was strange, the NIAI was useful in certain situations, he allowed as he followed a bouncing ball.

Engineers were already rushing up with armorite processors to fix the damage done to the corridors and patch the wall if they were able to.

It sucks to be king sometimes. All he wanted to do was to rush down the corridors and put his own men and himself at the contubernium’s disposal to hold the wall and alleviate some of the pressure.

Instead, he continued walking through the med bays, careful not to get in the way as he tried to give a helpful word or a comfort to those left out of the battle. Many of the trained high-level medical morph users were too drained to use the nanite tanks except for the deadliest wounds. Otherwise, biogel and bandages were doing the trick.

So much death and pain had fallen upon his people; it pulled at his heart as he saw all of the wounded. Any fatigue he felt disappeared as he kept moving and seeing to his peoples morale and welfare. It was his job to protect them and he’d be damned if he was going to do anything but his all to do so.

***

Mark had used his nanites to bond the shields, creating a wall stronger than a destroyer’s. Dominik and Xers had taken over rotating through groups who would fire through the shields’ firing ports; the rest sat, ready to counterattack. The largest concern was keeping the heavy rail gun in the center of the shield wall resupplied with ammunition and stopping the Maraukians from hacking it apart or melting it into slag.

Mark had two silver lines running from his power plant to other suits, bringing whoever was connected into green levels.

The third contubernium of the Ape Killers announced their arrival to the corridor entrance that ran parallel into the same main wall. “Felt like joining the party,” Ivan Epaphras, commander of the third contubernium, said to Mark.

Mark opened up a general net between the two contuberniums. “So happy you could come. Just enjoying the view. It’s like a regular picnic.”

“Well, we forgot the beer and sandwiches.”

“You come late and you don’t even have the essentials? We’re going to have to talk about taking picnics in someone else’s hallway one-on-one when we get back. Can’t have a fellow optio forgetting the basics now.”

“Well, I believe there’s a despicable lack of beer, even for people of our standing, but I think I can get some people to rustle up some sandwiches.”

“Might as well send mine—don’t want you to bring back density blocks swearing they’re ration bars.”

“I’d never,” Epaphras admonished Mark, as if he would ever think such a thing—to the laughs of both contuberniums, who knew of Ivan’s infamous pranks.

There was a cross corridor that Mark got central command to open. Ammunition passed between the two groups and Mark was able to seal the shield wall to the actual walls with nanites and charge anyone running low.

The cross corridor was a massive slab of one foot of carbon hendral and a further twenty feet of armorite that retracted into the ceiling but when dropped, looked indistinguishable from the wall.

Mark sat along the wall. His nanite layer formed a tube he ate from; unlike the rations, which were a disgusting undistinguishable paste, he was having steak, potatoes, and gravy. Other people might be disgusted where the food came from, seeing as the suit recycled everything, from sweat and unwanted hair to any other excess waste he produced. It was all broken down and then reassembled into tasty food and drinkable water.

You wouldn’t think the legionnaires were at war the way they sat around joking about some trivial matter you’d expect to hear in a barracks. Mark checked in with Ivan and the command group every hour, otherwise talking with the legionnaires and getting to know them.

It was strange as the Maraukians were unlike any enemy he’d faced. They kept coming through the breach nearly continuously. Any human force would’ve stopped by now or pulled back to fire heavy weapons through the breach before trying to take it. The constant loss of herd commanders by legionnaire sharpshooters in the dried riverbed meant any kind of controlled push was usually dead before it began.

Mark and Ivan’s food bearers returned and handed out the Crisidium rations of some kind of meat and vegetables and a green type of bread.

“BREACH!”

Alerts flashed across his HUD. Sarah showed him the green dots of legionnaires turn into a sea of red as a contubernium was cut apart and pulled back through the corridor as they pulled themselves into some kind of semblance of order. The nearest herd commanders were already moving toward the new breach, opening it rapidly with vibro-blades.

Mark looked at the distances on the map. “Mark Victor requesting to be part of support. Dominik will take over command of my contubernium,” he said over his command network to Michales.

“There’s nothing we can do, Mark,” Michales said, pain in his voice as he watched.

“They’re alive, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s everything to do.”

Michales let out a breath in a hiss. “Do what you can.”

“Dominik?” Mark asked, making sure he’d gotten all of it.

“I heard, boss. I’ll hold the fort. Good luck.”

Mark was up and moving before Dominik had finished. He disengaged merging locks and his armor prepared for him to merge. He closed his eyes, feeling his hot breaths as he accelerated and sprinted at a hundred and eighty down his corridor.

Battle chemicals released and Mark’s breath seemed cold against their lips as Mark left his body behind and they became the Pluto-powered armor. Power rushed through every nanite, every inch of carbon hendral as they threw themselves into the air. Anti-grav systems worked seamlessly as they accelerated more and more.

They let out a murderous howl that shook the buildings of Crisidium as they passed. They were awake, they were merged and today they would do what they did best: kill the enemy.

***

“Shields, front! Shoot as you move into position!” Dodger yelled as confused and scared legionnaires were given direction and fell into place.

“I need those reinforcements now!” Dodger’s NIAI Alicia faithfully relayed through the command channels. Anyone close to them had their hands full; she knew it was probably futile but NIAI or not, she was going to do everything to keep herself and Dodger alive. Sensor readings picked up an anomaly, immediately getting her attention.

“One incoming suit. Can’t access information. It’s a minute out.”

One man? There’s no way. Unless… He pulled up the map as he watched the suit going through corridors adjacent to Dodger at speeds of three hundred kilometers an hour.

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” he said in his suit as he realized it. “Get me a channel to him!” The comm to Mark connected. “This isn’t time for heroics, Mark.”

“No, it’s time for superior firepower, though.” Mark’s voice came through the channel in a blur as Dodger recognized the super-speeded communication. Even the step-down program was having a hard time compensating.

Dodger cringed in pain at the volume as he wondered what the hell the maniac was up to now. Hope filled him as he lifted his M19. “Give them hell, boys and girls!” Dodger roared. He’d take as many as he could with him. He’d have an honor guard waiting for him in Valhalla yet.

***

“MARK! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” Dodger hoped the other man didn’t listen to him but wished he wasn’t going to just commit suicide for nothing. Dodger was a veteran and he knew he was going to die.

“No can do, Optio. Get behind the next blast door when I give the signal.”

“What signal?” Dodger winced. Mark needed to work on the step-down program. God, it hurt his head.

“You’ll see.”

Dodger couldn’t explain it but he could feel the humor behind the words instead of the emotionless words of talking over the net. “I will not have you being an honor guard for me and my legionnaires.”

“Honor guard? I don’t wish to die today, Dodger.”

Mark’s icon stood behind the final door of a nearby corridor which entered the same section. Dodger heard a whisper through the door and above the Maraukians grunts and fire.

The door opened before Mark as he opened fire. M20s turned muscle and bone into blue mist. The rounds hit with so much force the Maraukians turned into hydrostatic bombs.

Mark advanced, taking a knee so his suit could grip the floor and not blow him back as he fired.

Alicia showed Dodger the withdrawal plan open on his HUD. Shaking his head, he grinned ferally inside his helmet. There was a time and place for retreating.

“All right, boys and girls, that is Mark Victor, one of our own. Now, I ask those of you who would wish to retreat to do so now. The rest, we’re going to take back this wall and show these fucking Maraukians what happens when you pound on OUR door. Any of those not with me, step back. I won’t…”

The entire shield wall moved forward as one, the rear gunners reloading. Pride filled Dodger as new energy filled him.

“Let’s show the Maraukians what the Ape Killers name stands for! Second rank, fire! Third, reload. I want a continuous stream of rounds, as one. For-ward!” Again, like a well-oiled machine, the shield wall advanced as eons ago their forefathers had against every enemy on Earth with devastating effect.

“Huh!” the legionnaires said as their shields slapped the ground. The second covered their heads as the third rank fired over them with their M19s.

“Forward!”

“Huh!”

“Blades!” Dodger said.

Blades rang free in the first rank.

“Forward!”

“Huh!” The shield wall hit Maraukians. Blades were shoved out, cutting into Maraukians’ softer lower limbs, they twisted and then pulled back.

“Forward!” Dodger yelled.

“Huh!” Again, they pushed forward, blades sinking into Maraukian flesh. The second rank killed any Maraukian they’d stepped over.

They were beyond tired, beyond fatigued. They weren’t human anymore. They weren’t individuals. They were a machine. Blades flashed, rail guns cracked and shields slammed together as they advanced.

Their suits were covered in blue gore as they stomped over the bodies, always advancing. Here and there, a legionnaire went down. Without an order, the second rank flowed into their position and a person in the third rank replaced them.

Dodger replaced a man on the shield wall, advancing and covering the men and women behind him and to either side who did the same for him without thinking.

Mark spewed rounds. Gray light connected him to the Maraukians. He was holding back the tide, but Dodger sensed he couldn’t keep it up for long.

“Forward!”

“Huh!” The legionnaires, his legionnaires, pushed forward as one entity.

Dodger and the Ape Killers cleared the hall; the second line again making sure any Maraukians that fell stayed down.

“Turn and drive into them on the left; drive them out of the hole they came in. I’ll hold up fire on the right.” Mark’s voice sounded unnaturally calm as it cut through the chaos inside Dodger’s head.

“Shift left. Right side, cover the flank. Ready.” Dodger paused, drinking from his water tubes. “Shhh-ift!” The entire formation turned; the right collapsed so they faced sideways instead of forward. Blades continued to cut into Maraukians, trusting Dodger knew what he was doing.

“Forward!”

“Huh!” They advanced. And started to push the Maraukians back.

“The gods,” Dodger whispered in his helmet.

Mark knelt behind a pile of bodies that would’ve come up to a normal man’s chest. His forearm-mounted guns were rock steady even as they spat light at the Maraukian lines, dissolving the chaotic Maraukian mass now.

The gunners in the shield wall picked off the herd commanders every so often, making their herd confused and looking around as if they were lost.

The fire coming from the wall was too much for the other commanders to know which one had done it. They sprayed wildly with their coilgun and plasma guns mounted to their backs as they tried to run through the gap that was being pushed from the other side by other Maraukians.

Systematically, the shield wall moved forward, laying into the Maraukians as Mark cut them down as if a hose against toothpicks. The Maraukians still pushed. Soaking up their dead, they forged ahead to meet their own deaths.

Dodger lost all sense of time as he ordered his legionnaires forward. Changing his formations. Switching out the frontline with the second line, who were tired beyond thought. Always, constantly pushing forward. Throwing fresh bodies into the grinder and back out just before they collapsed from exhaustion.

“Armorite processors should be here in a few minutes to repair the wall. Reinforcements too. Get your men ready for turnover. I’m going to join the wall,” Mark said as Dodger assessed his new surroundings.

“Yes,” Dodger’s tired mind replied. He breathed and steadied himself. “Reinforcements coming in.”

He looked as the fresh legionnaires moved and took up his third and fourth lines. Mark moved and fired so he was behind the shield wall.

“First and second rank, push!”

The shield wall pushed against the Maraukians. Their blades came out, but they didn’t step forward.

“Switch!”

First and second rank stepped backward and turned sideways. Third and fourth rank flowed between them in one seamless movement. The new first and second rank’s shields snapped into place before the Maraukians pressed the attack.

“Forward!” Dodger said.

“Huh!” The wall moved once again, as if nothing had happened.

Dodger’s old first and second lines were spent. They were firing their M19s but they were reacting rather than acting.

Mark added his firepower into the mix, slowing them down but not stopping them completely. It had happened too many times before and Dodger saw it happening before his eyes. The Maraukians soaked up the casualties, running through the fire and gaining ground for every one lost. Mark had only been able to kill them so easily before because their commanders had been confused and scared as they had attacks from multiple sides. Now there was just one and they could throw their herd at it while they fired from a distance.

Now they would advance because of the lack of Dodger’s firepower and overrun them, losing all they’d gained.

His NIAI brought up a map as fifteen more people entered the room, their names unknown.

“Who the hell is that?” Dodger asked.

“Dodger, you don’t remember me? I’m hurt.” Captain Serouti of the Crisidium royal guard said back as he and those under his command slotted into a third line and raised their rifles.

Something looked odd and familiar about them. “You damn idiot, get back!”

“Just be quiet,” Serouti chastised as they opened up with M19As.

It still took a few rounds to put a Maraukian down, but it was a lot less than it took an M19.

It might just be what we need.

“Now let’s see if this works.” Mark braced himself as nanites attached him to the floor.

Their advance was gaining momentum once again. Then Mark unleashed hell. Discarding shells filled with hundreds of razor-sharp flechettes hit the Maraukians, killing the first few lines and the rest burying in the remainder’s skin. The Maraukians kept advancing as Dodger gave up on the new rounds just as anti-matter buried inside the flechettes erupted.

They were no more than the head of a needle big, but hundreds of them buried inside the Maraukians stopped them in their tracks. The air thundered with hundreds of thousands of the flechettes with adjusted timers as the first row of Maraukians exploded in gore. Another wave of anti-matter-filled flechettes crashed into the line behind them. It was pure destruction.

Where do we get these people?

The Maraukians couldn’t do anything being so close together. Now their strength in putting numbers through the breach turned to a disadvantage and a bloodbath.

“Ready, move. Halt.” Dodger, Mark, and the royal guard now made a moon defensive line with Mark at the center, already braced as he continued firing.

“Damn idiots were just standing there enjoying the view,” Serouti said, still not used to the stupidity of Maraukian normals.

“What the hell now?” Dodger asked wearily as he felt the ground shake.

“Bellona incoming.” Mark’s voice rolled through Dodger’s mind, pulling him out of his zone as he relayed it to the remaining legionnaires and royal guard.

Shields shifted and settled as they moved into position. Shrapnel rained against them as Crisidium’s and the legion’s accelerator tubes cleared the area around Crisidium. As soon as the reinforcements arrived, Dodger had them switch with his people before the next rush and sent the information to their leader.

Dodger was formally relieved, the fresh Crisidium auxiliaries and Roma legionnaires taking over.

He pulled back with Serouti; Mark had been adamant staying on the line, waiting.

Dodger watched as the reinforcements rushed forward. As soon as the bombing stopped, engineers with the newly made processors were already feeding anything on hand into them as they erected a new wall. The reinforcements peeled off to the weapons Mark fixed; silver tendrils running everywhere connected to him.

“All right, get some hot grub in you and check your suit charge.” Mark focused the Ape Killers’ minds as some looked numbly around, still not understanding what had happened.

Dodger numbly took a meal, taking off his helmet and eating by reflex, still watching as Mark changed to helping the engineers. The wall came together as fast as they could get the plating from the processors, using plasma welds to hold them in place.

Dodger looked away and to the men and women around him. Pride rang through him as he looked at the men and women he’d walked into and out of hell with. Sadness tinged his emotions as he looked for those who had not made it out of hell.

The reserve for the reinforcements connected power uplinks and replaced spent ammunition as the Ape Killers ate and caught some much needed rest, the reserve refusing to let them help.

***

Mark looked over the Ape Killers and the 195th’s reserve rushing around in organized chaos.

Mark finally came back from the line as Ava came over with the reserve unit’s medicos.

“Any medical problems?”

“No. All being looked to, thanks. Umm, what the heck’s this?” He pointed to the royal guards, who were now looking at the people they’d been fighting alongside suspiciously.

“Stupidity, that’s what it is,” she growled, moving on to check others.

“Bow when you’re in the presence of the high king of Crisidium!” a man wearing an official-looking garb yelled as he tried to not step on the body parts, his face quite pale from the sight and the smell.

Legionnaires continued doing as they had been before, ignoring the man.

“Bow! You damned peasants.”

“I’d mind my tongue if I was you,” Mark growled. Subsonics entered his voice as he took a seat next to Dodger; he took his helmet off and they nodded to each other as they ate.

The look the two of them shared was one of veterans, the nod the confirmation of a brotherhood forged in fire as they numbly ate food together, not needing words to express their feelings.

The official man, incensed and now with a target, pointed his finger in Mark’s face. “I will not have some low born like you insulting me and my king.”

“You keep pointing that at me and I’ll blow it off.” Mark noticed in his peripherals as the Ape Killers put down their meals, baring their teeth as their hands hovered near their M19s.

“I place you under arrest of the Crisidium police force. You will step out of your armor, which looks to be illegally modified. I will not have any more legionnaire scum talking to my king this way!” The man’s face was so close, he was spitting on Mark, who was altogether just not in the mood to deal with some political shit.

“That’s enough...”

Before the unknown speaker could finish, Mark looked at the man and simply raised his hand, initiating the assemble sequence on his M20.

He heard the man’s jaw shatter as he was lifted into the air by the momentum; his face sprayed blood as he hit the floor, clearly knocked out. Mark watched as the man hit the floor; his M20 dissembled as fast as it had assembled.

“Had it coming.” Dodger shrugged and ate some warm nutrient paste.

“Got an issue with pompous dicks.” Mark poured nutrient paste into his mouth. “That’s fucking awful.”

“Welcome to the legion.” Dodger held up his packet, cheering Mark.

The man on the ground started to make noises.

“Ava, I broke someone. Got some biogel?” Mark yelled across the room.

“No, I’m clean out.” Her tone made it sound as if she wasn’t in any rush to help the man on the floor as she used biogel on a legionnaire’s cut from a Maraukian claw.

Mark grinned, an edge to it, as he sat back with the Ape Killers. The royal guard backed away slightly.

“Well, this is definitely a different introduction than what I’d hoped,” a man with salt-and-pepper hair said.

There was something familiar about him. Mark studied the man.

“Sorry about that. Some people are still stuck in the old ages,” the man said over a personal net.

“Your daughter…Ava?”

“Yes,” he said, a little shocked, scratching his head awkwardly.

“Ava, you’re a freaking princess.” Mark cut her into the net, the man and the tensions of a second earlier already forgotten, as well as the king.

“Well, yeah.”

“And I said all of that stuff... I am so sorry. Is there something I, uh...”

“Mark, shut up.”

“Yes, Your Princessness.” Mark mock bowed repeatedly from his seat in her direction.

“Jackass,” she said, barely hiding her chuckling as she worked on her patients.

“Whatever you say, Princess!”

Ava flipped the bird in reply, seemingly the only thing that was able to move completely on the Jupiter.

Interesting, Mark thought, thinking he might have some questions for Charles later on why that but not the pinky or the one between the pinky and middle finger—he couldn’t remember what it was called—couldn’t move as well.

The Ape Killers and Dodger seemed to be amused.

“Sorry about that, Ava’s dad king.” Mark turned back to the man. “Kinda.”

“You’re not one for titles, are you? There are some in Crisidium who are stuck in the old ways, shall we say, and they don’t like the aid that the legion has provided. He was the head of the Crisidium police force, but I think a change in position is needed for him. Please, my name is Hael.” The man sighed in a way that made it sound as though he’d made altogether too many important decisions in his lifetime.

“Well, for the titles, I’ve had my share of them and I don’t much care for them. Hael is much better,” Mark agreed.

“Interesting. How did you know she was my daughter?”

“I thought you looked similar, ran a facial recognition and poof—Ava. So what do you want?”

“Direct. I wanted the chance to talk to you.”

“Why? I’m just a soldier or legionnaire, whatever.”

“Well, first because my daughter owes you a life debt and I doubt you’re ‘just a soldier.’”

Mark shrugged as much as his suit would let him.

The king’s eyes seemed to notice the suit for the first time as he studied it. “She said it took you the equivalent of four months to build that suit. Why?”

“Why what? Build it?”

“Yes.”

“Complicated. I had something happen to me that made me unable to use the Jupiter. So, I made this Pluto-powered armor with a lot of help, which included your daughter.”

“But why create a suit that does the exact same as a Jupiter?”

“’Cause this suit isn’t supposed to fill the role of a Jupiter. We built the Pluto powered armor to bring the fight to the Maraukians, not have to wait back until they attack us in dug-in positions. It has armors to deflect all but their heaviest coilgun rounds. A temperature system able to take glancing plasma bolt hits. A command net no one can really understand and all the damned firepower we could think of and a big ass mono-blade for when things get close.”

“Sounds very good but do you have any real result?”

“I’m the only one capable of merging and combat qualified with the Pluto-powered armor.”

Mark shrugged, he noticed how the others in the room were listening in.

They’d seen the capabilities that Mark had, and many of them were interested as much as Hael as they ate their food and listened in.

“Why aren’t there more?”

“There will be a testing group of Elves. The senate of Roma has decided to test out merging and all that comes with it before developing tactics. I know the damn thing works but I don’t have the people to develop the tactics with. If I had a contubernium, then I could make tactics. But with these suits, everyone will be different as the suits are made to accentuate the user’s strengths.”

“Even then, you legionnaires are all on defensive operations and never offensive,” the king counteracted.

“Very true, but I only became a legionnaire a couple of months ago. Less than two years ago was my last offensive operation.”

“Offensive operations against Maraukians in Jupiter armor?”

“No, offensive operations against other humans in a self-contained body armor five generations prior to that tech of the Jupiter.” Mark’s voice was as cold and blunt as his eyes, which stared off into some unseen past.

“That seems unfair—fighting in technology five generations ahead.”

“I was in the same armor. As I said, I wasn’t originally in the legion. I came from the Earth Military Force and have fought against humans in offensive operations for twenty years of my life.”

“Twenty years of constant fighting?”

“Yes, fighting offensive operations.”

“I’m sorry for my presumptions.”

“It’s understandable. Honestly, though, your men are better suited for Pluto-powered armor suits over most of the members of the Ninth. For too long, the Ninth have dulled their aggression down. They’re used to being on the defensive. They’ve dulled their want to run into battle, to push back the enemy, to charge their lines. It goes against everything they’ve been taught.”

“But the first problem is getting people who are ready for the suits and then building the suits for them,” Hael finished for Mark.

“Bingo.”

“Interesting. Well, I believe my guard would prefer me to get out of here, so look after yourself and my daughter,” he said, his voice and eyes serious as the reaper.

“Sir.” Mark nodded to the king’s suit.

A guard chucked the still unconscious man on his back none too gently as they all left.

“What were you two lovebirds talking about?” Dodger put down his empty plate. He’d moved away as the king was having his conversation, checking on his people, making sure they were reporting any injuries or suit failures.

“Suits and merging.” Mark finished his nutrient paste and stood. “Well, I’m going back to my contubernium. Look after yourself.” They clasped arms. Dodger pulled Mark in and slapped his back, which Mark did to the other man.

“Thanks, Mark, for pulling my balls out of the fire.”

“No problem.” Mark grinned as they released each other and he put his helmet on.

“Have a nice chat with my dad, did you?” Ava caught up to him as he left the section behind, moving a lot slower away from the place than he had when he’d tried to get to it.

“Yeah, he had a lot of questions about the suit. Once I told him the capabilities, I told him his men wouldn’t be able to use it because of the lack of training with even the Jupiter.”

“Mark, you know you only spent a day inside of the Jupiter yourself. Well, two days.”

“Yeah, but I can merge.” He pointed to his own chest. “And we built this damned suit from the ground up.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Hey, if we have a merging capable unit, would there be a medico?”

“No, probably not. The suit can deal with nearly everything and with heavy damage, the person would be taken back to be fixed in a nanite tank.”

“Yes! Well, not the part about getting taken back if you’re that wounded but no more medico positions.”

“Uh, what?”

“You think I wanted to become a medico, Mark?” Ava said.

Mark wished he could see her expression underneath her helmet. “I’m guessing not?”

“I wanted to be a damn legionnaire but my dad wouldn’t have it, so I had to become a medico.” There was hidden anger there. “Mark, if you make a merging group, I want in.”

“I won’t take you just because I know you.”

“Look at my scores if you’re unsure.”

“Why do you think there’s going to be a merging group?”

“Because I know my dad. Hope you didn’t want any free time after this.”

“Free time? Where is this mystical universe of free time?”

“Smartass.”

Chapter 19

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

7/3351

“Took five days, more ammo than I wish to count, and too many didn’t make it back,” Pullo said over the net to Mark, whose helmet was still on—unlike Pullo’s.

Call him paranoid but they were in the only observation bubble that extruded from the armorite shielding placed over Crisidium. The view was a sea of Maraukian bodies for fifteen kilometers. Bellona tanks and protection details with drop-ships in support moved through the mass, checking nothing was living. Drones swarmed through Crisidium, cleaning away the rubble and feeding them into processing vats, which would break down everything into their most basic components and feed it into forges to be made into something useful.

“We just have to make the most of their sacrifices.”

“I just wish we never had to lose a single person,” Pullo said harshly, not turning away from the bubble. His ice-like veneer returned quickly.

“So do I, so do I.” Mark placed a gauntleted hand on his friend’s shoulder briefly before removing it. “The king’s coming now,” Mark said as Sarah moved the viewer back so he was watching the entrance to the observatory.

Chyna sat at one table, cleaning his mono-blade. Dodger stood to Mark’s right, a newly made M19A held limply but ready as he was left to his own devices. Somehow, Dodger and the remaining contubernium of Ape Killers had always been nearby. Any murmurs of annoyance of Mark’s seemingly special treatment was quickly stopped mysteriously and instead people stopped talking to Mark, who hadn’t removed his helmet since helping Dodger and his contubernium out. Some found it weird but he’d saved a contubernium against all odds; he could be a little strange if he wanted to be.

Captain Serouti of the royal guard stood ready beside the doorway. High King Hael Desialias, Ava, and a man grinding his teeth—Sarah informed him the man was General Orbel of the Crisidium Army—stared at Mark and his companions.

“So mind telling me what’s so urgent?” Pullo came to sit at the table in the middle of the room. The armorite shielding closed around the observation bubble as a source-less light began being emitted through the room.

Mark moved and stood behind Pullo’s right; Dodger fell to the left, clearing their arcs. Dodger was also fully sealed up and ready for anything.

“Well, after having a talk with my daughter and one with your man Mark Victor here, it has come to my attention you have a new technology with which to let us hunt down these damned Maraukians.”

“What technology?” Pullo said harshly.

“That.” He pointed to Mark’s mass.

“Well, the Roma’s legions has such a technology. This will let the Ninth’s legionnaires hunt down and destroy Maraukians.”

“I was told the Ninth will pay for military products that we could produce.”

“Yes, if you have the clearances to make such things and buy the designs,” Pullo added.

“Understood. How much would you pay for a Pluto-powered armor suit?” Hael asked.

“Mark?” Pullo deflected it, Mark recognizing a look of interest in his eyes.

“Charles and I ran the numbers. About four billion per suit. Plans—seven hundred and fifty million.”

High King Hael’s eyes went wide with the numbers.

General Orbel grunted. “I told you they wouldn’t let us make them.”

“We can’t reach the seven hundred and fifty million credit mark, especially with all of the reconstruction we need to do,” Hael said unhappily, sitting back.

Mark unsealed his helmet, making sure his nanites made him appear normal as he attached it to his chest. “I will give you the plans you’d need as my beneficiary, but you have to promise to get me the suits I need.” Mark punctuated his point with finger jabs in the air.

Pullo turned to Mark. “What?” His face screwed up in confusion.

“If you give them and Gtrul clearance, then I can make them my beneficiaries and thus supply them with the plans to the Pluto-powered armor, plus some start-up funds. I don’t want them running a debt to Roma.”

“We do not need your charity, thank you,” Hael said.

Mark locked eyes with the man. “Ava, did you check your account?”

“Uh...” She pulled up her interface and opened it. Her face paled. “I’ve never seen so many numbers. I didn’t do anything!”

“You looked after us. It’s fair.” He held up a hand, forestalling any argument. “This should be enough.”

Ava sent a message as Hael opened something on his interface; he went pale too. “A billion credits?”

“Well, use the extra for the city. I’m giving Gtrul the same. I won’t be giving either of you an advantage and I’m giving them the same deal.”

“Fair enough and our people will use them,” Hael said with pride.

“People who are willing to lose everything will.” Mark’s eyes flashed as he rose to his full height, his eyes boring into the man.

“What do you mean?” Anger crept into the kings voice, thinking that he was being talked down to and that his people weren’t being placed in Mark’s eyes.

“The people who wish to use these suits will change irrevocably.”

“Training does that,” Orbel, a grizzled general of forty-five years, said to the apparent twenty-something Mark.

“May I demonstrate?” Mark turned to Pullo.

“Go ahead, Mark,” Pullo said.

Mark’s suit unsealed. Nanites swarming across his body turned into legionnaire’s fatigues as even out of his suit he towered over everyone.

“This is the body modification someone needs; otherwise, they’ll rip their own body apart.” The fatigues drained away, leaving him in shorts as his skin changed from pink to dark gray and his veins from blue to silver. Orbel hissed as Hael and Ava looked on with shock. The others in the room stared openly. Pullo nodded at his friend, accepting what he’d done to himself; Dodger didn’t even flinch, still watching his arcs.

“I am no longer human.” Mark’s voice came out sounding just like him but infused with subsonics which commanded attention. “My brain has become a massive semi organic computer. My nerves and eyes are organic and inorganic synthetics, made to mimic my original eyes.” They changed from deep brown to blue and blood red before shifting back to brown.

“My bones are carbon hendral. My skin is armorite weaved. You don’t see a NIAI band on my arm as it’s now a part of my brain; I can’t remove it or turn it off. I will have this body for the rest of my life—there’s no going back. I’m too much inorganic to ever return to my human form. I’m more machine than human at this point.” Mark looked directly into Hael’s eyes.

“I have been fighting every day of my fifty-four years of life. It’s only now, though, I’ve changed my body to match my actions. I feel more comfortable in my suit because when I merge, I leave this body behind and my armor is my skin; my nervous system is wired directly into the suit. I feel more natural to be in that three-and-a-half ton suit than in this.” He gestured to himself. “Will your people be willing to do what I’ve done? To lose their physical humanity in order to save the human race? This isn’t something which can be reversed. If you give me the suits, I’ll be grateful. I’ll train the crap out of anyone who’s going to wear them, that you can be sure of. Well before they ever see the modifications I have, and then I’ll work them till their original bodies would’ve died before letting them near a suit.” Mark looked around the room as his nanites returned to his skin, changing to take on a human tinge as well as his veins.

“I want people who know the risks, and are willing to sacrifice everything for this. At the end of the day, we’ll be charging Maraukians. There won’t be many of us dying in our beds. Fancy blood, bones, skin, and brains that I will give them will only make it a level playing field.”

“It’s a heavy price to pay and I won’t force anyone into it but I would like you to allow members of the Crisidium army to be able to try,” Hael said firmly. Orbel nodded in agreement.

“No one would be denied,” Pullo said as Mark walked backward into his suit, which enveloped him as the seams disappeared. His helmet floated on anti-grav before settling back on his head.

“That’s all I ask. I won’t make all of Crisidium make the suits as we need to rebuild the city still.”

“I thought as much but this training schedule won’t be short,” Mark said.

“Who would be the others you were talking about to train these new recruits?” Hael asked.

“If they choose to accept, Dodger, Jarek, Chyna, and Ava.”

“I accept,” Ava said instantly.

“As do I.” Chyna bowed his head slightly to Mark.

“Tell me where to sign,” Dodger said through his speakers.

“I’m in!” Jarek said through Dodger’s suit a second later.

“Good to hear it.” A weight lifted from Mark’s shoulders, but only partially. Now he had to see how much they really wanted it and he wasn’t going to be easy on them.

“Why Ava and Chyna? So you can have some collateral?” Hael said, anger and pain in his voice.

“No, because Chyna has extensive training and operational experience with close combat warfare. Ava because, frankly, did you see her scores? She’s nearly as deadly as Chyna, which refined by further training being a legionnaire instead of a medico, will do her well. Dodger because, hell, the guy’s a fountain of knowledge and he’s been fighting longer than I was even a gleam in some great-great-granddaddy’s eye. Jarek’s willing to try new things, has the recommendation of Dodger, and he hates being behind walls. Collateral? Fuck, no. Dodger, if I used Ava and Chyna as collateral, would you follow my orders?”

“Probably not, sir. I’d get a transfer.”

“Effectively cutting off my own limbs.” Mark made it clear how stupid he thought the statement.

“My daughter is a princess of Crisidium. How can she do that and be a warrior unable to bear a man’s child?”

“Easy. I give it up,” Ava said from her seat.

“WHAT!?!” Hael, Chyna, and the Crisidium delegation demanded.

“You still don’t understand how small Crisidium really is.” Ava sighed. “Mark, projector.”

Mark nodded, obeying. Unseen lasers created a holographic projection in the room. As Sarah dimmed the lights, a map of the known universe filled the room.

Ava zoomed in on Crisidium on Tricticus. “This is us. This is the system Emarl, and this is sector nineteen we’re located in. This is the discovered systems by the Ninth and this is every system humans have gone to or live on. This is our galaxy.” Ava zoomed out, highlighting what she said until the galaxy map showed a bare smattering of blue against the multicolored lights of the Milky Way galaxy.

“This is still your home and it’s your duty.” Hael slammed his fist into the table.

“I owe him a life debt; I’m to follow him and to keep him alive to understand his ways that I might be a better ruler. My path is to become an merger. It’s going to be shit, I have no doubt, getting there and being one. Hell, I don’t know if I’m going to make it through his tests. If I do, we won’t be fighting on Tricticus. We’ll be fighting star systems far away, fighting Maraukians and keeping the human race alive. That’s our duty. To let our children not have to worry about a Maraukian invasion coming from the sky. If I have to give up being queen, I’ll be happy to do that.” She shrugged.

Hael took a few seconds to compose himself, clearly he hadn’t come to terms with it, but he lived in politics and talking about this subject out in the open with everyone else was only going to make him look weak.

A sad smile still hung on his face. “Stupid, isn’t it, of me, trying to fight for my daughter to stay home while I fight for my soldiers to become Elves? I won’t deny you what you want, Ava. You’re way too old for that. Plus, don’t make me think of the lecture I’m going to get from your mother if I didn’t let you do what you wanted to do. Very well. We will talk of it later. In the meantime, General, do you have something to say?”

“Thank you, my king. Legatus, all of those who are interested will be informed to submit their application in three weeks. We believe with enough time to let Gtrul get back on their feet and submit their applications as well. Though I have no doubt our people will do better,” he said with no little pride.

“Thank you, General. High King. Now we have to get back to the camp. It seems there’s a lot we have to prepare for,” Pullo said.

“Certainly. This day will be remembered by Crisidium—the day the siege ended and the day we were given hope to strike back at those who attacked us.”

Chapter 20

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3351

“He said this was going to be hard, but this is sheer hell.” Jarek moved forward, commanding his men at the same time and calling in support. It was end of week one in the simulation tanks on the outside; inside, it’d been two weeks of grueling training.

“Stop talking and get those damn anti-matter grenades onto that position! Chyna, I want you to dig in along that ridge with charges. Ava, Dodger, keep up that fire. Jarek, why do they still not have trenches to fall into?”

Mark had thrown them into the deep end on the first day. Currently they were staying afloat, barely.

He’d taken the concept of hold and survive into hold and die, charge and maybe kill more of them than you. On the second day, they’d gotten the idea, constantly trying to move forward—in some cases, too much too fast and getting themselves cut off and killing their line. Every minute they were awake, they were running through battles, learning quickly how to be on the offensive and use the suit as a sword instead of a shield. Mark had given them the basics and was slowly bringing them from half Jupiter abilities to full Pluto-powered armor. But it was a long way off.

“They’re doing better than you thought,” Sarah said as Mark was issuing orders, watching the battle and fighting. It was still easy for him to do that at this stage.

“True but we’re still months from them being ready to train others. What is the status of the satellites?”

“They’ve reached orbit of the fourth planet. Alpha is moving to an asteroid that will hit the planet in a week.”

“Good. File it away again.”

“Done.” Sarah’s voice sounded robotic before it returned to normal.

“Gtrul and Crisidium have each completed their first suit using the funds to help their cities. Their trade agreements are becoming stronger as they’re relying heavily on each other.”

“Have they got forges yet?”

“No. Pullo said the legion has to control the forges as by order of the senate. He’s still cleaning up the leftovers of the battle.”

“Send him the plans for the refinement drone. Also, send the plans to the admiralty. The more people we can get behind this technology, the better.”

“Done. I hadn’t thought of the navy.”

“With the refinement drone, they can pull apart an asteroid or comet to gain the needed materials. If they have forges, they could turn it into parts.”

“Making them another supporter of forges and by effect, the new technology from the suit,” Sarah finished.

“Exactly. Queue two medium forges from the supply closet.”

“Done. Be finished in four days.”

“Good. And do you have the program for the steps started?”

“Yes, it’s completed. Are you really going to use it?”

“Yes. During breaks between battles, they need to be used to running constantly from one fight to the other.”

“Ouch, but I agree with your the-more-they-sweat, the-less-they-bleed thought process.”

“Me too.”

“Come on, you slaggards,” Mark said, practically gleeful as the battle ended. He led them to a building that appeared and seemed to disappear into the sky.

Ava and the others had lost count of the floors they’d gone up. The steps were the gauntlet for every EMF soldier. The main training camp was simply named Camp Redoubt; to the trainees it was nicknamed Hell. The stairs went across one side of the tower a kilometer across, up a floor, turned the corner and did the same. They weren’t actually stairs but one continuous ramp going from the base to the top. No one actually knew how long the ramp was but it was believed to be over thirty kilometers. It was all mental. After the first five kilometers, the trainees couldn’t feel their legs; after that, it was just one foot in front of the other—never knowing how far you’d gone, or had left to go. It wasn’t uncommon for people to be meters from the end and give up because they simply didn’t know the end was so close.

Mark was happily marching on his modifications, dialed down to match theirs.

“What’re you so happy about?” Jarek wheezed out.

“I missed training—turning weakness into strength. Turning people into soldiers is the best part of the job. I suggest you conserve your energy. Listening to music helps.”

“Are you listening to music?”

“Of course!”

“What?” Ava asked.

Mark shot them his playlist. “You might not like it.”

We wait till dawn before the big attack.

“What is this?”

“‘March of the Immortals’ by Iron Fire,” Mark said.

The playlist went from metal to epic orchestral and everything in between, even containing chants from militaries long dead.

As they listened, they realized a door appeared and beyond it a new battle.

“Ava, trench line. Chyna, up front. Jarek, Dodger—link up and flank the main body from this area!” Mark yelled as his HUD updated. The battlefields were randomly generated, so he didn’t know any more than the others what he was going to face and when. They still had another three and a half weeks simulated time to go. Mark wished they had a year but he knew that would be impossible.

Chapter 21

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

10/3351

“It’s finally time.”

“Agreed.” Mark nodded, his face grim.

For four months, Chyna, Jarek, Ava, and Dodger had been training and fighting. Not one had backed down, culminating in a fully pitched battle against Mark controlling the Maraukian forces.

They were still fighting with Jupiter armor but they’d taken the fight to the Maraukians. They’d lost against the overwhelming force but they’d taken down twenty for every man they’d lost. They’d exploited every opening, using their troops as warriors and knowing when to pull them back as soldiers.

He grinned to himself as he looked at the four checking their soldiers and then their own weapons, cleaning their mono-blades to be prepared for whatever came next. They no longer thought about it; it was a reaction, ingrained instinct as they completed an After Action Report, pulling up problems Mark hadn’t seen. They were finally ready.

For the first time in what seemed like ages but had only been a few weeks, Mark talked with his actual voice instead of over the communication net. The others had—consciously or not—done the same thing, finding they could communicate faster and better.

“So now let’s go have some real showers and food and talk about the next step.” He looked at each of them as it dawned on them. With thoughtful looks, they exited the simulation after him.

They talked, lightly joking and making small talk and chin wagging as they showered and stopped by the mess. Their motions where always pre-planned, knowing what was going where, what it would do. They didn’t look at their surroundings, assuming or accepting the safety of them anymore.

Mark had turned them from the patient defenders into calculating predators.

“Not one of them are unarmed.”

“Not at all. I was surprised Dodger fit his shotgun in his tunic.”

“A real shotgun?”

“Double barrel, anti-matter backed, sawn-off shotgun.”

“Sheesh.” Clearly, they’d changed; they were no longer comfortable, relaxed and safe people. These people knew they were killers and everything they did was to make sure they were ready for any threat which appeared, whatever or whoever it was.

“Ava!”

The group reacted; their smiles dropped, as did their hands to their weapons or the cutlery, as Ava turned to the threat and the others faced outward for any others.

“Ah, Danielle,” Ava said in a lilting tone. The others relaxed and began talking to one another. Ava tensed as Danielle came closer.

“Uh, where have you been?” Danielle’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t missed the others’ reaction.

“Training. I’m in an experimental unit.”

“Oh. Well, are you done now?”

Ava looked up at Mark, who let a bare grin go, as well as the others.

“I think I’m only just starting,” Ava said, getting a few laughs.

“Oh, well, uh, I’ll see you around then,” Danielle said with a nervous smile as Ava waved good-bye.

“Looks like we’ve changed more than we knew,” Ava said to the others.

“Yes, you have. Meet me in the simulator tomorrow. Take the night off, get a beer, some sleep and a shower.” Mark looked to them.

They all agreed.

Mark stood. His nanites had already eaten through the meal.

“That’s got to suck, absorbing food instead of eating it,” Dodger said.

“I’d think it is pretty economical,” Chyna said.

“Of course you would,” Ava said.

Chyna grinned at her. Their relationship had changed from teacher and pupil to comrades and fellow students. He still had a lot to teach Ava, but there had been a shift.

Chapter 22

Senator Rimateus’s Estate

Roma, Hellenic system

11/3351

Rimateus looked up from his reclined position, waving the servant feeding him out of the way as the messenger moved closer, kneeling and bowing to the senator.

Rimateus was a good-looking man, a well-shaped beard along a strong jawline and hair done up in the latest fashion. His image made him look amicable, easy to approach and quick to smile.

In the outer systems and empire, there were few more powerful than a sitting Roma senator. A senator could walk through the worst planets and no one would lay a finger on them. Doing so would doom the entire planet.

On their estates, they were more powerful than gods. Servants who served a well-to-do senator would do anything to retain the position. The honor it brought on their family, and the stipend, was generous.

Rimateus’s guests continued their conversations. He didn’t doubt that they were all listening to him.

He was a rising star in the senate. He had taken his father’s power and turned it into a small empire in its own right. His father had been a legate, his mother from a well-to-do merchant family. Rimateus had studied politics and the art of rhetoric as a child.

He’d quickly learned how to turn people over to his side and move through any obstacles he found. The senate, and the Union: it was the greatest game he had played yet.

People had made talk of him making a play for the emperor’s seat.

Rimateus wasn’t that foolish. The emperor was powerful and the legions loyal to him. Although being emperor would bring great power, it wouldn’t allow Rimateus to bicker and play with his current position. The backdoor deals, the maneuvering, gathering of allies and suspecting spies: it was what kept him alive.

Rimateus smiled at the messenger. He could have turned his NIAI on but having someone relay the messages to him only further elevated his position.

Every gesture and motion was a display in some way.

“Senator, one of your friends from the house wishes to pass on a message. They say it is of great importance.” The messenger’s voice was monotone, keeping away from titles and names.

Rimateus held his chin in thought. They wouldn’t want to talk to me personally other thab to make themselves look more powerful, or to tell me something of grave importance.

“Who is it?” Rimateus asked his head of household, Marcelle Saubon.

“Senator Rufius,” Saubon said.

Rimateus nodded and rose from his simple but elegant chair and addressed those around him.

“I am most sorry, but the Union does not stop. Please excuse me. I believe a sampling of our fine friend Caecius’s fine winter wine is next.” Rimateus gestured to the plump woman who owned the vineyard and other larger companies.

Rimateus smiled and gave a slight bow as the room turned into Caecius’s auditorium. The woman was a quick riser; with Rimateus’s backing, he could turn her into a true player and ally for life.

He stepped out of the room and walked to his office.

Standing there was a perfect hologram of Senator Rufius. He was one of the old guard who wanted the power to stay in Roma and with the senate. He constantly thought there was someone trying to take power away from them.

Rimateus didn’t want to see power going anywhere else, so they had made good allies.

“Senator Rufius, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Rimateus smiled at the man, as if he weren’t peeved at him for messing with his dinner plans.

“A little bird of mine has some rather interesting information. I can hardly believe it myself. I thought it was a hoax until I saw a recording.” Rufius looked troubled.

The old man had served with the legions. Seeing him troubled raised Rimateus’s hackles.

“A new unit is forming. It will take people and give them abilities, and if they’re successful, armor which will allow them to fight Maraukians.”

Rimateus cocked his head, not sure what the old man was saying.

“Instead of hiding behind walls, they can go out and hunt the bastards down,” Rufius said, annoyed he had to explain it.

“Where is this happening?” Rimateus asked, wondering how long this information had been circulating.

“Emarl system, some backwater. They’re still fighting the Maraukian vault on the planet. I have a confident source that knows the CRL won’t be getting a report for another two weeks.” Rufius smiled.

Impressive. If we can pull one over on the commander of Roma’s legions, maybe we can start looking at inserting our own people.

“Why is this happening in a backwater planet instead of here?” Rimateus’s expression darkened.

“That’s what I was thinking. That’s not all. They’re allowing auxiliaries to try out for these new positions. Don’t think that proper legionnaires have the stones to do the fighting.” Rufius was incensed, building himself into a rage.

“This will not stand,” Rimateus promised, taking a breath. “I have guests here at the moment. Once they have left, I will make some calls and we shall start to put together a plan to have this program moved to Roma.”

“Understood,” Rufius said.

“We must go into this with level heads and a clear plan,” Rimateus said, hoping it got through to the other senator.

“A real plan of battle to beat that patsy Damus over the head with,” Rufius agreed, expanding his chest and standing straighter.

“Exactly. Now I must go, but thank you for the trust you’ve placed in me. Know I am honored you thought of me.” Rimateus bowed his head slightly.

“There is not a man in the senate I could think of who would know what to do better with this information. I was ready to spread it across the Senate House, but you’ve cooled my temptations. I might be an old man, but sometimes the fiery blood of my youth comes back.” Rufius smiled.

I know. I’ve seen the pictures of the girls you visit in those brothels.

“Quite. If we had ten more of your stature, we might have all of the legions stronger because of it!” Rimateus was laying it on thick, but he needed the other senator to trust him on this.

“You embarrass me with your praise. I will let you get back to your party. I hope we can meet soon to discuss matters,” Rufius said.

“You have my word.” Rimateus bowed.

Rufius returned it and canceled the hologram.

Well, this will be an interesting month. Rimateus left his office and headed for his courtyard, where his guests were laughing at Caecius’s wit.

“Are we safe from the brutes, Senator?” Caecius smiled. It looked as if she knew how the game was played, making him once again the master of ceremonies.

“Yes, they have been dealt with, one pesky bit of paperwork at a time. I swear, you’d think they’d do away with the papyrus and scrolls!” Rimateus shook his head in mock sadness, getting chuckles and tittering laughter from his guests as a servant held him a glass.

He sipped it.

“So, where were we?” He lay back down on his reclined seat.

Chapter 23

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

12/3351

Mark leaned against a wall of the room as they followed shortly after gathering around. He looked at all of their faces and stepped off the wall as he walked in front of them.

“So now is the time to decide if you really want to continue. I won’t pressure you in to this or out of this. It is your own decision and it’s too big for me to force you to do it. There will be no going back if you decide to continue.”

Dodger looked to the others, Mark practically feeling the net alive with their conversation.

“We’ve come this far—let’s take it all the way,” Dodger said.

“Are you all sure?”

“You bet your nanite-filled ass,” Ava said to the grinning nods of Jarek and Dodger, with the polite bow of Chyna.

“All right then, so how long do you want off?”

“Want off? Mark, we’ve got roughly eight hundred candidates we need to whittle down to people crazy enough as us. We can’t take time off, not until we get through this,” Jarek said.

“As Jarek says,” Chyna said with a slanted nod.

“So how is this going to work?” Ava asked.

“Say hello to your blanks.” Mark took them into a room. There were four bodies in medical tanks which hadn’t been flooded with nanites yet.

Beside them were empty and waiting medical tanks.

Each of them were given a way point. They walked to the bodies, seeing familiar features.

“What is this?” A chill ran down Ava’s spine as she looked down on a body which seemed to have been half-formed—a scaled-up version of herself.

“To become Elves, you must destroy yourselves. Lose your human body in order to become the protectors of humanity. I was able to break myself down and reconstitute myself into this for you to see. My way—not many will survive this. This is your chance. Your minds will be destroyed, ripped apart and transferred into your blank. It’s unformed, clean of all influences. They will be your bodies. All I’ve done is put the clay at your fingertips,” Mark said.

“We destroy our minds and transfer ourselves into the blanks. Into these bodies?” Jarek confirmed.

“Yes,” Mark said.

“Will it hurt?” Dodger asked.

“I don’t know.” Mark shrugged.

“We’ve come this far.” Chyna got into the empty medical tank next to his blank. Nanites flooded into both chambers.

“Once you do this, there is no going back. The current form you are in will be useless. Its mind and nervous systems pulled apart to create a map for the new blank.” Mark looked to them.

Ava stepped into her medical tank before she could think of it too much. Jarek and Dodger did the same.

The nanites started flowing over her and she felt herself calm as drugs were injected into her system.

Then the pain started.

***

The screams had devolved into noises a few seconds ago. Mark felt sorry for his friends. It was apparently as painful as his own experience, by the screams.

“Strange to think in a few moments we’ll no longer be alone,” Sarah said, taking Mark’s mind off their pain.

“Yeah.” Mark was tense, wondering whether there was any way he could make the process less painful.

“Why did you add in the extra program with all of your personal information?”

“Trust, Sarah.” He could feel her confusion. “I’m going to be fighting alongside these people in the future. How do I expect them to trust me if they don’t know who I truly am? All they know is Mark Victor, a man without a past before stepping on a supply shuttle and ending up here.”

“They trust you anyway. Why jeopardize that?”

“For exactly that reason—because they trust me, I must trust them.”

“Damn humans, always over complicating things.”

Mark just smiled to himself as he merged, absorbing information and trying to figure out why he’d been on that shuttle or who had made Sarah for him. As well as where the Maraukians came from.

***

Ava felt herself move. The pain was gone. It was as though she were waking from a nightmare. As if she had left behind weights she’d been carrying all of her life. Her mind was open to the net, the information, the possibilities. She pulled herself away from it as she not only felt the power in her new body, she understood it and knew it.

Systems started to come online throughout her body. Energy, like a slow trickle, grew, flooding and empowering her.

Then a connection snapped into existence; there was another, a light in the net. A beacon not quite human and not quite AI.

“Hello, Ava.” Mark’s voice passed through her mind. It wasn’t like someone talking on the net. She could hear the emotion in his voice, and it was fast.

“You’ll get used to it.” He sounded amused.

There was another consciousness—Chyna—then Dodger and Jarek.

She sent commands to the medical tank and her body.

Nanites not part of her drained away as legion fatigues covered her body.

She sat up and looked at her hands. They were gray with silver veins.

Mark’s “skin” changed, turning to the same grays and silvers.

Only their eyes showed different colors.

It was a lot to take in: The information of the net. The feedback from her body. How much she could see. The temperature in the room. The darkest shadows.

It was all sensory overload.

“Bit by bit, you’ll start to get used to it. For now, just go to basic functions. We’ll get in the simulator and you can start seeing your new limits.”

Mark turned and walked out of the room. Ava looked to where she had gotten into the medical tank. It drained away to show nothing; her body had been pulled apart in order to implant her into her new body.

There’s no going back now.

She stood with the others and followed Mark, looking at the world with new eyes.

Mark didn’t pause walking into the simulation room and right into a bubble.

Mark ran them through the most grueling course Ava had ever seen or heard of. They pushed their bodies in ways they couldn’t even imagine. They finished the stairs in under an hour instead of in five, only breathing hard for a couple of seconds, and did it again. They lifted, pushed, and pulled weights—at one point, even pulling Ares fighters.

After two days, they arrived at what looked like a small base with a simple outer wall connected to a main hub via spider web-looking hallways.

“Now you know how your bodies work some, we’ll begin with the second part of training: using merging and the Pluto-powered armor.”

They communicated on a near instantaneous level. They could communicate on the net as fast as they could think. Information could be sent in a file, the recipients’ NIAI integrating the information into its memory banks. Communication was their greatest tool, someone didn’t know how to do something they pulled memories from the others, without a pause they went from not knowing what they were doing to a veteran. This increased their reaction speed to an unbelievable level.

They were like one being, separated into different independent units. They breached the wall of individuality, crossing into the realm of hive mind, taking the strengths of both thought processes.

“We have two months sim time to learn everything there is about merging, your new bodies and what the Pluto-powered armor can do. We also need to make a playbook for tactics.”

“Well, I guess we better get started then.” Dodger grinned as Pluto-powered armor appeared behind him and he walked backward into it.

Mark grinned as he and the others did the same, the desert changing to a mountain range.

Chapter 24

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

1/3352

“It’s as Damus said. The entire force is being dedicated to finding out what they can do.” Charles sat down with Jess, Gomez, and Maxine, all from the design team, after their first inspection of the new recruits who were getting the Pluto-powered armor.

“We know how they need to be used. We don’t know all of the abilities of the suit, though, which makes me agree slightly with the senate’s ruling.” Gomez shrugged.

“From a practical standpoint, I agree with them, but the fact the Maraukians now have the A-drive, allowing them to hit us anywhere, means we need everything we’ve got to fight them. We need Elves to fight them where they land. Able to be the vanguard to clear out areas for us to drop legionnaires in.” Charles made a chopping motion for every point.

“Mark is about to start training his force on Tricticus,” Maxine said.

“Yes but we need a force, the size of a legion. He might have half of a century if he’s lucky and then he has to make the suits and who knows when they’ll be pulled off Tricticus to do anything. That doesn’t bring in the fact the senate will go apoplectic if they find out there’s a combat-ready group of Elves out there they didn’t know of.”

“Mark also sent some plans for a few toys,” Charles said.

Maxine grinned, tapping her chin in thought. “Well, we do have all of that production power and I don’t see us needing all of it for suits.”

“I’d say we need about twenty percent, at least, for further development,” Jess said thoughtfully. The corners of her mouth lifted upward.

“It’d only be right,” Gomez agreed.

“Plus there are all of those machine shops that are just sitting there. Plenty of automated machinery to work on ammunition blocks, too,” Charles added. His eyes danced as they brought up their interfaces.

Chapter 25

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

2/3352

Evan Miles watched as a drop-ship was placed on its cradle by anti-grav lifts. The drop-ship’s ramps released as people carrying a duffel, each wearing either the blue uniforms of Crisidium or the green of Gtrul, scanned the massive room and walked toward the awaiting legionnaires in their desert camouflage fatigues.

“If you’re here, they must be scraping the barrel,” Rachel Donark said over the net upon seeing him. She’d joined the Gtrul Army as soon as they began accepting women as applicants. She’d raced up the ladder the proper way, no matter what anyone said, attaining the rank of captain. Evan had been training with her unit before the Maraukians landed, becoming fast friends. There would have been potential if both of them weren’t dedicated to their jobs and the rules that bound them. Both of them were blonde with blue eyes, though Rachel’s had the aqua glow that the Crisidiums seemed to all have.

Evan was an orphan from Ophvera. His father was a centurion at the time he’d adopted him but retired that same year to the green towers of Ageia to be a farmer. He brought his newborn adopted son back to his wife, three sons, and two daughters, who accepted him and raised him in the green towers as they produced food for Roma and her legionnaires. Evan had done his mandatory service and opted to continue. Crisidium was his second planet; he’d fought Maraukians for a year, learning how to stand behind a defense and make them pay to come close.

Everyone in the room had an ingrained hatred for Maraukians. They accepted they were by the large mindless drones but the more mindless drones they killed, the more of the men and women who stood on either side of them could survive. If this program let them kill more Maraukians, they were all for it.

“Look who’s talking here, Captain Donark,” Evan commed back, picking her out as he grinned. He looked down at her small stature compared to his massive height, making them an odd pair: an over-average height legionnaire and an under-average sized army captain.

“So what’ve you been told, you big lummox?” She gave him a friendly tap on the arm, not without surprising strength that her short statue belied.

“Just there’s a program and if we complete it, we’ll be taking the fight to Maraukians, not sitting on our asses waiting for them to come to us. That we also have to undergo a complete body modification and get an upgraded suit. You?”

“Pretty much the same deal.”

“Seems we’re about to find out more.” Evan gestured to the front of the room, where five people entered.

From the way they walked and stood, Evan knew they had positioned themselves to protect one another. It was ingrained habit, no more thought in it than breathing. Though none of them captured his attention like the giant in the middle of the stage.

While Evan was big, standing at around seven foot tall, he was wider than a tree, with muscle filling his fatigues, and stood at a dominating eight and a half foot.

He looked to the others on the stage. They, too, were muscle bound and he had no doubt probably looked like statues of gods he’d seen. Each of them also stood at eight foot or thereabouts. Evan’s eyes snapped to the man in charge as he spoke; his voice commanded attention, even as he didn’t raise it.

“Hello, my name is Centurion Mark. It will be my job to make you drop out of this program. First I will tell you what you must be willing to do to even think about continuing and please think about it.” He looked at everyone in the room to make sure they understood the seriousness of the matter.

“If you wish to continue this program, you must be willing to—like me and the rest of your training staff—go through a body modification. You will never be able to reverse it and become human. You will be faster and stronger than any human, yes, but you will have your NIAI imbedded into your brain. You will be fighting with nothing but artillery to help for months on end, with no walls or other units for support. Those of you who even have the slightest doubts, please leave the room.”

About half of the room wandered out.

“Any more?” No one said anything as he shook his head. “I thank them for having the balls to admit they won’t be able to do this. The rest of you are the dumbest mother fuckers I have ever seen. Till you quit, we’re in charge of your sorry assess. This is first contubernium commander Reckhi, second Chyna, third Klint, fourth Desialias. They and I will be your instructors. Follow us to the simulation room and we’ll begin.”

“I have a feeling he wasn’t lying,” Rachel said as the mass moved to follow Mark and their new instructors.

“About what?”

“The making us fail part.”

“Yes, I think so too. Hopefully we can show him we don’t give up that easily.”

“These are simulation tanks. Get inside and we’ll continue this on the other side. There’s no need to remove clothing as the nanites will destroy them and reform them when we come out.” Mark gestured to floating bubbles of nanites. Without giving them a second glance, he and the instructors stepped into the bubbles, lifted by anti-gravity into the air as others replaced them.

Evan nodded to Rachel. “Good luck.”

“Same to you.”

They walked into the bubbles. The nanites silver disappeared, transforming into a desert landscape; an armorite dome appeared behind the instructors.

“This testing won’t be push-ups, running, and regimen. We will push you through battles as real as anything you’ve ever fought. Learn from them and you will proceed; try and you’ll proceed. You will fail yourself only because you think you can fail. It is up to you to succeed. Now we’ll begin.”

The world evaporated and Evan felt himself inside the familiar Jupiter armor, holding his M19. He looked around, stunned and unsure what was going on. He’d just started this course ten minutes ago!

“Multiple contacts along the bank!” a soldier commed as Maraukian symbols popped up on Evan’s HUD. The first thing he saw was he didn’t belong to a contubernium; he wasn’t even part of a contubernium. He looked around. There were people of higher ranks, much higher ranks seeing as some had given up their commission to try out for this new unit.

Objectives listed on his screen. He sighed in relief as he realized it wasn’t anything too new.

“All right, shield wall formation; we need to hold that bridge for Bellona tanks to cross.”

Training kicked in as the group around Evan formed into a shield wall and supporting lines. Evan picked out two people to lead the shield and then the supporting lines as they advanced on the five-kilometer-long bridge where the Maraukians fired wildly. The amount of fire meant even if the majority of them missed a few million rounds, there were still a few hundred thousand rounds pinging off the shields.

The Maraukian herd commanders and kings gave their normals better targets to hit as they only had to follow the wake of a plasma bolt or the gray line from their heavy coilguns.

The legionnaires were horribly outnumbered but their integrated optics on their M19s meant they could easily zoom in on the Maraukians, letting their suits compensate for the recoil as they fired across the front of the Maraukians to take down ten or twenty in a single pass of their rifle. Evan’s shield line was made out of a hundred legionnaires. Each held a shield a meter and a half wide, covering a third of the four-hundred-and-fifty-meter bridge. His firing line was made out of fifty legionnaires. Just less than two centuries’ worth of legionnaires killed close to four thousand Maraukians. It was a staggering number, Evan thought, as he looked up again at the advancing Maraukians. They were losing three herds every minute and still charging on. They were backed by more than three full assault barges, each holding ten complete herds, a total of forty-two thousand Maraukians.

Lovely, FUBAR situ. “Keep steady. You’ve all done this before. Watch for those on either side.” He raised his rifle over the shield in front of him as they connected with the Maraukian frontlines attempting to cross the largest bridge. Evan gathered more troops by mostly yelling down their necks to join him on either side as stunned decani failed to get their shit together in time.

“Evan, heavy gun right and left covering fire and two minutes!” Rachel commed.

“Show of force! I want everyone firing!” He broke his troops into two sections, picking them to keep a continuous line of fire or best he could.

“Relay one, fire!”

“Covering. Get those guns up, Rach!”

“Relay two, fire. One, reload!”

“I’ve got stragglers, FC Miles. Where do you want them?” a harsh voice yelled, his information already sent to Evan.

“Fucking love you, Polwell,” Evan said, his NIAI spitting out a name. “Split it into three. You command one to blow bridges, another reserve, another reinforce my line. On either side.”

“On it.”

Fucking competent soldiers were worth their weight in platinum. “Relay one, fire. Two, reload. Rach, guns?”

“Up, making gap and…firing.” She switched channels to her gunners laying fire down beside the edge of the shield line, creating a wall of rounds. Evan watched Polwell’s plotted track change to the farther-out bridges.

“Emplacing other guns on flanks.” Rach came back to his channel, creating fire support channels as she had the guns cycle fire between them.

“Understood.”

“This is Freusht. We’ve got charges placed along the bridges on your left flank. Blow them?”

“Read my mind.”

“They’re focusing on the bridges closer to you. Need some support?”

“You have heavies?” Rachel asked over him, getting a green light back. “Send them to me. I’ve got a fire base set up here and I can turn them to fire on the bridges you’re attacking.” Again she got a green light as symbols for heavies split off from Freusht’s formation, hauling ass toward Rachel’s firing line.

“Reserve half contubernium, distribute your ammunition to relay one and two. They’re running low. Keep half your ammunition,” Evan barked as he saw the ammunition levels of the firing line. “Rachel?”

“Support up, Evan.”

“Freusht’s support should be tearing up the bridges. Guide fire.” On his HUD, he saw fire arc from his left support gunners, firing along the front of Maraukians kilometers away pausing their advance as Freusht and his group blew bridges as fast as they could lay the charges.

“Polwell, status?”

“Taking out bridges. Need some support.”

“Giving link up to gunner.”

Evan looked at his suit counter. Over half of the candidates had already died; the rest were either finally getting their shit together or running around to the beat of someone in the half makeshift chain of command.

***

“Not too bad,” Mark commented, half paying attention to the battle as Sarah transcribed it and to the channel between the instructors spread out through the surviving groups running about.

“They pulled together decently,” Jarek said.

“Not fast enough,” Dodger said.

“No one’s fast enough for you or us,” Mark rebutted.

Dodger’s emotional feedback was one of acquiescence and the emotional pings for him grinning.

“Plus the casualty rate. I’m scared they’ll become desensitized to accept the deaths of those in the ranks,” Ava said.

“Need to add in some free time to work together on plans to help create cohesion. They don’t know one another in much or any capacity like we did,” Chyna added.

“Agreed with all of the above, but this is a good way to weed out the slow and those with the right mindset. Be better on the second one when they at least have a bit of coordination and we give them a chain of command.”

“Plus we can sort out which ones are really ready for command,” Ava said thoughtfully.

“So, for now, push them like damned hell hounds,” Chyna said.

“Exactly. Good training value.” Mark felt the others shiver after they had been under his training so recently; he knew how hard he was going to push the new recruits.

Chapter 26

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

4/3352

Polwell’s people seemed to be sorted out as they fanned down the bridges, people breaking off to blow bridges and calling in fire against Maraukians. Once they blew the bridge, there was another team already planting the next so they had to sprint to catch up with Polwell by the time the third team was laying charges.

“Fuck,” Polwell said, cutting Evan into the channel. “Team one, take the fourth bridge. I’ll take the fifth. Sharpshooters on me.”

“Bridges complete, left flank. Joining with main force.”

“Understood. Freusht, take over the reserves position. Rachel, send up the reserves. Cross load them ammo to pass on.” Evan checked the suits on the line, all in the yellow.

“All right, we’re going to have to hit these,” Polwell said.

Evan cut to the view Polwell saw through his HUD.

He was staring at the last and final bridge. The Maraukians were four hundred meters from the end. There was no way Polwell could place the charges and know the bridge would actually blow up, but he and his team would be dead by that point.

Polwell looked up; carets appeared on the high-tension nano weave lines that held the bridge together. He raised his rifle, accessing information on the wind, humidity, and distance. He fired a burst. Both of them held their breath as it hit the line. It twanged, the bridge not moving an inch as the two-foot-thick line whipped back and forth on the bridge and killed hundreds of Maraukians.

The other shooters joined in, systematically cutting the lines of the suspension bridge. The Maraukians were unable to advance the last hundred meters as the bridge bent and twisted as if Jupiter himself shook the bridge in a fit of anger. With enough lines cut, the rest gave away like an angry swarm of wasps. The bridge buckled, coming upward—for a second seemingly pausing in the air before gravity took over, bringing the entire bridge crashing back down into the raging river below.

Polwell slowly brought his forces back to Evan’s main defensive line still hiding behind the main bridge.

When the survivors linked back together, less than half of their original number, the simulation stopped and returned them again to the base in the middle of the desert, with their instructors looking over them again.

“All right, you will now be sorted out into centuries and contuberniums.” Relevant information appeared on everyone’s HUD. Evan was now a second, underneath Mark himself. He was proud at the accomplishment but felt dread at having the responsibility.

“Now, let’s get on with the actual training.”

The feeling of accomplishment left, leaving only dread as they appeared in a jungle made of sickly green and yellow hues with geysers, which his NIAI told him were sulphuric gases. Joy. Seconds later, Maraukians appeared and Evan received orders from Mark, making sure his contubernium carried them out as Mark focused on the legions’ worth of trainees.

“All right.” He selected the three people with the highest battlefield experience. “You three are decani. You fuck up, you don’t have a job. Move your people according to this.” He shot them the plans as he changed channels. “Qui, Welland, you’re my decani. Get your people moving to me.” He changed back to the decanus channel as his contubernium moved to the position.

“You have exactly five seconds to get your people moving to position or you’re fired!” One who couldn’t make the timing would lose his command and be replaced by one of his decanus, who got them moving as fast as he took command.

Chapter 27

Legionnaire Tower

Roma, Hellenic system

5/3352

Captain Chen and his crew finally laid down on some beds set up in one of the super towers that reached twenty kilometers into Roma’s sky. They had been separated from everything and everyone; even their communications were shut out except to their caretaker contubernium of senate guards placed to protect them and make sure no one except the senate and VIP’s could talk to them.

They’d been asked the same questions over and over again: what did you see, are you sure you saw what you saw, has anyone played with the data feed, who was on duty, blah blah blah. Captain Chen didn’t know why they couldn’t just look at the raw data—it was there in all its glory, with all of the information they could want.

“When can we go back to our ship?” Taelyon asked, playing a fighter sim as per normal, reflecting what everyone else was thinking as they looked at Chen picking himself up from his bed.

“They’ve commandeered the Shadow; currently we don’t have a ship to go back to.”

Liviana fell back against her bed. “After all of those upgrades Charles and his team installed too!”

“I wanted to test out the new engine converter,” Taelyon said. “Should’ve given us twenty-five more percent output. Ugh.”

“Plus the new weapons—did you see the specs on the rail gun armament?” Travestki practically moaned.

“I know, I know.” Chen waved his hands, placating his crew. “I promise to ask Charles to look at whatever ship we get next.”

That got a few smiles, Chen saw as he lay down again. “Get as much rest as you can.” As if he’d ordered it, the door opened. Chen barely contained his grin as he looked at the door, and immediately snapped to attention. “Admiral and Ninth Legate on deck!”

The crew snapped to attention.

“There’s no need for that. Grab a seat, Captain Chen—the rest of you too.”

They did, if slowly, as two of the highest ranking officers in the Roma’s legions and the Ninth’s space navy waited. The Romans hadn’t ever had a very large navy and thus the rank structure wasn’t the best, especially when it expanded hugely due to the need for it in space. So they’d stolen what worked from Earth.

“First and only question: is what you recorded real?” Admiral Nessa looked Chen right in the eyes.

“Yes, sir, it is.”

“Well, shit, I’d like to thank you all here for putting up with all of the—excuse me, bullshit—you’ve had to deal with. The senate does like to have concrete information before they move on anything.” He and the commander of Roma’s legions shared a look before he turned back.

“Though I thought I’d do this personally.” A holographic scroll appeared in his hand; the other made a barely noticeable stand up flick. Captain Chen stood immediately at attention.

“Captain Chen, upon being released from questioning, you are to assume command of the battleship Moby. Do you accept?” Under Rael’s gaze, Chen felt like he was being assessed every second.

From stealth shuttle, straight to battleship was a huge jump, surpassing a destroyer captain and second-in-command.

“Yes, sir!” He didn’t hesitate.

“She needs repairs and only has a barebones crew picked for her. I hope you can incorporate your people into your new command. I give you the roster for the battleship and leave that up to you.”

Captain Chen couldn’t believe it: he was getting his own ship and he could keep his people.

The fact that Admiral Nessa said he needed to fix up the ship himself, he felt that it meant they would need to be in the shipyards and there was no help to be found.

All he could say was, “Yes, sir,” again, not wanting to miss this opportunity. He looked, stunned, at the admiral placing the holographic scroll in his hand as he saluted, a twinkle in the admiral’s eyes.

Damus stood, a grin on his face. “Charles told me to tell you not to worry. He’s having a look into the Moby.”

“I doubt he’s doing it for any other reason than he wants to mess with another ship, sir,” Chen said dryly, realizing afterward what he’d said and came more rigidly to attention than before.

Damus laughed. “A man who speaks his mind! If you don’t want him, Dominik, I’ll take him! But I don’t doubt you’re right on that one, Captain Chen. Get some rest. We’ll try to hold them off for a bit and get this all wrapped up. We’re going to need people like you very soon, I’m sad to say.” Everyone in the room nodded grimly.

Chen made to salute as they left; the admiral waved it away. “Get some rest, dammit. That’s an order!” Nessa said, a faint smile on his lips as he sealed the hatch after him.

“A battleship, a freaking battleship!” Carla said in wonder.

“It does look that way, second.”

“Yes, Captain, sir!” Carla came to attention.

The room dissolved in chaos as he opened the scroll, looking to the section of crew and open spots. His old crew looked at the list as he named off positions for them all and they ran around like giddy children.

The Moby was an old ship. It had seen a dozen battles and had been pivotal in saving the planet Akaresh. It was because of those actions it had been kept running for so long.

She was an older ship—heavy armor, big cargo area and big weapons. Not as many or as sophisticated as the current battleships, but she could take a pounding and those guns were nearly twice as powerful as a Bellona’s anti-barge gun.

Chen had to order them to sleep or he’d take away their new positions. Now they just had to get through the questioning.

Chapter 28

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

6/3352

Evan didn’t know when he’d been more tired. They’d gone through fifty-two battles nearly continuously, only pausing to do an AAR and a smattering of sleep and food here and there. He no longer knew the time or the day, just the battles—which he only knew because his NIAI updated his count.

Their mandatory legion soldier upgrade package meant they hadn’t needed much sleep yet.

He sipped food through his ration straw and leaned against the table in the small camp’s mess. His suit fresheners failed badly at trying to remove the smell of old air and sweat. He had grown used to the smell by now as he looked around through his sensors.

Already half of the candidates were gone. Still, two hundred sat at tables, numbly checking their suits and their rifles, eating as they’d been ordered to by Mark. Rachel, Freusht—whose first name turned out to be Mikael—and Polwell—first name Davis—sat around him. They’d all become fast friends since the first battle. They’d also all become the instructors’ seconds.

Evan had learned to pick out the instructors by now: they’d only died once. Other than the one time, they’d failed to get a major injury or seemed in much danger. Someone had argued they were cheating but Mark had pulled up the settings, showing them all they were on the same physical level as them. Yet somehow, they survived through the impossible with seeming ease.

Evan could already see the differences: no one wasted effort on anything that wouldn’t help them in battle, people were already adapting to those around them and becoming a better unit faster than he’d seen before—out of necessity and survival instead of want.

The instructors were asking a lot and he saw they knew it too, but there they were slogging it out alongside him and the rest of the candidates. He likened it to the forging of a smith creating a blade: the candidates were the metal, the hammers were the instructors and the Maraukians the anvil they both smashed into.

If there was a kink with the candidates, it threw the instructors off; they constantly and unrelentingly drove on, thumping the candidates against the Maraukians in battle and making them have to adjust continuously.

“You know what I’ve realized?” Evan said to his group, having had enough to eat without overeating. The instructors had harped on the importance of using the net, making everyone use it instead of talking for weeks. It had become more natural to communicate that way. The candidates had also found they could speak much faster through the net and pass images from one to another; they’d been getting faster and faster, communicating and passing information at an alarming rate.

“What?” Rachel sighed.

“We’ve stopped using shields completely.”

“Yeah,” Mikael said, “we have. I never really noticed but the shield slows us down when we need to deploy and with the trench charges, we can get cover in seconds and carry more ammunition.”

“Strange, isn’t it? The first thing we’re taught when we join the legion on our basic at eighteen is that your shield wall is everything—without a shield between you and a Maraukian, you’ll be dead. By all rights, we should be dying more without the cover. Though our survival rates are increasing for those not using shields.”

“Shows this isn’t like any other unit we’ve ever seen. They definitely want to fight face-to-face,” Davis rumbled. “The tactics don’t leave room for anything else.”

“Yeah.” Rachel sighed tiredly. “For right now, it’s adapt or die.”

“Exactly.” Evan stood after Mark rose. “Looks like it’s time for another battle.”

They checked over themselves by reflex: from rifle and ammunition, to their swords and systems check. There would’ve been a time before when they would just ask their NIAIs. Sometimes, though, the instructors told the NIAIs to give the wrong messages and it was always better to be safe than sorry. After the first time experiencing it, everyone had died, including the instructors—for the one and only time—when everyone had diminished ammunition supplies.

Their world changed to the starting screen before the battle.

“We’ve got to attack this Maraukians birthing ground here and move past to create a new defensive line. There will be minimal support—they’ll be expecting us. Their strength is estimated to be five full herds. That’s seven thousand for you people who can’t do math. Let’s move out. Arrowhead formation,” Mark said as they walked out, already setting down orders.

Chapter 29

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

7/3352

“It’s time,” Mark said.

All of the instructors looked at one another, nodding.

“Let’s let them get rested,” Ava said. “And get into the real world, with real food and showers. I know I need one.”

“I was about to say the same thing.” Dodger sniffed and screwed his face in mock disgust, to the laughs of the others and Ava’s icy eyes.

“All right then.” Mark got his own laughing under control. “Let your people know.” They disappeared from the room; Mark left last as he appeared outside of the recruit’s quarters. There were only forty-four recruits left. He opened it; everyone snapped to attention. Mark’s lips twitched as a table and the cards on it were flipped by the players still holding their card-filled hands at the side.

“Julian, I can see you looking at Trei’s cards there.”

Trei’s hand moved closer to his leg and he gave Julian, who went red, a dirty eye.

“At ease.” The room turned to Mark, expectant; some looked to their gear stored beside their racks. “All right, get some rest. You have two days off. I would suggest sleeping. After the two days, we’re going to the real world. And get some food and a damn shower.”

This elicited wary smiles from everyone.

“I’m not shitting you. You will not be active in the next few days. Use the base as you desire. Questions? Evan?”

“Sir, are we going to be asked if we want to go through with the upgrades or not?”

“Yes. I was going to ask you after the two days’ rest here.”

“Sir.”

“Well, pine over if you really want that. Pass it onto the people who want to know. Anyone else?” Seeing there wasn’t, he continued. “All right, as you were then.” He left their room then, transporting himself to his own room with the other instructors, as he got down to the essential business of getting some shut-eye.

After their two days’ rest, they were assembled in the simulation room. Mark and the training team showed their real faces, without the coloring they used to appear human.

“Now it is time to make the biggest decision of your life. To become something other than a human, something that may not be able to reproduce children and all of it might just be to die in battle.” He waited, watching them as they remained stoic. Was there a flicker in one or two eyes? Mark wasn’t sure. “Though you will have a vanguard of hundreds of thousands and you will have a family with the Elves who come through this to your left and right. Are you ready to sacrifice your human bodies to become Elves?”

Forty-four stepped forward.

Chapter 30

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

7/3352

In the military, everyone is part of a tribe: their branches are like the sons of the tribe leader; the specific legions like their litter of children; the centuria the actual village; the contubernium the house; and the fire team partners the married couple. Everyone was competing against everyone else, either officially in events or unofficially in brawls. Then there was supporting groups, such as engineers and artillery, who thought of their branch brethren were their idiot cousins while the actual legionnaires thought they were like their sissy little nieces. Thus the military fought constantly among themselves. But if one of the tribe was attacked, the ranks closed and the rivalries stopped—or at least put on hold till later.

Those standing in the main and only hangar of the base were far removed yet essential to that structure.

They were the vanguard. Sure, the rest of the tribe exacted an unholy toll against any that attacked, but the vanguard led them: they made the initial kill, they started battle first and ended it, and the vanguard decided the battle. It had no room for fluff, none of that softness in other parts of the tribe; if they were to fall, then the tribe would fall. They were the most disposable, and the most valuable at the same time.

They were from the military tribe; they looked over it like an adoring brother might. They made fun of the units and of one another but when they were attacked, they didn’t close ranks. They charged the stupid bastards who attacked them. Any challenge they’d accept not to prove themselves but to show others what they couldn’t do.

Evan stepped forward, mentally saying yes as forty-three of his brothers and sisters did likewise.

Mark looked around the room and for the first time fully grinned. “Well, looks like you’re all stupid bastards like me.”

Not one person had opted out. Every single one felt pride in their chests unlike any they’d felt when graduating their military schools and finally getting the approval from their instructors. This was being accepted into what they wanted more than anything in the universe, the unmentioned vanguard.

“Welcome, my fellow Elves,” he said.

Everyone received an information packet; they hit Accept and their worlds changed.

Evan closed his eyes to the sim world as he found the tingling sensation and he knew it was his connection to Julie, his NIAI, accessing it directly. It spread as his brain seemed to open. Thoughts, emotions, and information flashed through Evan’s mind as he breathed, unable to understand the enormity of it.

So this was merging. His thoughts now connected to Julie in a way indescribable in any tongue he knew. Everything was the same but completely changed.

He wasn’t done yet, he thought as he stepped up to a nanite tank and laid down in the nanites.

***

Mark, just like all of the instructors, felt when another person had merged. It was one of the unexpected side effects. They had found out that they always knew where another merger was, like a sixth sense.

Unguarded thoughts cascaded through the net, including emotions and feelings. Other Elves could feel those emotions and feelings but they couldn’t explain how. When Evan, the first new merger, joined the net, it was as though a light bulb which was previously unknown and unlit now were a bright flare. He was excited, interested, and scared as he came out from the nanite tank. The instructors felt his embarrassment as he realized he wasn’t feeling just his own emotions as he looked at the instructors smiling back at him. He quickly figured out how to control his output of emotion as there were now mirrors in the middle of the sim room, which he used to study himself. He now stood a half foot taller; his muscle density matched his new height and he had the telltale veins of the now nanite-plasma running through his veins and the electric eyes. He could feel the changes within his body hidden from the eye. He hadn’t realized how much Mark and the other instructors had changed that the recruits hadn’t been able to see.

“Welcome to the merger net,” Mark said as everyone came out of the simulation tanks and their nanite layer changed to match the black fatigues of the instructors. “Everything you think, we can understand, so now you have to remember to turn off your net when you’re thinking of something personal. It will be strange at first but will quickly become second nature.”

Mark’s grin widened as many faces turned a strange color of red. Might be something to tell others about to merge. But where’s the fun in that? Mark gave Ava a side glance.

“Now the first thing you might notice is the ability to feel others’ feelings and the like. Yes, it’s strange but don’t worry—it becomes normal after a while.

“Now, some ground rules for our little outing. First, no one is to actually merge. Everyone’s way to merge is different but just refrain from doing so or I’ll run you through sim training at eight times speed now your bodies can handle it. Also, put restrictions on yourself—don’t want you breaking everything.” Mark watched as everyone applied restrictions on themselves. The instructors greened up as they checked their people to make sure they were good.

“All right, by contubernium, lead on. Let’s get you ready for equipping the Pluto-powered armor.”

Chapter 31

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

7/3352

Centurion Michales looked up from his data pad as the cafeteria went quiet. Everyone in the room stared at the fifty people who entered the room. Each stood over seven feet, with muscular frames easily seen against their black uniforms with purple lining.

Jarek now towered over his normal height of six five, adding an extra foot to that. Ava was the second tallest, standing at near eight feet. Michales knew they would all change through the body mod they needed to become able to merge but knowing it and seeing it was two different things. They looked like the Olympian gods of war, their skin like marble cut with silver veining. They didn’t search the room but Michales had a feeling they were watching every inch of it already.

The candidates got their food with Ava, Mark, Jarek, Chyna, and Dodger sitting among them. Michales could see rank was nearly nonexistent. They followed someone because they felt respect and loyalty to them. Not because of their rank or the years they put in.

The candidates sat where the commanders with similar skills or complementing skills sat. Groups formed around them, which gathered around Mark. It reminded Michales so much of a family instead of a military unit; it was strange.

Michales noticed how quiet the room was as everyone stared at the course, not opening their mouths except to eat. But from the facial expressions, it seemed they were talking. From the rapid changes of their faces, he doubted what they were saying was slow enough for any human to understand.

They ate their food in bare minutes, getting seconds, thirds, even fifths in some cases.

Then, as suddenly as they’d entered, they left, filing back out and leaving the mess as if they’d never existed.

“Well, they’re different,” Alexandra said.

“That’s for sure,” Michales said thoughtfully, eating some eggs. “It’ll be interesting to see what they’re like in two weeks.”

***

“All right, two months left. Do your best and adapt. First, we’re going to do a series of tests to prove the new abilities to you and then we’re back to battle, moving up in armor until you can handle using Pluto-powered armor while merged. Now with that, let’s go for a run.”

Training continued as Mark sprinted fifteen kilometers. The others kept up, breathing a little heavily as they learned what their new bodies could do. Then, as the training staff had done what seemed like a lifetime ago, they pushed their new bodies past imagined limits and kept going.

Then came battle again. They started at first with increments of their full power, then added in merging. Then finally came the testing with the Pluto-powered armor. The Elves took to the Pluto-powered armor like ducks to water. There was still some annoyance at the Pluto-powered armor not being real but they quickly moved past it as they started to discover what they could do by themselves, with interesting results.

“There’s even more than I thought the suit was capable of,” Mark said over the leader net as he watched Ava create a whirlwind of mono-blades attached to mono-wire twirling around her suit so fast they blurred as she hit Maraukians, slicing through them. She threw them at random times, cutting through Maraukians farther away, and returned it to her hand with an expert flick of her wrist before re-adding it to the whirlwind again. It was a deadly display, turning the area around her into a bloodbath.

Matteuis and Horlem, both fanatical soccer players, floated boulders, pushing them with anti-grav at each other and kicking them; boulder fragments ricocheted through Maraukians like a shotgun blast, with boulders as big as a man’s head breaking off.

Evan used his anti-grav to make a repelling field in front of himself as he ran, football style, at Maraukians; he used his blade as a scythe while the Maraukians were off balance, tearing them to shreds.

Mark had a few ideas of his own but he kept them to himself as people developed new and fantastical ways to kill Maraukians. Jorel threw rocks into the air, perfectly timed with Dodger using them as steps to spray anti-matter grenades, which shot out over three kilometers with the blast waves still able to hit him as he continued his running on top of the rocks.

Davis and Mikael seemed to have an interesting idea, Mark thought as Sarah showed him their plan.

Mark couldn’t help but grin as he heard the usually serious Davis let out a whoop, exclaiming how slow Evan was getting in front of Davis’s run, until Evan caught up and they fought back-to-back, close enough to the Maraukians and killing less as to not create space for them to employ their plasma and coilguns. They knew how to control the battle, to get the right space: too much and the Maraukian heavy weapons could be brought to bear, too little and their vibro-blades would still slice into them.

“Now that looks interesting.”

“Humans—you’re damned insane.”

Mark just grinned maniacally as Sarah gave her equivalent of an eye roll.

Chapter 32

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

9/3352

All of the training, the hardships—it had cut the chaff from the wheat. Now Mark commanded the final forty-four Elves. Each of them knew their suits as if it were their own skin.

All of that work came to this one exercise. This was not just the recruits’ last test. It was the first test of the entire auxiliary cohort.

They moved away from their camp. It was time for the final test Pullo had set up.

The base’s only two drop-ships took to the air, turning away from Mark’s position. Now was the time for their final battle. This time, instead of AI-generated Maraukians, they were up against four and a half thousand legionnaires, Crisidium and Gtrul soldiers who’d been training for two weeks in preparation for this battle.

It was only through his highly upgraded and modified sensor suite, combined with the link that all of the Elves felt, that Mark was able to know where the forty-four others were. Their suits mimicked the area around them and bounced off sensor readings while using anti-grav to cushion their steps perfectly. He opened up his audio feed, having a hard time hearing them against the alien noises of the dense jungle they sprinted through at a hundred and twenty kilometers an hour.

“Going,” Ava commed as her and Chyna’s group peeled off for their objective.

“Same,” Dodger said as Mark felt Dodger and Jarek’s group merge, taking off for their objective.

“In position,” Mark said as his suit’s camouflage merged with the ground around him. Everyone else with him did the same, spreading out. Mark crept to the top of the small ridge he was on. A stream of nanites funneled out of his finger; they crested the rise as Sarah picked out herd commanders and sent the image back to the rest, who bounced it to one another and to Ava’s and Dodger’s group.

The Maraukians had cleared a fifteen-kilometer-wide circle. Heat waves emanated from the ground, the firer’s weapons still white-hot as they prowled the area. Mark smiled as Sarah put up a counter with twenty seconds rolling down.

“In position, readying,” Ava commed.

“Good to go,” Dodger said.

Both sent information bursts of highly compressed information. Sarah fired it off to everyone else as she put the relevant information on Mark’s HUD.

“Ready.” He braced himself as Evan, the second heaviest of them all at around seven-and-a-half hundred pounds, climbed up Mark, looking at the ground in a squat position with his boots on Mark’s chest.

“Fire on command.”

Mark watched as the drop-ships crested the hill and shot black objects from their carrying compartment. Every herd commander’s weapon turned to the drop-ships, their herd turning with them as they opened fire.

Mark felt the world go slow as he merged. Battle enhancers and the cold ruthlessness of merging settled over him. “Fire!”

In a millisecond, both suits created opposite gravity fields; the suit crouched on the other’s chest straightened, their legs in perfect synchronicity. The grav clamps released and turned twenty-seven suits into human cannonballs with mono-blades at their sides.

The Maraukian force turned toward the strange readings too late. The Elves opened their sealed compartments, revealing autocannons firing their ten thousand rounds per second, auto-mortars firing every half-second, and bomblets compartments firing in a fire plan created by every NIAI and merger to cover the most area. The suit user’s mono-blades came from the air, ripping apart anything below them as they sped to the other side of the clearing. As the Maraukians force was still reeling from the sudden and unexpected tactic, the world went white as the auto-mortars’ and bomblets’ payloads returned to the ground. Suits turned down or shut off their sensors before they fried. Mark watched the suits closest rise a few degrees in temperature as people landed, rolling and turning as the second group stepped on their chests.

“Fire when ready,” Mark commed as Diez, a quiet soldier, climbed on Mark, ready to go again as lines of trajectory spat across the battlefield. “Mono-wire.”

The suits became human cannonballs again. This time, mono-wires fired from their legs and clamped to those to their right, creating a closing circle of mono-wire. They lowered their legs, cutting off the heads and chests of the Maraukians too slow to duck. They detached the lines before they crossed over, rolling to a stop as they used anti-grav to land in the battlefield.

Jarek and Chyna landed, with them picking out groups still left alive, moving from the center outward. Mark was in control of the merging forces around the battlefield.

“Up—extended line. Kill anything Maraukian.” Mark felt his M20s cycle under his forearm as he gripped the trigger assembly. The battle was all but done and Mark knew it. But it was good to be cautious and even one live Maraukian was an issue.

Here and there, an M20 fired but it was rare. Mark studied the information now streaming from the suits across the battlefield. The Elves had attacked so rapidly, combined with the anti-matter mortar rounds; most of the remaining Maraukians had been too stunned, deaf, or blind to put up much of a fight.

The Elves surveyed the area, their M20s ready, but none of their sensors were reading anything being alive.

“End simulation.” Pullo’s voice sounded as the world shimmered and dissolved.

Mark and the other Elves rammed down from merging before ejecting from the nanite simulation bubbles. Everyone was grinning as the net was full of excitement and adrenaline. Finally, they were done training.

“All right.” Mark opened the general merger net. “Time for the AAR.” Mark didn’t know when he’d seen troops more excited to do an after action review.

They walked through the corridors to the hangar where they were going to have the AAR.

The room hushed instantly. Wide eyes looked at them as they walked to one side of the hologram projector, which was frozen just before the drop-ships passed overhead the enemy force.

“All right, so to begin, did anyone notice the approach of the legion team?” Pullo pointed to someone who raised their hand.

“No, sir. They were like damned phantoms—had nothing on sensors or audible,” one centurion from the Maraukian team said.

“What do you think of the diversion? You.”

“Sir, I think everyone here thought they were just trying to show off by coming in by drop-ship on top of us, but they are supposed to be an attacking force so I didn’t think they’d cover the distance from the camp to us so quickly without drop-ships. We could see the drop-ships for a few hundred kilometers, so when it didn’t land or eject anything, we assumed they were on the drop-ships, which was our first mistake. Damned impressive getting that far that fast and having the ability to decimate their enemy wholesale.”

“What was it like in the fighting? Mark?”

“It was easy.” This garnered some ugly stares from the other centuries. “We had a basic plan already—we already knew where they were and with the heat signatures of their weapons, we could sort out which ones where herd commanders. Once we got that information, we formed around them and waited for them to be focused on the drop-ships. Then we sprung the attack once they were focused on it. Using the chaos to fire our full auto-mortar, anti-matter bomblets and auto-cannon supply, our NIAIs were synced to get everyone out of the main blast area and create the most of our weaponries’ blast radius. The mono-wire killed any major groups left. Then all we had to do was mop up.”

“What was that like on the Maraukian side?”

“It was a damned bloodbath, sir. It felt like death reigned there and they were the harbingers, the lords of death. It moved too fast for me to keep up. As the first drop-ship blew, they were already slicing us apart. Then, seconds after, we were blown apart by anti-matter grenades. After that, there was no way we could survive. It’s the quickest battle I’ve ever been in.” The man shook his head as he still couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, it’s the newest record—for the sim tanks, anyway. It was one merger to eighty-two legionnaires; including the Maraukians, it was one to near one thousand six hundred and forty.”

“Damn. And it was over in less than a minute and a half.” Silence reigned over the hangar as everyone turned to look at the forty-nine individuals fighting to hold back grins and failing, badly.

“Well, it seems your unit now needs a new name. So, as is tradition, what do you think?” Pullo asked the enemy force. After a few seconds, ideas were spat forward at a rapid rate.

“Lords of Death?”

“Phantoms?”

“Reaper Lords?”

“Phantom Lords?”

“Black Death?”

“Wait, what was that last one?” Mark asked.

“Black Death?”

“No, the one before that.”

“Phantom Lords?” an eager evocatus yelled out again.

“What do you think?” Mark turned to the others, who dissolved into the net equivalent of a shouting match as answers came back.

“Mark?” Pullo asked.

Agreement and pride came through the merger net as they stood a little taller. “We accept Phantom Lords, Legatus.”

“Then I now announce a birth of a new century, the 182nd century, nickname the Phantom Lords.” One of his assistants came forward with a blank standard, which Pullo gave to Mark. The blank standard changed: a grinning skull seemingly looking down upon those who looked at it, backed by a crossed mono-blade and a M20; the background was the black-purple of carbon hendral armor. The words Phantom Lords were in nanite silver, above 182nd century of the 9th legion in Roman numerals.

Elves and legionnaires alike whooped and cheered as Mark held it up. Pullo’s ice-man appearance cracked with a half grin, nodding to Mark before he left. He knew he was going to be busy with senators asking awkward questions soon enough.

***

“Did you see!!?” Jess rushed into the room Charles and the rest of the designer team had been stuffed in.

“What?” Charles sighed after finishing a shift on the new Moby.

“Mark has a unit.”

“WHAT?” Charles jumped from his chair, all signs of fatigue fleeing.

“He’s got forty-nine completely trained, merging capable legionnaires, including himself.”

“Are they any good?”

“They just set the new record in the sim tanks for legionnaires against legionnaires, newly formed century record, new understrength century record, the record, highest ratio of kills with zero deaths, highest ratio of kills per Legionnaire and demolished the standing record of every century that has undergone this test! Every single damned record!”

“How many is he able to suit?”

“Thirty-two of his candidates.” Maxine pulled up the materials roster linked in with Camp Epsilon on Tricticus. “Plus Ava, Dodger, Jarek, and Chyna.”

“Shit, we’ve got to do something about that.” Charles paced.

The development team nodded in agreement. It looked like the Moby was going to have to be put on hold for a little while.

Chapter 33

Senate House

Roma, Hellenic system

9/3352

“Senators, as you’ve heard from Captain Chen and his people, as you’ve seen the raw data shown today, it is time we let Earth and Her Colonies know they aren’t the only humans in the universe and there is a war going on.” Damus stood to address the senate.

“Damus, we value your opinion, but we’ve been without communication with Earth for some seven hundred years. When they wanted to turn us into slaves but ran away when they learned of the Maraukians. What will their reaction be when we say, ‘Hello, we’re the recreated Roman Empire. Also, we’ve been keeping humanity safe for the past while but now we’re not sure if you’re safe anymore, so we’d like to let you know just in case. Plus, your weapons are nearly useless—your technology is generations behind ours and you’ll need to change your entire industrial infrastructure to be able to have a chance of arming your people?”

“Yes, or do you wish the first time they find out they’re not the only people in the universe is when a Maraukian battle transport appears from nowhere, launching its initial assault barges’ wave through their atmosphere?” Damus said, rapidly losing his composure.

“No one wants that, but now is not the time. We need to ease them into this transition, not dump it on them,” the leading senator said in a tone that said he and the senators were done with the issue.

“The longer we wait and don’t give them the full picture, the longer it will take for them to be ready to fight beside us.”

“Damus, we’ve waited nearly eight hundred years. We can take our time now; they won’t launch them that fast.”

The senator’s sympathetic look made Damus want to grab him by the head and shake him until he realized that now the Maraukians could launch at any time; they couldn’t wait any longer. The Maraukians had the advantage the legion had maintained for some nine hundred years. Damus could see he needed to bide his time, as much as it felt sour in his mouth as he looked around at the nods from the senators.

“Very well, Senator.”

“Now, on to the progress of… Senator Rimateus?” Senator Welrin asked as Rimateus raised his hand.

“I have found out just now from my NIAI that a new unit has been created, the 182nd Centuria, all of which contains unknown merging capable personnel, some not even legionnaires.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Damus asked sourly. Rimateus was a man who was in the politicking business for power, pure and simple. So were most of the men in the room but Rimateus had been accused with everything from blackmailing to murder and yet nothing seemed to stick.

“Did you know of the formation of this group and who authorized to give these people the ability and the technology?”

“I did not, though I am reading into the contubernium and I would say Mark Victor was the person to give them the ability and the technology. He did the same for us. He was not under binding contract to not.”

“What would give a mere optio the right to hand out our most advanced technology and create a unit able to use an ability we are only now studying?”

“He was the first human to ever be able to merge and perfected it when he underwent a body modification. He also created the suit with the help of Charles Welckt and his team.” The fuck did you think we got this from, underneath a rock with instructions? Damus thought.

“Yes, I know of him. He played but a minor role in the creation of the suit,” the senator said rapidly, trying to cover over his lack of information.

“He was awarded sixty-five percent of the contracted plans. He created the operating system and the basic guidelines for the suit.”

“So these suits are operational?” Senator Perez asked, smoothing over the other senator’s idiocy.

“Without a doubt and probably upgraded, from what I’m seeing in their simulation data.”

“Exactly. I believe it is unsafe and reckless to have forty-nine  merging capable people with Pluto-powered armor suits simply be left to do as they please. I wish to ask the senate for these suits and these other people be brought to Roma and have them under our purview so we can make sure they’re trained properly. We cannot let these weapons and skills fall into the wrong hands. I so put it to a vote.” Rimateus hammered his hand on the desk in front of him.

Votes came in. Damus cringed at the result, as the majority voted for having Mark and his group brought to Roma.

“Senators, with all due respect, we don’t know how to train these people. We can’t understand their abilities as well as they can themselves.”

“That is why Primus Pilus Martin Faust was put in charge of the merger initiative,” Senator Perez said serenely, his smile taking any bite out of his statement of the facts. “For us to gain a better understanding and create a system for people to gain this new ability, train and use it most effectively.”

“There’s no one to test them to see if they’re ready.”

“But we do, Damus—the two maniples of trained Elves being trained by Centurion Martin Faust.” A smile spread across Senator Rimateus’s face.

“Yes, Senator.”

“Martin Faust and his officers will assess this unit for their abilities,” Senator Rimateus said matter-of-factly.

Shortly, the meeting was finished, with Damus leaving quickly and finding Charles outside it.

“Shut up. Follow me,” he commed.

A stunned Charles followed Damus all the way through the senate, to the Ninth’s base and into a private drop-ship that was fifteen kilometers tall and had a fifty-kilometer-wide super tower. They went five kilometers down into the heart of the tower buried underneath Roma’s crust, into his private office.

Damus locked the doors. “So, it looks like Mark and his Phantom Lords are coming to Roma,” Damus said once the room was secured.

“What happened?”

Damus paced in front of the view screens which made the room seem as though it overlooked a Roma greenhouse complex. “Senator Rimateus wants Primus Pilus Faust and his maniple to test Victor and his century.”

“I didn’t see that. I must check the feed again.”

“You watched it through the secure sensors?” Damus paused his pacing. “You could get executed for that.”

“I hate being uninformed.”

“Charles.” Damus growled in a warning tone.

“Mark is not going to like this at all.” Charles rolled over Damus’s complaint. “Neither are his people.”

“You know him better than I do. What do you think he’ll do?”

“He’ll follow his orders as you give them to the letter. He’ll be loyal to his people too. Anything that is unnecessary he won’t do. He won’t stand for idiots and you better keep the senators away from him. I got a sense he doesn’t like politicians one bit.”

“Do you think he’ll fight Faust?”

“No. He’ll know the man’s doing his job and let him get on with it. Might even lend a hand if so asked.”

“What are you hinting at?”

“Maybe we could get more than a half century of Elves ready.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you. Could you say that again?” Damus said with a glint in his eye.

“Nothing, Commander of Roma’s Legions. I must return to my work.”

“Of course. And I have much work to do.”

Chapter 34

Senate House

Roma, Hellenic system

9/3352

Senator Rimateus, in the center of the Senate House, stood at the podium to address all in attendance.

Most were looking to Admiral Nessa, waiting for the confirmation that the Maraukians had truly created an A-drive and any more information she might have.

Attendance was high, with tension and fear running through the air.

All eyes were on him. It was daunting for many. Here were the most powerful men and women in known existence. They controlled industry, were linked to the largest of corporations, had led entire legions into battle and represented the people of the empire.

Rimateus felt alive as he looked at them all. The building was a mirror image of what their ancestors had been in. To his right and left, benches ran the length of the great hall, making everyone turn sideways to see Rimateus.

Here, their seats randomized by the AI consul that ran the Senate House and kept order.

“Senators, since we were just a single planet, we have been the guides of the legions. We have come together despite our issues and we have put our legions in danger time and time again, to serve the purpose of saving people from the Maraukian threat. As we were saved by the legion, we have gone on to use our legion as a liberating force.

“In this hall, there are many who can attest to the legion’s great feats, how they have been a symbol of Roma. They have defended planets that they were not born to, but we share a heritage with. We are not the EHC. We do not wish to fight our brothers and sisters.” Rimateus shook his head. His face clouded at speaking of the barbaric EHC, much like a frustrated father.

“We work together to strengthen one another. We are humans and together we have shown how strong we truly are. Division leads to weakness and failure.” Rimateus stabbed his finger into the podium.

“We have trained anyone who wishes to become a legionnaire and a citizen of Roma at the legionnaire tower for nearly seven hundred years. People from all walks of life, all creeds and planets fighting together, building a greater empire.” Rimateus looked out over them all.

“We have learned grave news, something I know we all wish had not come to pass. The Maraukians have somehow gained the ability to create an A-drive. Our own Captain Chen, a man of great honor, has confirmed this.” Rimateus waved to the captain, who stood off to the side with Admiral Nessa, ready to give their report to the senate.

“The legions that have defended us will continue to do so. We will deal with this threat. Indeed, we are already creating a force which is capable of fighting Maraukians hand-to-hand,” Rimateus said.

Mutters went through the senators. Even more were probably being passed by NIAIs.

Rimateus didn’t look to Damus, who sat among the senators.

“They have been called Elves due to their similarities with the creatures of lore.” Rimateus distributed images of the Elves to the senate, especially ones of them in the cafeteria, showing their mass and height.

“I am told they are most impressive in the field. It is thought that they might finally be a force to attack the Maraukians beyond a city’s walls. Think about that! The ability to take the fight to the Maraukians. We could attack their planets, destroy their infrastructure and turn it over to our own people. We have identified several Maraukian home worlds but we can do nothing but watch as their defenses are too strong and their planets covered in hordes. We have made it illegal to destroy worlds and with good reason.” Rimateus didn’t agree with it, but the people didn’t want to see planets blown up—and he didn’t want to lose voters, after all.

“These Elves can give us that capability. They are small in number and they do not have the resources they need to reach their full potential stuck on a planet that is only just recovering from a Maraukian emergence. I put forward a vote to return the Phantom Lord century to Legionnaire Tower. Let us work to strengthen our legions and take the fight to the Maraukians. With our resources, our legionnaires, and the senate’s wisdom, we can not only defend the empire, but sound the war drum. The legion’s days of defending are coming to an end. As our forefathers did, we will not just stand by. We will march! Roma’s legions will move forward, not to defend and hold, but to attack and take. We will no longer let the Maraukians advance. We will go to war!” Rimateus’s voice grew in volume as he held the podium, leaning forward and looking to his fellow senators.

Cheers and applause rang out from the senators. Many of them rose.

Rimateus saw Damus Versanti staying seated, his face impassive. Try and stop me now.

The senate had been scared and afraid. For so long, the Maraukians had been a known quantity. They knew how to deal with them and they could get along with their lives. Now it was all threatened. The Maraukian hadn’t landed on a planet in three hundred years.

It was okay when it was systems away, but if it happened to their planet—it changed perspectives.

There was no known option to go to, no way to do anything but what they’d always done: hunker behind walls and hope they could defeat the Maraukians before they overran their defenses. With the Elves, a new possibility had risen.

It gave them an option; it gave them hope and it gave them something to point to when their people asked what the hell they were doing.

The Elves would be heavily supported and built into something Rimateus couldn’t fathom. They were the face of hope. People would do anything to see they succeeded.

Rimateus had seen the videos from his sources. Even if they failed, they looked impressive. He would need to make sure he got his own officers into the group. Mark Victor was too much of a wild card—a man from the EMF and more advanced than any of the others.

Rimateus was already looking at ways to bring the man over to his party but if he couldn’t, he would need an alternate plan.

No matter what, the success would be given to Rimateus. They might be called Elves and be commanded by Mark, but because he had been the one to announce that they even existed, he would take the credit.

“We will now have a vote,” the consul said as the cheering died down.

It came back a few moments later. Ninety percent agreed to the measures and it passed. Orders would be cut the next day to transfer the Elves back to Roma.

Unseen by Rimateus, Legate Nerva, acting in his role as a senator of Roma, might have smiled, ever so slightly. Much like a snake might smile at a mouse.

Chapter 35

Emperor’s Palace

Roma, Hellenic system

9/3352

Emperor Felix Cassius sat at a large, ornate desk. It had been used by his forefathers since they had first come to Roma’s inhospitable planet surface.

Some of the biggest decisions of his life had been made around this table. A touch surface augmented the real wood top.

He controlled the most powerful empire in known space. Most times it just feels like I’m playing mediator for a bunch of idiots.

His latest issues were the reports of Maraukians getting an A-drive and the senate pushing for the study of a man who had fought Maraukians face-to-face.

Cassius gazed at the windows of his palace. It looked out on the massive fields that created a clear line of vision around his ancestral home. More than one party had tried to cross those fields and covered it in their blood.

Mark’s abilities were strange, and Nerva believed they could give the legions the ability to attack the Maraukians, not simply sit behind their walls.

It was the kind of advantage that Damus and Nerva had dreamed about for years. Hell, Felix wanted it as well.

Nerva had trained Felix when he was a little boy. He was one of the few people who could take an impudent prince and hit him upside the head and wouldn’t bat an eyelid. No matter someone’s standing, their actions under his command were the only proof he knew.

Felix’s centurion had been a smuggler until he was caught, given the option of hard labor or joining the legion. He’d joined the legion and commanded the emperor himself.

In high society, it had caused outrage. Nerva had bulldozed through it, not caring.

Emperor Gnaeus, Felix’s father, did nothing to help his son, and Felix was happy for it. His two years of service taught him more lessons than he thought possible. He’d signed on for five more years.

Nerva might be a hard man, but he was fair. He would do everything in his power to tilt the odds in his people’s favor and see they were cared for.

He was one of the few people who Felix knew would give him an honest opinion. Nerva’s suggestions were bold, but they solved many of his issues.

“Livia, send a message to Nerva. Mark Victor and the other Elves will be recalled to Roma. See he sets up a meeting with all three of us. I want to talk to this Mark Victor myself.”

“Yes, sir,” Livia said.

Cassius looked at the recordings and information from the Senate House.

Senator Rimateus had been kind enough to give Damus and Nerva the support they’d wanted. The problem was putting the Elves under the control of the senate.

Many of them meant well, but others were snakes and vipers. They had all been elected to their positions, but there were multiple ways to hide and lie about aspects.

His father had always said how it was an emperor’s job to encourage his people to grow, but to not overgrow their boundaries. Everything had a place and everything had a purpose. If it started to do things that it wasn’t supposed to, then it was liable to throw the whole thing into chaos.

Right now, Cassius and the senate needed to show a united front. As much as the senate was good, they were only just people. Cassius knew they would do everything to use the Elves to promote themselves; they would fight and barter over who would get their support.

They were fighting for their people and Cassius understood it. They were focused on a planet or a region. Cassius was looking at an empire. What was good for the empire might not be good for a few regions or planets. He would save all he could, but sometimes there was nothing he could do but sacrifice a few for the greater whole.

Felix looked out over his fields and the Roma cities in the distance, the mega-scrapers which rose from the underground caves to above the planet’s surface.

These were his people and it was his duty to defend them with everything in his power. Even if he had to defend them from themselves.

Chapter 36

Camp Epsilon

Tricticus, Emarl system

9/3352

“It seems they’ve found out about your group here and the senate is recalling all of the merging capable personnel to Roma. So far, I haven’t been told what you’ll be doing in Roma. You will probably be put under the purview of Primus Pilus Martin Faust. The man follows his orders like a bloodhound on the scent—help him, he’ll be fine; don’t and he’ll be a major thorn in your ass.”

“Understood, sir. I won’t get in his way. I actually want him to find out more about the suits. It’ll make my life easier and the faster he can get it done, the faster we can train more people to use the skills and equipment we have available. When will we be getting transport?”

“Should be in a week and a half. Captain Chen’s coming. He’s now captain of the battleship Moby. It’s his warm-up run.”

“Also, could I use the mag lift to throw some satellites up?”

“What for? The Maraukians bombard them every time they arrive so why put them up?”

“I’m working on a new idea to make a grid of them so as soon as the sensors find a Maraukian ship jumping in, they turn off and change direction, appearing random.”

Pullo’s eyes glazed over.

“I can do all of the labor myself, of course, and it’ll only take a few days. It may give us GPS and long-range imagery.”

“All right, I’ll okay it if you do something for me.”

“What?”

“Go see your goddaughter and my wife when you’re in Roma.”

“What??”

“Go and see your goddaughter and my wife. I’m not going to say it for a third time.” Pullo grinned.

“You got married?”

“Yup, fourth time’s the charm. Got a three-year-old too. Her name’s Taylor. I think she’d be overjoyed to meet her godfather.”

“Why make me her godfather? There’s got to be millions of better choices!”

“How many of those choices have saved my life more times than I can count and are as much my brother as any blood? Not many, I think. What’s mine is yours, Mark. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of my family.”

Mark looked away for a second. He studied a picture intently, a small smile on his face. He turned back to Pullo, his eyes a little wet. “Thank you, Pullo.”

“Oh shush. Go launch your damned satellites and make something for my daughter while you’re at it—probably something pink.”

“I will.” They clasped arms over Pullo’s desk and slapped each other’s backs.

“Now git. I have a mile-tall stack of paperwork to do!”

They smiled at each other.

“All right then, Pullo. I’ll get back to work. Also, the Phantom Lords might need to pay a visit to Crisidium and Gtrul for some leave.”

“Oh, what for?” Pullo asked, confused.

“New clothes,” Mark said as they grinned conspiratorially.

***

“Queue the subsidiary forges for the satellites.”

“Done.”

“See if there’s transport going to Gtrul or Crisidium.” Mark picked two out of the lists, sending the departure times to his people Sarah had broken in half by those who wanted to go to Crisidium and those to Gtrul.

“Update on safe haven?”

“Insertion complete. Primary facilities complete. More energy supplementation will be required if we are to meet established timetable. Will reach primary power core in a month without increased supplies. Parts two to five will take three years to complete. Defensive systems will take a further five years. Production will begin in a year and a half. Excavation will be completed in a projected eighty years.”

“Good. Until then, where are we going to?”

“We’re off to Crisidium. The high king and his family have an open invitation to you for dinner. Plus, they want to talk about plans and I thought you might want to go.”

“Sure thing.”

Mark heard a rumbling behind him as he walked toward the hangar and his assigned drop-ship. He was used to the stares by now as he entered the hangar.

“Jump.”

Mark jumped a few feet in the air as the rumbling was right behind him. His armor opened, wrapping itself around him and sealing as he touched the ground. Diagnostics scrolled across his HUD as he met up with the other Phantoms on his drop-ship.

They sent their greetings by emotion, not wasting the time on thinking. Mark understood; to the men and women in front of him, everything was a conservation of energy. The idea of why use more when you could use less to do the same thing was their mantra. Fighting continuous battles had showed them when to conserve their energy and when to expend it.

As Mark got on the drop-ship, it sealed up. He found his seat quickly and pulled the harness down as the accelerator rail kicked the drop-ship into the air. It banked, turning toward Crisidium. The Elves went to sleep as they waited, for once on a relaxed flight.

Crisidium had changed since Mark had seen it with a sea of Maraukian bodies lying in front of its walls.

There were now foundations going in beyond the wall, expanding into what had been the abattoir for further walls. The armorite plating had been pulled back in sections, revealing the clear domes that covered marketplaces, the palace set into the mountain range, the parks and observatories people could now take a transport tube to that looked over the armored city-state. Small ground transports landed in the now repaired harbor alongside ships that had survived, doing a brisk business—taking off for the legionnaire’s camp, to Gtrul and settlements that had been re-established along the massive river and the ocean beyond. A landing pad had been created alongside the mountain range for larger transports and drop-ships.

The drop-ship settled down; the ramps opened as unloading bots piled out, carrying supplies to their designated points. Mark could see the outline for a hangar extending into the mountain. Crisidium might be enjoying new freedom but they hadn’t forgotten their lessons, as was seen by the military increase in weaponry and armorite walls.

Mark and the other Phantoms wandered out, scanning the area and naturally checking their M19As for those without suits. All of the trainers turned leaders had the few that had been made by Crisidium and Gtrul, so Chyna, Mark, and Ava checked their M20s under the wary eyes of the Crisidium army holding their older M17s and composite armor with armorite plates overtop. They’d only had limited Jupiter-armored personnel but it was another thing that was being worked on as first-generation Jupiter—the kind only given to planetary military forces—could be seen on a few.

A squad of royal guard wore their Jupiter-powered armor, only able to use it as they were “on loan” by the Ninth.

Ava and Chyna unsealed their helmets. Immediately, the royal guard took a knee and looked down, with the army doing the same.

“Captain Serouti. Good to see you.” Ava’s voice sounded slow and odder than what Mark and the others were used to. “Will you please get out of the dirt? It’s rather annoying trying to have a conversation with one person looking at the ground.”

“Yes, my princess.” He rose, amusement in his voice. “We’ve prepared transports for you all.”

Mark looked at the ground hoppers, basically a high-output anti-grav accelerator with some controls and a hood. “I don’t think—”

“Mark, Chyna and I will make our own way to the palace,” she said, drawing the same conclusion. “The rest of the Phantoms will ride in the transports.”

“Very well, my princess.”

The Phantoms were already making for the transports as Ava and Chyna replaced their helmets. Mark rose into the air, holding his arms to his side and taking the apex of the arrow as Chyna and Ava joined him. As they sped up and flew over the opened Crisidium, people pointed up at them through the viewing domes.

“Sarah, can you open us a door in case they don’t?”

“Understood. Handshake protocol. I’m in their system—ugh, civilian grade,” she said in mild disgust. “Accessing controls. Laying a back door. Opening hatch above the palace.”

A caret appeared, marking the man-sized hatch above the palace. It opened as they came closer. Mark dropped in first, floating inside of the armor shield above Crisidium. Ava and Chyna fell behind him.

They looked down onto the entrance into the palace gardens that lined the sides of the massive structure built into and then out of the mountain. The king was being pulled back by his guards as they trained their weapons on the three suits hanging in the air.

Ava dove for the ground rapidly, like a speeding bullet. She took off her helmet as her suit hovered, still moving toward the high king and his family. Her suit split and she jumped to the ground, wearing a white dress with colorful blue cloth running from her neck down the length of her body.

Chyna did the same, coming out in Crisidium dress, wearing an immaculate white tunic with the symbol of the household of the high king of Crisidium next to the Phantom’s standard on his chest—one in blue and the other in holographic form.

Mark grinned as he landed, still wearing his suit. The guards relaxed but wary of the unknown Mark represented as he stood there, watching the events unfold.

Ava’s mother was now shorter than her daughter by a half foot. It was obvious where Ava got her legs and looks from, Mark could see. She embraced her daughter; Ava’s two younger brothers raced away from their nannies and tutors to their sister, pestering her about her suit and why she was so much taller. Also older looking. Ava’s mother pushed her away a few times before she hugged her again, studying how her daughter had changed. Her father smiled, looking upon his family happily.

Chyna nodded to Captain Froleck Taleel—his son, Sarah informed Mark—obvious pride in his eyes.

“Why don’t you lot go on in and get caught up. I’ll get someone to find room for the suits and I’ll wait for the others.”

They started to complain and turned back to Mark.

“I’m just going to give them a few rules and then let them run free. I’ll look after the suits. So shut up. I’ll see you at this meal or whatever in three days.”

Both Chyna and Ava had made Mark agree to come; apparently the high king wanted to thank him and he liked to do it in a big way.

They didn’t need any further encouragement. Ava and her family led the way; Captain Taleel dropped back. Chyna pat his son on the back as they started a quiet conversation, leaving Mark, the royal guard, and the two floating suits. Mark turned on his anti-grav, seemingly lying in mid-air with his arms across his stomach without a care in the world as the transports arrived in front of the palace with the other Phantoms unloading. Mark turned and dropped to his feet to walk to the group of Elves.

“All right, you sorry bastards. Let’s go get those suits.”

Grins appeared on their faces as Chyna and Ava’s suits obediently followed behind him, floating in mid-air.

The Phantoms walked out of the palace grounds and through the streets, quickly gathering a crowd that asked questions, staring and touching the Phantoms as they entered the workshops of Crisidium, another structure along the mountain ridge. Everyone who was not an merger was pushed away by angry workers trying to do their jobs.

Unhappily, they wandered away as the Phantoms walked through the labyrinth that was the workshops. Here and there, modern tools could be seen, new and clean, being put to work on anything from anti-grav engines to view screens.

Old techniques were still at work, with handcrafted metal and woodwork coming from some shops. They walked deeper, the candlelight being replaced by shoddy electrical lights.

“All right, this will just not do.” Mark saw sparks arcing from a bad power conduit. “You keep going. I’m going to see what I can do. Sarah, pull up power overlay.”

“Where do you need us, boss?” Mikael slung his rifle; the rest did the same, begrudged grins on their faces.

“Take a contubernium to the reactor—something looks iffy. Reese, take another to check the plasma conduits. Amelia, you’re with me. We’re going to check all of these damned faults.”

The group dispersed. Mark’s hand turned into a wrench as he pulled off a power panel.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” A man got up from his worktable.

“Fixing this row of lights. There.” Mark removed the corroded wires; his nanites ate the rust as he reconnected them to the power outlet. A line of previously unused lights flashed into existence, brightening the entire area.

“Then by all means, keep at it.” The man blinked, now able to see the armed eight-and-a-half-foot armored man and nearly as tall others around him, pulling out power lines, splicing them, replacing them and fixing any problems in the lines as rows of lights came on. The dull light made the cut-out caves seem as if they were in sunlight.

“Ah, that’s where I put it!” A worker picked up a long-lost tool.

“Found the problem in the reactor. They’ve been using unrefined helium.”

Mark cringed. “Have you told them what that was doing to the reactor?”

“Yes. Before, it seems they didn’t have enough money to buy the helium-3 from us. Now they can and know what the unrefined helium was doing, they put in an order with the base.”

“Did you talk to them about setting up maybe a refinement plant on the river? Then they could sell it to the transport there, have a near unlimited supply and pay less for it?”

“I was just about to tell them that.”

“Sure you were.”

“I’ve got our people working on the injectors and the fuel lines, cleaning up all the gunk that they can.”

“Good work, Mikael. We’re slowly working our way toward you. Keep me updated.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Where can I get a tool like that?” a worker asked as Mark’s nanites spliced two power cables together; the rest in the line came alive and the nanites trickled back to Mark’s suit.

“You can’t get one like this unless you’re in the Ninth. Though all you need is a splicer.” He scanned the area, seeing what he needed. “Mind if I borrow this?”

“All right.” The owner of the tool turned back to the grav sled he was working on.

“With this, I can pull off the insulator.” He demonstrated what he was doing, his suit shining light on his work area as more people gathered around.

“Then I take these two wires and splice them together. Put a bit of sealing tape on it and move onto the next one. You try.” He gave the tool to the worker, who repeated the procedure on another split in the wire. He passed the tool onto others, each of them getting the hang of it until the wire was done.

“Now this row is done.”

“Sarah, power.” The lights came online, with an air recycler that the workshop desperately needed cooling down the hot and humid space and eliminating the odors of thousands of people working in an enclosed space.

“What is that thing?” one of the workers asked.

“An air recycler. Here, I’ll show you one.” He took them to a broken one, proceeding to pull it apart and explain why he was doing so. Here and there, Phantoms where giving impromptu lessons, letting the people in the workshops fix their own lights and the multitude of new tech gadgets they’d had put in but never seemed to work.

“Good to see you, Reese.”

“Having fun, boss?”

“Not too bad. Nearly done with all of the little bits. How’re the conduits?”

“Some of them were placed in general walkways. Had one beaten down with a sledgehammer because carts where having a hard time getting through.”

“Sledgehammers?” Plasma conduits did exactly what it sounded like; they moved plasma from the core to heating systems throughout the city, bleeding off heat and energy as they went. The pipes were resilient to deal with the heat and pressure the plasma put on them. Yet hitting them with a sledgehammer was a quick way to have liquid as hot as the sun vent through an even minute crack and turn the surrounding area into an instant oven.

“Yes, sir. We’ve corrected their way of thinking and buried the pipes deeper and we’re working on secondary bleed-off relays. We were thinking of putting them in a way to link up to the walls to be a nice surprise to any would-be intruders.”

“I like your thinking, Reese. Keep it up.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Sarah, system diagnostic?”

“Good. The rest of the problems—other than the plasma conduit—they should be able to fix.”

“All right. Get your people fixing anything that they see needs it but moving into the forges area of the caves.”

“Yes, sir.” Reese turned to find his people.

Mark stepped out of his suit, using it, Ava’s, and Chyna’s remotely with Sarah’s help to fix any issues he could find.

“All right, better. Let’s go and get those damn suits, I say.”

The Phantoms were anxious, grouped together outside of a sealed armorite vault. Mark input the code Pullo had given him to open the room. Inside, there was a clean room that had been purposefully cut from rock with straight lines and a legionnaire crew to one side working with a forge. Mark waved away their salutes before they could finish them. Behind them and along the wall, there were nanite tanks with Crisidium-trained morphers working. Though all of that was lost on the Phantoms as they looked at the thirteen suits that lined the walls.

Each of the Phantoms who had won the lottery stood in front of their suit. One by one, they opened them. Their clothes returned to nanites as they settled inside. Their suit sealed around them, booted up for the first time and adjusted to their users.

Mark nodded approvingly as the first thing they did was load their internal magazines, slap on high-density ammunition blocks and secure their M20s. “All right. Go and have fun, you lot.”

The majority of them fell forward, using anti-grav as they accelerated out of the workshop’s tunnels and into the sealed Crisidium.

“Now, do you guys want your suits?” Mark laughed as the answers came back. “All right, all right. Well then, let’s get to it. Sarah, the parts.”

Through the opened vault door, a line of mover robots came in, carrying crates of materials that they dropped.

“In those containers are carbon hendral plates. We just have to form them and make the rest.” He sent them a sketch of what they had to do as he put his hands into a nanite vat. A few others joined him as he sent them parts to work on. They knew the Pluto-powered armor as intimately as Mark and the development team did. They set to work as parts were dropped into the nanite vats; the nanites swarmed as small parts and then a form started to come together. Every person was in charge of one small section, which was then grouped together. Once they had all of that one thing, they would move onto the next thing and the next. Starting from the smallest building blocks.

It seemed like an eternity as they finished the first. Their NIAIs released chemicals and hormones, bringing them clarity.

At some point, the rest of the Phantoms returned to see what their brothers and sisters were doing. They jumped in, taking the lion’s share on their relatively rested systems.

They lost the feeling for time as they worked continuously, their NIAIs taking care of the physiological needs—releasing stored organic and inorganic energy so there was no need to pause.

The Phantoms who already had suits purposefully took on most of the work, tiring themselves out as they made the largest and the most complex parts.

Anti-grav lifts picked up and threw parts from one vat to another, grouping everything together as suit after suit began to form. Then finally they were done. Mark input the coding and they were pulled from the nanite tanks. Nanites streamed from their deadly frames as their wearers practically rushed into them.

The ones who had gotten their suits first happily passed out as Mark watched the rest fly out as the first group had. Before he, too, passed out.

Mark awoke in a suit, not knowing how he got there but more comfortable than he’d find any bed. Someone tapped on his face plate. “What?” he groaned through his speakers; nanites cleared the fluff from his eyes as he woke up fully.

“Dinner, you dolt,” Ava said, wearing her own suit.

“That’s in two days. Let a guy get some sleep.”

“It’s today. You spent two days making suits.”

“Oh,” he said as Sarah brought up the date on his HUD—mercifully on the lowest light setting and keeping his main optical sensors dimmed. “Well then. What am I wearing?”

“A suit.”

“Okay. Let’s go. Lead on.”

“You’re going to sleep in there until we get to the palace, aren’t you?” Ava sighed.

“Yep. See you in a few.” Mark let sleep take him again as Sarah walked him. He’d grown used to it, catching a quick five minutes whenever possible.

It felt as if he’d barely closed his eyes when he opened them again. Sarah brought him awake slowly as they walked into the palace, a royal guard around them. Mark snorted at the irony.

“You awake?”

“Unfortunately.”

Ava stepped out of her suit first in a sweeping light dress. Mark followed after she looked over him severely.

“Clothes, adjust.”

“Bu—” Seeing there was no sense fighting, he sent her command to his nanite clothing. He was a guy, after all, and she was nothing less than stunning in her dress. He tried to look away, which he got reprimanded for as his suit moved around him, changing colors until she approved, walking around him.

She sent commands until the suit worked to emphasize Mark’s build instead of fall from it.

“Not bad.” Ava tucked her arm in his.

“Now we’re ready. Let’s go.” Mark could see other guests looking at them as they ascended the steps. Hell, so where the guards and the servers. He hated these events with a passion and wished sorely he was back inside of his suit. Which was sealed and flying to a vantage point Ava’s was already going for.

He made to look behind.

“Don’t even think about it.” Ava said as if reading his mind, her exotic eyes smoky as he gulped and looked forward.

He would much rather be charging a trench than the palace, he decided as they were announced and everyone in the lobby of the palace turned to look at Ava and Mark.

Mark felt his connection to Chyna stronger than it had been anywhere in Crisidium as he locked eyes with the man, silently pleading. But the man smiled serenely and raised a glass as if in toast and turned back to his conversation.

When I get my hands on him… Mark promised himself as Ava worked the room, her arm bringing him around and she gave him prompts and such until they’d done the entire room. Then as he thought he was going to be able to get away, someone thought it was necessary to announce dinner was about to be served. Joy.

Mark was seated to the left of the high king, probably a high seat of honor the way he was getting stares from everyone. But he didn’t much care for it as he felt the chair crack.

“These chairs are the strongest I’ve ever seen. No normal human would break them,” Duke Shreft said just loud enough to reach the end of the table, a sly smile on his face as he looked at Mark and Ava.

Mark looked back at the man, noncommittally sighing. “If you’ve got something to say about me, say it to my face.” His brown eyes changed to electric blue and the shoulders of his suit turned to nanites swarming through the chair. Gasps and scared looks came from around the room. Serouti waved his men back as Mark’s arms returned back to the suit; his eyes returned to normal as he put his full weight in the chair.

“I’m just finding it odd that you—something that is not even human—has been allowed to corrupt even the high king’s family, changing his daughter into a soulless…thing.”

“No more soulless than you.” Mark grinned. “I have also heard the saying it is better to be mindful of your elders, young duke. Please do so. I may not be mostly human but that is because I hope to give our race a fighting chance at surviving the Maraukians.”

“Mark,” Ava said in a warning tone.

“Don’t worry. I did the same to your chair.” He grinned.

“Jackass.”

“I see you’re picking up more Earth words too.”

She sighed and hid a smile behind a goblet of wine.

“Now that’s all done with,” Hael gave the duke a significant look, “I heard you were in the workshops for the last few days?”

“Yes. There were some issues with the equipment placed there. So we fixed it, and made the remaining suits.”

“You made all of them?” The man asked, across from Mark and down the table, wore more workable and comfortable clothes that made more sense than the frills and other designs that Mark saw the other attendees wearing.

“All of the ones needed for those I brought with me.”

“How? I had all of the highest morphers I could working on that, up to even a level five.”

“Our lowest morph level in our ranks is eight. Ava, what’s yours again?”

“Thirteen, I believe.”

“That’s higher than anyone recorded.” The man, aghast, looked at Ava with new eyes.

“We need it, though, as our suits use a huge amount of nanites.” Mark shrugged as food came to the table.

“Just incredible. Also, I thank you for the work you did on the systems—they were in need of repair. Also, the lessons you gave to the people in the workshops have spread like wildfire, so they should know how to deal with the problems in the future.”

“That’s the hope,” Mark said, getting back into his meal.

“What is Earth like?” the high queen asked.

Mark felt a mix of emotions pass through him as he put down his fork. “Highly populated,” he settled on saying, breathing before he looked up.

“How so?”

“The population of Earth is ninety billion.”

“I’m new to this counting system of yours, sorry. I don’t truly understand it.”

“Oh, no one can truly accept that number. As humans, we just can’t, but to put it in perspective, Crisidium has seven hundred thousand people. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“If you were to have two Crisidiums, it would mean you’d have one point four million people.” Mark used his internal holoprojector on the middle of the table, garnering gasps as a circle of stick-like humans filled it.

“Take this as the population of Earth.” He pulled a single figure from the hundreds.

“This is the population of two Crisidiums in comparison.”

A single figure’s feet barely circled in red as Mark placed it back among the others. The red was less than a pinprick against it all.

“That’s impossible,” the duke who had commented about Mark’s weight said with the air of authority.

“This is Earth.” A planet filled the center of the hall; conversations stopped completely as they stared at the pollution-filled planet. Towers dominated the landscape more than the natural mountains. Around the planet, space stations floated, the moving dots the massive transports that supplied Earth—the smallest being a kilometer long and the longest being a pair that were forty kilometers long. Shipyards buzzed with the same electric activity as ships buzzed around continuously.

“You were right—there is no way I can imagine that number of people, even when seeing this,” the high queen said in wonder.

“When did the legion save them from the Maraukians?” Prince Julieus Desialias asked, Ava’s oldest brother under her.

“Earth has never known of the Maraukian threat fully. The legion came from Earth two and a half thousand years ago, seven hundred years ago they came into contact with a number of EMFC’s Earth wanted to claim the system and enslave the people.

They never said anything of this to the people within Earth and Her Colonies. The EMF got comfortable with the Roma people as their leaders started to construct a plan to subjugate them, the Maraukians erupted out from their caves and hidden warrens across Roma.

The leaders tried to flee but the EMF troopers fought back, they were now friends with the Roma people.

The mutiny worked and Earth lost contact while the Legion and the EMF fought to push back the Maraukians and survive.”

“The legion comes from Roma, though?” His brother Cronus turned the statement into a question.

“The legion came originally from a place called Rome in Greece.” Mark rotated the Earth to highlight the area. “The Roman was one of the most successful Empires, only beaten later in strength by the British Empire and then the Unilateral Worlds Union, which currently rules Earth and Her Colonies. The current Legion absorbed the EMF personnel that turned against their commanders and leaders, forming the Legion we know today. Which still continues to recruit people from the EMF, offering them freedom from the Colonies and gaining a stream of highly trained and combat tested fighters.”

“Does Earth also join the legion?”

“No. Earth doesn’t even know the Ninth exists, or of the legion.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated. The largest problem is the UWN is corrupt, trying to do everything to garner wealth for the companies that bureaucrats are bought by.”

“Bought by?”

“On Earth and in her colonies, there are companies that make everything from ships, to knives and forks. They make profits, like any vendor. Their profits are massive, sometimes meaning a company uses an entire world to produce certain items and sell these throughout Earth’s domain. Sometimes there are issues such as people having less equality to others. Thus, the companies support an up-and-coming candidate with huge sums of money.

“These people get into office and then turn around and help the company by changing the laws so the company can continue to operate as it wishes, now making a larger profit.”

“That sounds ridiculous!”

“It does, but it happens.”

“Then, Mark, if Earth knows nothing of the legion, how come you—an Earth born—are part of it?” the high king asked.

“Well, I don’t really remember how I got here. I was drunk and I guess I stumbled into a supply shuttle. They didn’t pick me up. As we left Earth, I boarded a transport and then jumped to Tricticus’s system. I awoke as the shuttle was coming through the atmosphere. Not the best place to have a hangover, let me tell you.” He shook his head at a few grins and smiles around the table.

“Ava tells us you’ll be going to Roma soon. When will you return?” the high queen asked.

“No idea. Might be a year—might be a century.”

“A century?” She gasped.

“A century isn’t that big of a deal any more, Mother. With the technology Roma gave us, people can expect to live four hundred years quite easily,” Ava said.

“An entire century, though! Why would you be gone for that long?”

“It all depends on what’s happening,” Mark said. “We have recently found some very disturbing things out which may mean we will see action faster than normal. Currently, the Phantoms are the only unit who could possibly go toe-to-toe with the Maraukians and we’ll need that if we have to take back planets from them and hold others.”

“Still, when we die, she’ll be queen of Crisidium.” Hael looked at Mark and Ava meaningfully.

“I would actually like to talk about that,” Ava said. Now the conversation died down at the table as everyone listened closer.

Ava commed her family something; they nodded in agreement.

“Mark, we’ve also been meaning to pay you back but it doesn’t seem fair,” the high king began as conversation around the table restarted.

“Just doing what I can to help.”

“You pulled us from actually being in debt with the legion to having enough credits to buy directly from Roma, Luetia, and Rublein—our closest planets. Also, your satellites have helped us map our world and find resources of our own.”

“It’s just a kick start. What you do with it is up to you.”

“We propose to give you a stipend of our profits, half a percent a year.”

“Sir, I don’t need the money.”

“Certainly everyone needs money.”

“As long as I have my suit and I’m in the legion, not really. I can live in the suit, eat, breathe, and stay alive. And the legion gives me things to do and places to be. I’m a soldier. It’s what I’m good at. I can teach some and I have a few masters under my belt but soldiering is what keeps others alive and I’ll happily do that.”

“A few masters from these universities the legion talks about?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I got bored—what can I say, Ava?”

“Which universities?”

“Roma’s.”

“Link?” Ava’s hands moved through the air as she looked at her interface, invisible to everyone else, opening it.

“It’s good to educate yourself. The more I know about the universe, the better I can use it.”

“I didn’t really think of it that way but it’s true,” Hael agreed.

“I had some ideas about a helium refinement system for the river so you can supply the reactor and the supply ships and when you get into space, for them too.”

“I heard what happened with the reactor,” the man from the workshops said with a grim look.

“Me too.” The high king shared a nod with the man. “But us into space?”

“Quite easily. Within fifty years, on the outside, you could probably be building infrastructure in space. I have some satellites I’ll be sending into space to look at the system. So far, they look good except for the fourth planet—Erotus, I believe you call it. It’s in the middle of an asteroid belt. The atmosphere is highly acidic and has a massive amount of lightning storms and constantly active volcanoes.”

“That sounds decidedly bad,” the high king said with a smile, his eyes glistening with the possibilities for the future.

“Just a bit, sir.” Mark grinned and raised his cup to the king in salute as he took a drink.

“So what about these plans for a helium processing facility?”

Mark spent the rest of the dinner working through an outline of possible facilities Crisidium could make. He found out the man was the manager of the workshops, who duly forgot about dinner as he wrote down things on his interface; Mark sent him information as needed. The royal family asked questions every so often as Ava sat back and ate dinner, a smile on her face as she looked at Mark capturing all of their attention.

“All right, enough of that, gentlemen. Now time for dancing.” The queen gave her husband and the others a glare that quelled any complaints.

The servants pulled out the chairs for everyone to rise. Mark grabbed it, about to do it himself when a servant came to him.

“Sir, I can do that for you.” He grabbed it and pulled it until veins appeared on his neck.

Mark cleared his throat as the man moved away and lifted it himself. “Sorry. I changed the chair. It weighs quite a bit more. Ava.” He pulled out Ava’s for her; her servant eyed it warily.

“Yes, about three hundred pounds heavier.” She raised her voice to reach Duke Shreft, who looked at the two chairs Ava and Mark had sat in, now platinum and osmium with some gold instead of the gold leafing of the rest.

“They are rather fine chairs now,” the high king said approvingly.

“We’ll keep them for you and any other Elves who might visit. For now, let us move to the ballroom.” His wife put her hand on his arm, as the rest followed. Ava did the same, guiding Mark behind them to the chatter going on around them.

“Do they know we can hear them perfectly?”

“Probably not. We’re going to be the biggest scandal in Crisidium yet.”

“Wait—what?”

“Well, I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I’m thinking that me having my arm on another man has already probably made it to Gtrul.”

“Great. Why did I agree to this again?”

“If you didn’t, I’d take you to the dojo and throw you off the walls.”

“Like to see you try.”

“You do, hey? Oh, can you dance?”

“Nope, but I believe Sarah can take over for me.” He grinned; Ava reciprocated.

“All right, let’s match so that we can.”

They’d found out how to link each other’s NIAIs together, thus making a group of people work in perfect synchronicity, moving their legs and letting the user worry about targets, positions, and the thousand and one things which made up the battlefield.

Mark felt Sarah and Kela complete the handshake protocol as they figured out what their users were doing and had it ready as the high king and queen took the first dance. Couples of high-born nobles started to do the same as Ava pulled Mark into the fray. Their feet moved perfectly as they began to walk and twirl around the room.

“Faster—let’s show them how Phantoms do it.” Ava had a mischievous glint in her eyes as they moved faster around the room.

Mark added in throws and dives with the music from Earth dances. The others in the room were forgotten as they smiled at each other, twirling and moving perfectly in synch, alive from the exertion and control upon their bodies yet oddly above it as they enjoyed the freeing movements. They ended, Mark supporting her as she stretched like a cat. A smile on both of their faces, Mark pulled her up and spun her into his other arm. She stayed there, clapping; Mark retrieved his arm around her waist to do the same as he walked from the floor, having his arm snatched back by a grinning Ava.

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily.” She winked just as he was about to complain. Sarah had a mind of her own as she and Kela took over Mark and Ava’s speeding up as the band started the next faster song. So they danced for three more songs, finally making their way from the dance floor. Ava apologetically turned down dances, giving the appropriate excuses as they made it to where the high king and the queen were smiling at each other.

“Ava, Mark—didn’t see you there,” the king said. “Thought you’d still be dancing. Looked like you two were having quite a ball.”

“It was more interesting than I expected, I’ll admit.” Mark smiled; Ava did the same. Her mother ushered her away, casting looks at Mark. He shrugged and turned to Hael.

“Come with me.” The king said as he rose.

Mark followed him out to a massive balcony cut right from the mountain, looking over Crisidium with the armorite shell above them. The city was open to reveal the stars of the nighttime sky. White light still emanated from workshops, with materials coming in and goods traveling out and across closed areas where armorite but not shutters had been placed.

“I’m thankful my daughter owes you a life debt.” The king lit a pipe of some kind and rested against the balcony’s railing.

“Why would that be, sir?”

“You’re a respectful man with a good head on his shoulders. You’re not a monster.”

“I’m a hair from it.” Mark grunted, turning to stare at the palace, and leaned gently on the railing.

“You don’t seem like you’d be one to go over the edge.”

“I have already—twice,” Mark barely whispered, looking at the high king.

He recoiled from the look in Mark’s eyes.

“Many died. The only reason I didn’t finish it the second time was to make it appear I was dead. So later I could finish what they started.”

“What happened?”

“The first time, me and my people were about to die for some assholes wanting a producing planet and another asshole wanting to kill everyone to ‘free’ them from the system. The second time, they killed my brother.” Mark spat the words. His eyes changed from brown to red as he crushed the railing in his hands. Anger radiated from him like heat.

“I’ve killed my ways through star systems for all of my adult life.” A grin that would make a wolf piss itself spread across Mark’s face. “Me—not a monster? I must be hiding it too well. You want to know why I really made the Phantoms? Why I told your daughter about me? The universe needed insurance from me. If I was the only one with a suit capable of what mine is, coupled with the abilities I have, it would not be good.”

King Desialias knew in his bones what Mark was saying was the truth and he was suddenly afraid of the knowledge this man knew offhand.

He was feeling that it might be a bad idea putting so much trust and power in this man’s hands.

“I do promise this. I will never hurt my own people unless they warrant it. The Phantoms are my brothers and sisters. They’re the closest thing I have to a kind of family—Pullo, too. I will do anything for them and I will make anyone who harms them wish they never saw me.”

Hael’s thoughts slowed to a crawl, he could understand the sentiments behind Mark’s words, looking at it from another perspective, if he had been in those same extreme circumstances, Hael didn’t know if he would have it together as well as Mark did. He knew that he would be the same, asking for nothing less than the deaths of those that attacked those that he cared for.

“I trust you, Mark. I can see my daughter, knowing what she does, she does too. I wish I could say I doubt her judgment but at times it’s been sounder than my own and I trust her decision. I know you have hard times ahead of you and even know there is a chance you both may die. It saddens me a great deal to think of that, but I know many others will and have to ensure our safety as a race. At least she will have the deadliest bastard in her court and she’ll become one,” he said with a grim stare.

Mark nodded. “I can agree with that.”

“I understand how you think you may become a monster. It’s only truly bad when you forget you don’t want to become one. Then you’ll be one,” he said firmly, looking back to the city. His tone softened. “I hope you come to think of Crisidium as your home. You’ve done so much for us. You saved my daughter and made her laugh and smile more than I thought possible when they were bashing at our door. My wife thinks it’s great you have such a healthy appetite. My boys think of you as a knight of old or a superhero as I’ve seen in the comics.”

“I do…”

“Actually, screw that—I’m a king. Mark Victor, you’re a citizen of Crisidium, family to the royal family and confidant. You may come to the palace as you please and treat it as if it were your own home.”

“The joys of having a king for a husband—always ordering people about.” The queen smiled to her husband and then Mark. “But I agree with him. The dinner is winding down and we’ve sorted out your quarters.”

Mark could sense Ava around the corner and sent her a prompt.

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea!” she said from behind the corner, coming out and putting her hand on her hip, giving her parents a scolding glare before letting up and smiling. “But I agree with them, Mark.” She smiled. “Well, Mother, shall we? He may seem bright with all those degrees but I think he has them to hide a certain lacking in all of his mental abilities.”

“Ava,” Mark said in a warning tone. His face betrayed him as his scold turned into a grin.

“Come on, you lot. You, too, Hael—and put that damned pipe out!”

“Yes, dear,” he said rapidly, tapping out the embers and putting it in his jacket. He gave Mark a shit-I-got-caught look behind her back as she and Ava turned, the two men in tow.

Guards opened the doors to the private quarters. It was four stories tall, with a fountain in the middle opening up to the side of the mountain. There were open, airy quarters, a massive kitchen, extensive library, an office, and dining area.

Mark was guided to the third floor, which was the top of the library with three bedrooms. Mark and Ava’s suits floated up to the quarters. Ava’s room was across the open space that went through all four floors. Ava and her mother flung open the doors to Mark’s quarters. Inside was a sitting room of sorts to one side and a bathroom with an attached bedroom with a window view of the city.

“This’ll be your room for whenever you visit,” the queen said firmly. “Now, we’ll leave you to get some sleep,” she said softly with a smile, guiding her husband away and muttering about dirty habits.

“Those’re some of the best parents I’ve ever seen,” Mark said. His suit floated through the door and landed in his room. His suit changed to fatigues and his suit opened.

“Yes, they are,” Ava said with a forlorn smile.

“Take what time you can with them.”

Ava nodded sadly. The unsaid truth this might be the last week she saw her family or her city and planet forever hung in the air.

“Thank you for tonight, Mark.”

“I should be the one thanking you. I’d have been lost without you.”

“Not to mention not there,” she said with a small grin.

“That too.” He grinned and stood up from the bed, the changes complete.

“Well, goodnight. See you tomorrow then.”

“That you will, though tomorrow we’ll get some real relaxation done!”

“Getting drunk and passing out in a gully is not considered the best kind of relaxation around here.”

“Well, we better have a talk with those people! It’s the best relaxation in the world!”

“All right, goodnight, Mark.” She walked away, her bronzed skin catching the light against her blue and white dress. She closed the doors behind her as Mark walked into his suit.

“Don’t even think about it, Mark.” His thoughts drifted to the evening. For the first time in a very long time, smiles and laughter filled his dreams.

***

Mark woke early. He shrugged, the armor opening as he strolled out into the hall, stretching; his nanite-made clothes looked freshly ironed and starched.

“Report?”

“And good morning to you, too, Mark. The Phantoms enjoyed the lowlights of the city. Those with families have gone to visit. All of them have their armor. Those in Gtrul have theirs too. Those who aren’t doing anything are taking up those courses you gave to Ava and she put on the net. They’re also working on the systems around the city and helping out. We have requests from the architect society and workshop committee for help on different activities. The satellites are ready, awaiting your final checks. Pullo put the launch date as the same day as when the transport comes.”

“Send the requests from the committee and the society to the Phantoms if they want to do it all. See if we can get some more satellites to launch from the ship as we’re leaving the system. Large type Echos, I’m thinking. With those missile casings so we can get them into position faster.”

“Understood. Sending the fabrication order to the forges. Also, it seems that with the forges, the senate wants a system which only the appropriate people can access.”

Mark understood as she uploaded the information to his memory banks.

“All right. Isolate the NIAI and Pluto-powered armor linking code and send it to Charles. That’ll hopefully give him some sort of a baseline.”

“Done. Breakfast will be served in two hours. There is a kitchen which will provide food upon request.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

“No problem.”

Mark walked through the private quarters, making his way down to the first floor and the general area, finding the kitchen by smell.

He walked in with a smile on his face at the fresh baked goods appearing as if by magic from ovens around the room.

“Diaz, I see you over there. We’re not eating till this is all done, mister!” The head chef, a portly woman whose kind features turned into a scowl, waved her stirring spoon at the accused, who hurriedly got back to work, keeping his hands out of any further tasty treats.

“Master chef, I was wondering if I could help?” Mark asked from the doorway.

She sized him up, taking up an aisle between the counters. His mass made him look like a human bulldozer.

“Grab that, that, that, and that,” she pointed to big containers of ingredients, “and put them in those, under their advisement. Try not to knock over everything and break it.”

Mark hefted the large containers; the people at the mixing bowls told him to pour and stop and then get more ingredients.

“May I?” he asked one of the mixers, obviously tired, gesturing to the strange whisk.

“Go for it.” He offered the whisk.

Mark let his nanites work, making the whisk larger and adding a motor. It started up as he put it in the massive pot, being done in a few minutes.

“What’s that you have there?” The head chef looked at the new whisk.

“It’s a motorized whisker.” He showed her as he did the same to the other whisks, then made the ovens easier to warm up and keep heat. Two chefs ran out as they saw his nanites leak from his skin.

“Princess!” the head chef said after an hour of Mark messing around with various kitchen equipment.

He was underneath a sink, turning it into a sonic cleaner and disinfection station as everyone bowed in the room.

“Hey, Ava.” Mark’s hand rose in a wave before he continued with his work.

“Don’t mind me,” Ava said to the kitchen staff as she walked over to Mark, kicking his foot. “Why do I always find you fixing something or passed out?”

“Always catching me at the wrong times. Now, do you think it’s better to make a recycler for a food processor or to turn waste into fertilizer?”

“Food processor, somewhere where everyone can access it so they can get food as they need it.”

“All right, I’m going to interconnect the garbage disposal systems then, and put processors at multiple public places. Sound good, Princess?”

“Sounds good to me.” She sighed as the master chef came over.

“Look at you, getting all skinny. We have to fatten you up! No man would like a twig!” She pulled Ava away.

“I see that grin, Mark!”

“Just make sure you save me some food, Ava. I know what you’re actually like.” Mark looked at her walking away, shaking her head.

Once Mark was done messing with the kitchen, breakfast was served with the royal family. Mark and Ava ate huge amounts of food until everyone departed for their daily activities.

“I thought this might interest you.” Ava brought Mark into the library, towering three floors and filled with books. “It’s the biggest library in all of Tricticus.”

Mark walked around, looking at the masses of books. He picked up one written in Latin. “This is a copy of a book from actual Rome.”

“Yes, there are many like that, but before I didn’t have the time to read them all. I was going to go through all of them and upload them to the net.”

Mark opened a book, reading its contents. “Want a hand?”

“Sure—two’s better than one.”

“All right then, let’s get started.” Mark sat down and flipped through the pages.

Chapter 37

Crisidium

Tricticus, Emarl system

10/3352

“The drop-ship’s here for loading. The shuttle will arrive in a few hours,” Sarah informed Mark as he sat on one of the many balconies of the royal family’s wing.

“Thanks, Sarah.” He didn’t know where the time had gone. He and Ava had finished reading the books the day before. Drinking and partying by night, chaperoning the Phantoms to make sure nothing was destroyed too badly.

He pushed that from his mind as he stood, calling his suit and checking the others had received the message. He walked into the main lobby, his suit floating off the ground. The entire royal family hugged Ava, who had tears in her eyes.

They broke apart after a few seconds. Ava’s mother turned to face Mark. “I know you can’t make me any promises, but please look after her.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

She smiled sadly and nodded.

“Give the Maraukians hell,” Hael said. “We’ll always have a room for you here.”

“Thank you.”

Ava gave them one last hug; then, both she and Mark stepped into their suits and walked out to the balcony. Again, anti-grav took over as they went over the railing, leveling out as Ava and her family waved good-bye before they were lost from sight. Chyna met up with them and then the other Phantoms from across Crisidium as they made their way to the drop-ship.

“Now, let’s go see how Roma is,” Ava said with a hint of sadness and excitement.

Mark grinned in his helmet as one by one, Phantoms formed the arrowhead with Ava and Chyna on his left and right as they flew out of an opened hatch and toward the drop-ship.

***

Mark put the last of his satellites on the maglev as the rail was cleared, firing it after its sisters. It flew out of the base, light being emitted as it encountered air resistance and then was out of the atmosphere, using its rockets to guide it behind the other satellites.

A few minutes later, another white dot appeared in the sky, announcing the arrival of the battleship’s single shuttle, which was making entry into Tricticus’s atmosphere. And just like the sliders coming sedately down, it rested in the main hangar as robots pulled off materials and loaded up new ones into the shuttle’s bays.

“All right, Phantoms, get loaded up. You know the drill.”

“Cargo master, where do you want us?” The cargo master’s look at all of the Phantoms reminded him that not everyone had seen them before and they were quite the oddity still. “Here’s our loading orders.”

“All right, you’re in the upper personnel deck.”

“Thanks, CM.”

The shuttle was made for loading and unloading at speed and was done so within ten minutes, moving untold tons in the short period of time.

Loaded and secured, the shuttle made its way to the accelerator rail Mark had just used for his satellites.

“Launch in three, two, one.”

The maglev accelerated them past Mach nine; the inertial compensators worked against gravities that would kill a normal human in seconds. By the time the nausea had passed, they were through the atmosphere and on course for the battleship Moby.

“Moby, this is Shuttle One. Request permission to dock.”

“Shuttle One, this is Moby. Permission granted.”

The ship’s AI took over the grav controls; the pilot released command as the shuttle was brought to rest in the primary hangar and the bay doors closed behind them.

Sarah showed Mark the layout of the ship as she gained access, showing him the Phantoms assigned rooms, too. Around the shuttle, everyone was unlocking the harnesses now activated for a suit drop and getting to their feet to grab their single bag of personal effects.

“All right, you guys know what to do. Don’t get into shit.” His HUD lit green from everyone as he made his way to the cargo bay. It was one of his old habits that he had brought from the EMF.

“Brings back memories of our first meeting.”

“Little bit.” Mark chuckled as he got to what looked like two five-meter-long missiles.

“All right, let’s get these loaded.”

Mark watched over the missiles as if they were his children, moving them to the rear missile tubes, removing the live missiles and replacing them with his satellite missiles.

“All right, Chen. We’re good here.”

“Seems every time I see you, I’m launching satellites. Looks good on our side here.” Mark had already gotten permission from Chen when he’d entered the system so he left his satellites in the gunner’s hands. “I’ll be with the other Phantoms.”

The battleship was massive compared to an EMF equivalent, stretching six hundred meters long and two hundred meters around its hexagonal faces. It looked deadly, purposely built for battle, and weapons systems on every square foot it could be fit.

The Phantoms gathered stares from the crew on the battleship but they were used to it; a mixture of interest and curiosity of what their modifications had changed and why the senate had ordered the newest and highly upgraded battleship to one of three farthest secured planets and pick up forty-nine people who’d smashed the records on the simulation tanks to shreds.

Once Mark was done studying the ship, he began reading. Others played games. Now everything was done by NIAI, from video games to cards.

The missile/satellites were a normal affair, doing as projected as they were kicked into space along their expected trajectory.

“The satellites have dropped their shells and are deploying their high-density solar panels. We’re also about to enter jump, if you want to see.”

“You know me, Sarah.” Mark’s book disappeared as he and nearly all of the other Phantoms swarmed toward the best view screen on the ship. They watched through the forward-facing space view screen as the bridge counted down to jump.

“Engaging A-drive in five.” A countdown continued on the screen. As it hit zero, the ship thrummed and its bulkheads vibrated. The screen went from white to every color imaginable again to the gray of subspace.

“Three and a half weeks before we reach Roma. Get comfortable, people. Also, Centurion Victor, please report to the bridge at your earliest convenience.”

“Better go and see what he wants.” Mark walked through the ship, enjoying the ringing sound of the catwalks and the recycled air. It had been so long since he’d been in a military transport; he realized how much he missed them. His wave of nostalgia passed as he was ushered on to the bridge.

“Mark, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Well, if I know what it is, maybe I can help.”

“When I got this ship, it was half out of the dock. She was all sealed up and had basically everything in. Charles got his hands on it and has remodeled most of it to get it into fighting trim. Even with his help and all of the upgrades, I have a three-quarters completed ship and there’s another ship being built in the berth I was in.”

“Seems Roma is ramping up the legion faster than I expected.”

“Yes, it’s a madhouse.”

“Okay, I’ll pass it onto my people. Do you have a forge?”

“No, but we have more materials than we can shake a stick at and four workshops.”

“I’ll get working on a forge right away then and we’ll see what we can do.”

“You can make one?”

“Well, our suits are made from nanites. We can make nearly anything with enough power and materials.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem. I’ll feel safer if the ship I’m on is fully completed instead of nearly.”

“Anything you need is at your disposal.”

“Thanks, Captain. I’ve had too much rest already,” Mark said dryly.

“Haven’t we all,” Chen replied in the same tone.

Chapter 38

SLS Moby

Roma, Hellenic system

2/3353

“Welcome to Roma system,” Chen said over the general NIAI and internal speaker system. “Another two days till we reach Roma central.”

Content, Mark continued reading and going to the mess every so often, joining in a few card games with the Phantoms here and there.

“Shuttle ready for loading Phantoms,” Chen announced through the Phantoms’ NIAI network.

Phantoms came from all over the ship until they were all together, entering the hangar.

“Good luck, Phantoms, and remember to fly Moby air,” Chen said as they were loaded onto the shuttle.

The drop doors beneath the shuttle opened and the shuttle turned, looking toward Roma Prime. From there, it was a reasonably slow descent through the atmosphere to the Roma legion’s home base: Legionnaire Tower.

Mark whistled as he looked down. The tower was four kilometers tall and shaped like a warship with its multi-faced side. Shuttles, drop-ships, and air cars buzzed around it, stopping at hangars that seemed to sprout from every wall. Sarah overlaid the structure, showing him an underground complex easily ten times the size of the above tower.

They reached the tower with an armed contubernium coming to attention as Mark was the first off the shuttle. Mark came to the contubernium leader, saluting, which he replied in kind.

“We’re to escort you to the camp.”

“Thank you, Evocatus Yurek. Lead on if you please.”

They didn’t wear armor and were wearing actual fatigues instead of the nanite film the Phantoms did. But it was obvious they were Elves as Mark felt the now natural sensation of Elves being close. Mark could also feel the others below them as they got into maglev lifts. Only four people were able to fit in them instead of the normal ten. Mark had to half crouch to clear his head.

The Phantoms jacked into the tower’s net, wirelessly passing information as they merged, highlighting where they were going and prevalent information like escape routes and ammunition points. Mark grinned; he’d trained them well, he thought. By the time the lift stopped, they’d integrated fully into the tower’s net.

“You must be Mark Victor.”

“And you Martin Faust.” Mark took off his helmet so he didn’t have to use his speakers as Evocatus Yurek and his men led the other Phantoms to their rooms. Martin Faust looked like a poster-perfect soldier: a twenty-something, with the height and a heavy muscle build, blond hair, and perfect teeth. His eyes showed his true age of about two times what he appeared.

“I guess I have you to thank for all of this training and feeling invincible.”

“I had a role in it.”

“A role in it—that’s a way to put it.” His perfect teeth flashed. “Well, anyway, we haven’t got orders past to bring you here and watch you.”

“What’s the merger initiative doing?”

“We’re working through the changes the body modification has done and to see what they do.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, why?”

“I sent off a report detailing all of that. Charles and the development team have it—they needed to know it to help me make the suit.”

“Charles has effectively been cut out of this phase as the medical sector has taken this over.”

“Probably to try to look relevant still.” Mark rubbed his face. “Idiots.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is going to take a while. Shall we go grab a seat?”

“Let’s go to the mess. They have some coffee too.”

“Read my mind.”

“Sarah, get me access to the medical sector’s people’s records. The stares I’m getting from people gives me the distinct impression they haven’t used suits much.”

“They have a few hours. The most is about thirty hours.”

Mark winced as they reached the mess.

“You might want to get out of the suit. You’ll probably break the chair.”

“Wow, this isn’t good.”

“Pardon?” Martin took two cups of coffee and offered one to Mark, who strapped a gauntlet to his chest as they made their way to a table.

“Sorry, please don’t take offense but that statement tells me how little you know about what you can do.” Nanites streamed from the suit, reinforcing the chair as Mark put his two-ton weight on it without a creak.

Martin looked warily at the chair. “What did you just do?”

“Changed the molecular complex of the chair and its structure to better handle my weight.”

“I had no idea you could do that.”

“Sir, I think it’s time I gave you an impromptu introduction to the body modification you received and the abilities of the Pluto-powered armor suit. You might want to record this.”

It took four hours, by which time three-quarters of Martin’s maniple were listening, with Phantoms intermingled also fielding questions and helping them to understand what Mark was saying.

“Shit, I had no idea.” Martin and the others were now using the net more frequently. They were still slow but at least they were using it. “I see what you mean about the medical sector trying to get some praise out of this thing. If we could use the medical technology from this in a Jupiter suit, then there would be a marked decrease in need for medicos. Do you have that information on the body modification still?”

“All stored in my memory banks.” Mark tapped his head. “Though I can’t release it. There has been a block placed upon it as it’s made by someone unqualified.”

“So it’ll never see the light of day?”

“Well, you say that but both me and Ava created it and, Ava, aren’t you a masters in kinesiology, nanite manipulation, general health, dentistry and, well, don’t want to be showing off now.”

“Ass. And yes, I am, in every major field. Working on minor fields. There’s some interesting stuff I think we could add to the body modification.”

“We have to get the first one understood first. But, Martin, you see, with the improved speed of our minds and the near instantaneous absorption of information, we have quite a few letters now attached to our names.”

“So you’re going to force it down their throats.”

“Hell yes. And then get you guys out of a lab and doing something worthwhile.”

“I look forward to that but I don’t think Senator Rimateus would like it.” Martin dropped them to a private channel. “It seems he’s doing everything he can to slow us getting to know these suits better.”

“That sounds decidedly bad. Sarah, could you look into that for me?”

“On it.”

“All right, Martin, I’ll see what I can do to get your people into some suits and doing some testing of your own.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Well, I’m going to get some coffee and then get to work on seeing what I can do about getting this report published.”

“I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed. Tell me if you need help.”

“Understood. Sarah, get me Charles.”

“Mark?”

“Hey Charles, so I was wondering if you could help me with a report.”

“I was wondering when you’d ask. I have the applications but there are only a few people on my team qualified. I see you and Ava are already making the medical sector confused.”

“Seems they haven’t seen people who can get honors apply and write their masters while they’re waiting to be accepted. Strange, seems they really didn’t read our report.”

“I shed a tear.”

“Liar.”

“Gomez has a few honors in the medical field, so I’ll have him back it and see if he can find some friends.”

“Thanks, Charles. We’ll keep working on our side. Ava, can you help me with micron biology?”

“Here’s my notes.”

“Thanks.”

“First one who finishes buys the other dinner.”

“All right, you’re on. What if we create a new area of study?”

“Bonus?”

“Sounds good.”

Chapter 39

SLS Moby

Roma, Hellenic system

4/3353

The senators took a tour of the ship a few times, seeing how the people of the Merger Initiative, or MI, were starting slowly working with the Phantoms, getting used to their bodies and their new abilities.

Several of the new MI had been unable to break away from merging. Sometimes they spat out information. The rest of the time, they were merged, part of the net, getting lost in the information it was nearly impossible to pull them away from it. At that point they usually turned into a vegetable from information overload on their minds or they started spouting incoherent information.

Mark promised himself to never let anyone make people merging capable without properly testing and explaining their new reality.

The things that they did give Mark, he made sure didn’t get into the wrong hands. Some of the ideas he hoped would never see the light of day.

Simulators were constantly being used, everyone trying to keep their skills sharp, work on projects, or train one another.  That time dilation was damn useful.

Others worked on the Moby. The crew was small and they welcomed any help to try to get the Moby’s systems operational.

Mark finally got a leave pass to see his goddaughter and Pullo’s wife. He brought a massive pink teddy bear, which his goddaughter, the bouncing ball of energy she was, absolutely loved. Pullo’s wife, Jules—from Andromeda, one of Earth’s colonies—was asked to come to Roma for her expertise on agriculture. She was constantly laughing at Mark’s stories of Pullo back when they were in the EMF. They went walking in the tower’s park; families milled around and kids played.

“What are you thinking of, Mark?” Jules asked as Taylor, his goddaughter, ran around, chasing butterflies.

“I must be doing something right, these kids can laugh and play freely. On Earth, no child ran around so freely, unless they were stealing or trying to get away from the orphanages. It’s good to see kids having fun.”

Taylor tripped over her pink teddy bear; she landed on it, patted it down and started running again.

The adults smiled at her antics. Jules rubbed his shoulder. “Yes, it is.”

Chapter 40

Sensor Outpost 17

Kahlsa, Emdari system

4/3353

Centurion Tuvio had been an intelligence officer for five years after transferring from being a sensor technician in the space legion. He was in charge of watching the sensor inputs and outputs in sector 314J. AIs scanned through billions of sensor readouts from pods deployed that could read for A-drives, gravity changes, communications, and more things than Tuvio could list. This made it easy to track where legion ships where if they were without communication, to see where Maraukian ships were moving, and what Earth and Her Colonies where doing.

At this moment, Tuvio was hunched over Evocatus Castillo. Her screen was flashing a violent red, forgotten as both of them looked at the sensor readout.

“Everyone shut the fuck up and listen,” Tuvio said. The room instantly became quiet. “Get me a direct line to command. Castillo, get five others to check the data—have the AIs run through it again. It’s about to get real busy real fucking fast.”

“Line to command but they don’t seem pleased.”

“Fuck ’em. Connect.”

“Hello…Centurion…”

Tuvio ignored how long it took the communications officer to find his name as he rolled right over him. “I’ve got a priority one alpha. Pass me up.”

“I need confirmation.”

“Overridden by emergency code one echo.”

“Passing you up.” The communication officer’s tone rapidly changed as he forced a connection to the district chief.

“What’s the meaning of this? I’m in a briefing.”

Tuvio looked to Castillo, who, with round eyes, nodded back. The AIs and the five others confirmed it.

“We have an emergence.”

“We have hundreds of thousands of legion ships emerging all of the time.”

“This wasn’t a human ship and sir, I’m in sector 314J—inner Earth colonies.”

“Shit. I’m connecting the inner systems officer.”

“What’s this that’s got you so rattled?”

“We have an emergence of Maraukian assault ships within the Gilese system.”

“You confirmed?”

“All of my AIs and six humans over the raw feeds. It’s real.”

“I’m going to connect you to the legates of the Ninth.” Tuvio said finally, inputting in emergency commands.

“How bad is it to wake me up for this?” A tired voice asked through the channel as soon as it connected.

Tuvio felt his throat dry up as his nerves played up, still he forged onwards and hoped that he said everything right.

“We have a Maraukian emergence in the Gilese system.”

Centurion Tuvio realized who he was talking to as he looked at the names of the three most powerful legates in the entire legion: Damus Horucki Versanti, Julio Melchor Alves, and Fabius Losa Varius. Commanders of the legion, armored legion, and space legion.

“Confirmed?”

“Yes, Legatus of the armored legion.”

“No need for titles, son. Shit has hit the fan too much for them now. All right, pump all of the information you can get out straight to us. We’ll redirect it to those who need it. Time since emergence?”

“Five minutes.”

“Outstanding job. Keep it going, Legate Tuvio. You’re now central intelligence officer for this.”

“Legate?”

“If you keep up as prescribed, I’ll make it official.”

“Yes, sir!” Tuvio said with new fire.

“Data as fast as you can. It’s time to wake the legions.”

Chapter 41

SLS Moby

Roma, Hellenic system

4/3353

Mark was watching his Phantoms intermingle with the other Elves as they fought off a Maraukian horde. Training was slow and painful but they’d been at it for a month and a half now. Those who had stayed were improving in leaps and bounds. There was still a way to go till they were able to be counted as Phantom Lords but at least now they weren’t show troops but actual legionnaires.

The world flashed red as Mark got a message.

“What’s wrong?” Ava asked, feeling Mark’s turmoil of emotions.

“There’s been a Maraukian emergence in Gilese system.” Mark broadcasted across the entire net as the world faded from view and everyone left the simulated battle.

Another message passed over his HUD seconds before the base’s AI repeated the same.

“All battle ready units are to report to assigned launch pads and shuttle bays.” It repeated over and over as Phantoms stepped into their suits and ran full diagnostics as they checked themselves over.

“All right, Phantoms, we’re moving out. The rest of you are to continue training. I’m going to make a double of myself in the program to guide you through it. I will connect to it when I can and if I see anyone slacking, there’ll be hell to pay. Look after yourselves.”

The MIs sent emotional feedback about continuing their training, annoyed they couldn’t do more.

Mark and the Phantoms took off on their ground-eating lope as they passed through the corridors to the armory.

“Ready packs along the wall ammunition cans. Rear weapon vault open. Mark, I have that surprise waiting in your packs. Three rounds only.”

“Thank you, Charles.” Mark ran through and slapped himself into a harness pod, which clamped onto his back while his M20s locked around his arms and his cuirass circled his abdomen, clamping to him. Checking everything was attached, he walked out; the harness cycled down with the next Phantoms cycling up as they ran into it.

Sarah used anti-grav to clamp high-density ammunition boxes onto every open area on Mark as he picked up four of the thirty-kilo boxes in his hands. He walked out of the room with ammo boxes making him look like a human blackberry on top of two boxy legs. Charles and his team still had trouble with just their packs keeping pace with the Phantoms as they boarded the shuttle. The weight skyrocketed.

“Goddamn.” The cargo master looked at the now familiar Phantoms. “Mark, can you get your people to drop the ammo boxes in the holds so you can fit in the harnesses as well as those packs?”

“On it.”

After a few minutes, the Phantoms were in position and moving toward the maglev launcher.

“On the ramp,” the shuttle commander said as the hatches cycled and sealed completely.

“Punching.”

The shuttle kicked, exceeding five gees momentarily before rapidly coming back to normal and they were clearing the atmosphere.

Mark looked at a map of the Roma system. It appeared as a hologram through his NIAI-manipulated eyes. It was as if a switch had been flicked. Shuttles were lifting from the planet in numbers Mark had never seen. Hundreds of thousands of them flew through the system, resupplying ships, moving supplies and ships. Legion and civilian were in the air but there was no way to tell them apart as they intermingled.

The massive shipyards of Roma were a swarm. Three-kilometer-long supply ships from all corners of Roma’s reach were flying directly for them. The standby armada made of the smallest and fastest of the Roma space legion’s ships were already moving toward the jump point to Limus and then Gilese. The follow-up armada were forming like some massive puzzle. Dreadnaughts and battlecruisers formed around carriers, with swarms of stealth ships around them or on the outer edges of the armadas.

Mark looked at the war machine which was the heart of Roma. It scared and excited him. Billions of legionnaires were now in transit across hundreds of solar systems. Supply ships carrying weaponry and armor were being transmitted to the outer rim and those who needed it badly, where soldiers were being pulled from. It seemed as though the part of the galaxy humans controlled was stirring.

The Moby came into view as they clamped to an exterior hatchway. It cycled, revealing first mate Carla Grenshaw. Mark fell through the zero gravity with ease; his boots came to land as he hit gravity at the other side of the hatch.

“First mate.”

“Mark, same rack as normal. Chen wanted me to say hello.”

“Thanks, Carla. We’ll get ourselves sorted out. Charles is with us, too. You might want to know.”

“Thanks for the prior warning.” She grinned and walked off to some other activity on the ship as the Phantoms passed their gear out of the shuttle and into the battleship before filing out and getting into their rooms.

Chen just finished a briefing as he moved toward the command deck in the center of the battleship on auto-pilot.

“Captain Chen, we have five more shuttle runs en route. Systems check out.”

“Goddamn, what would I do without you?”

“Probably try to canoe through space,” she said matter-of-factly, garnering some smiles from his crew—now all familiar faces—easing the strain behind them.

“All right, we’re the second battlegroup to arrive in Gilese system. Taelyon, plot accordingly. Travestki, I better have those weapons ready. Jenkins, make sure those drop-ships are ready to go. It’s going to be a hot one in Gilese. Ghent, how’re we running?”

“All green in engineering.”

“Good. Run those checks, people. Better to find a problem now—don’t know how we’ll be able to fix it later.”

“Captain, I have a message from Commander of Roma’s Legions.”

“Patch it through.”

Charles listened from his privacy bubble, meaning no one else could hear. He came out looking thoughtful and then shrugged.

Mark pulled up a message from the legate from the Ninth. Damus Versanti’s face appeared in front of him.

“Mark, the senate doesn’t know of your boarding of the Moby at this time. We’re going to be dropping into Gilese and I think you and yours can give us an advantage we sorely need against the towers of Gilese if the Maraukians take them. You can choose to go back to Roma if you choose.”

Mark bounced it to the other Phantoms, it took milliseconds to receive their answer. “We’ll go, sir.”

“Thank you, Mark,” Damus said, sounding relieved.

The channel cut as Mark’s HUD returned to normal. He looked at the drop-ship a few meters away they’d be dropping into Gilese on.

“Charles, do you remember that launch system?”

“Yes, why?”

Chapter 42

The Yard

Earth, Sol system

5/3353

Jerome swung through the scaffolding that surrounded the Alexis.

He threw himself toward the living quarters.

Some of the yard workers were securing gear. The ex-troopers were like a flock of gymnasts as they sped for shuttles and living quarters.

Ortiz had flashed a code yellow.

Report to stations, armed and armored.

Jerome got to a hangar with all of its tugs and shuttles grounded.

People wearing all kinds of stripes indicating their profession landed, activating their mag boots and taking off for the air locks.

Jerome stuffed in with five others. The air lock cycled quickly.

People moved quickly and professionally. They’d all trained quietly for this. Now that training was paying off as lockers were opened; fatigues and armor were pulled on. The machine shops moved fake walls out of the way, opening up armories and rolling racks of weapons out.

Jerome moved to his locker, dropping his work vest, helmet, and clothes into it. He pulled on his gray fatigues, the rank of major on his shoulder and Victor on his chest.

He pulled it on, sealing it and throwing armor on. It had been nearly four years since he’d put his armor plates on. He didn’t even need to think about it as he pulled straps tight and clipped buckles together.

He pulled his helmet out and onto his head, sealing it to his fatigues.

“Jerome, good to see you’re live,” Ortiz said.

“What’s going on?” Jerome asked.

“We just had reports of unknown craft entering the Gilese system. They are not ours, or any other corporations’.”

“Who the hell are they?” Jerome asked.

“No idea. Get your ass to the command center. I’m still in transit to Yard Two.”

“Moving.” Jerome grabbed his E12, checked it was functional, and took off at a jog toward the command center.

The command center was a horseshoe: view screens at the front, controllers around the sides. Command tables were to the right side; holographic projectors to the left with a big one in the center.

Navy to the left, troopers to the right and never with the two mix.

“Reports coming in from Dominguez. She’s slowly bringing the Westerly crew to their defensive positions. Keep watchers in the dark. Will take a few days,” Hughes said.

He’d been a sergeant at the citadel; he’d shown an aptitude and was a veteran of a number of battles but had still been passed over for promotions.

Jerome relaxed at Hughes’s unflappable expression. “Good. How are we looking on the transport side of things?” Jerome asked.

“The Alexis is nearing completion. We can rig her. We’ve got dozens of inter-system freighters. We can get her to alter her path if needed,” Hughes said.

His implants pinged with a message.

Fucking junk mail at a time like this! He dismissed it angrily.

“Continue the delivery. Bring Captain Hall up to readiness, though. Where is Yu and his transports?” Jerome asked.

“They’re moving on delivery between stations and Earth. Yu’s moving to the Westerly complex with his crew. They’re doing roll call and passing the word. It will take them up to a week to get all of their people mobilized,” Hughes said.

“Good. Keep it low-key. We don’t know the full extent of everything that is going on.” Jerome accessed the biggest command table and started looking at images of the new arrivals.

It looked like a mechanical flower—an octagonal prism with eight wedges stuck to it. It looked like a pencil that had been sharpened at both ends with odd bulges at the pointed ends and a floating rubber band around the center. It wasn’t pretty, signs of quick manufacture and assembly showing.

“Yes, sir. We’re also ready to send a message to the other subsidiaries if necessary,” Hughes said.

“Let them know. If this showed up in Gilese, then we don’t know where the hell else they’re going to show up.” Jerome looked at the sensor logs that showed the craft had simply appeared just a few weeks’ travel from Gilese Actual.

It had taken a few minutes, locked onto Gilese Actual and gone for it. There were two other inhabited planets. People had to use suits to live on them but they’d built underground cities like the ones Jerome had seen on Masoul.

Whoever was controlling the ship didn’t care about the crappier worlds.

Another message came in, this one from Dominguez.

>Go read the fucking junk mail.

>You owe me a tin of dip still.

I owe her a tin of dip? She doesn’t chew, though. It’s only Bobbie, Ortiz, Mark, and me.

Curious, Jerome went to his Junk Mail, opening the message he’d tossed away earlier.

>Listen up and listen quick. I don’t have much time or bandwidth for this shit and I’ll probably get my ass kicked out of the legion if anyone figures this out. So shut up and read. There will be time for answers later.

Jerome opened the attachment, getting annoyed with the messages. Holy shit. Jerome looked through the information. There were detailed diagrams of what he was seeing on the sensor logs, and what was in them.

“Hughes, my office.” Jerome sent Hughes the file and moved to the small conference room to the side of the room.

Hughes followed, his eyes unfocused as he looked at the new information.

Jerome locked the door and turned on a noise canceller. The two of them got close so they could hear each other.

“Where did this come from?” Hughes looked to Jerome with a confused expression.

“I have no idea, but I think they know me and they talked about something called ‘the legion.’ I don’t know what other option we have but to trust them. This information. We’ve got tactics, what the damned ships will do, even ideas on how they’re doing it. Weapons, unit make-up.” Jerome stopped looking through the information.

Hughes’s eyes widened. “Did you look at the last line of the last document?”

“What?” Jerome scrolled through it all, coming to the last line.

>I’m coming home. Heard I might have to add another two letters to my arm. Thing’s getting a bit crowded.

>22A21

Jerome had been part of a platoon called the Triple-Two’s. They infiltrated Masoul and Osdal, fought on Fernix and Earth. There were just five remaining people of the Triple-Two’s: Jerome, Dominguez, Yu, Young, and Bobbie.

One section—that was Mark’s section. Jerome’s eyebrows lowered in thought. His eyes started to widen in possibilities, but he stamped those thoughts out. If he allowed himself to hope now, then when it turned out to be wrong it would hurt all the more.

Even as he tried to stamp it out, he felt it growing in his gut.

“Who the hell is two-two-alpha-two-one?” Hughes asked.

“It’s the Triple-Two’s platoon, one section,” Jerome said.

“Who the hell would know that?”

“That is the million-credit question,” Jerome said. “See if Moretti can trace the source. In the meantime, I want all of the leaders getting this information. Say it’s the best we’ve been able to come up with and there was something in the Ministry’s records,” Jerome said, not knowing how else to tell them he’d got the information.

“Will do,” Hughes said.

“I have a meeting to attend with my grandmother-in-law,” Jerome said, collecting his sound canceller.

“Yes sir,” Hughes said. They left the conference room. Hughes got people moving as Jerome jogged to the offices, his implant tracking down Jane.

He barged in and she looked up in alarm.

“You could give an old lady a heart attack barging around like that!” Jane grabbed a cigarette packet and offered one to Jerome. He took it as she lit hers and tossed him the lighter.

“So what do you need?” She exhaled. The room smelled like strawberries.

Jerome pinched the area in front of his head and threw it at her table.

“What am I looking at?” She pushed slates and paperwork onto the floor.

“This is what we’re fighting. Somehow it made it into a few weeks’ flight of Gilese Actual.” Jerome pinched and sent another message. “This is the technical information we’ve been able to gather.”

Jane looked through the plans and information, muttering about engines, power output, different machining processes.

She, like Jerome and every other person who had come to command the Yard, had trained in every single profession. She wasn’t an expert in all of them, but she had a good idea about a few. She used both of her hands, cigarette hanging from her mouth, the stimulants in it waking her up.

“Well?” Jerome asked after a few minutes.

“Well, it looks like it’s about as cheaply made as the Earth Military Force’s carriers. Though this…” She turned an image, of a ring and bulbs on either end. “This is more advanced than anything else on those ships. The weapons I wouldn’t want to tangle with, or get within a few hundred thousand kilometers of. And their armor is decent, but the regular engines, power plants, holding areas and cryopods—they’re generations behind our own. It’s like they found what was the quickest to build and also functional, then slapped it together.”

“So what is it?” Jerome asked.

“If I was to guess, and I am, I’d say it’s an Alcubierre drive.” She looked at the image.

“The hell is that?”

“It basically displaces space around it, pushing the ship faster-than-light. Think of it like…” Jane waved her hands around in thought. “Like when you have your hand in water, you squeeze your hand together quickly and you shoot water forward. Or a wet bar of soap—squeeze it and it shoots forward. Kind of works like that.”

“Okay,” Jerome said, kind of getting the idea.

“While the science is complicated, these drives don’t look all that confusing.” Jane leaned forward, flipping the image back to her.

“That sounds like you have an idea,” Jerome said.

“Give me a few months. I might be able to pull something together.” Jane smiled and looked up at Jerome.

“All right, but don’t break anything. And I want your people to tell me where those things are weak. If we fight them, I want Hall to know how to break them.”

“Will do,” Jane said, not looking up from the images.

Jerome turned and left as she started sending messages to various department heads.

Chapter 43

SLS Moby

Roma, Hellenic system

5/3353

“That’s the last shuttle.”

“Thank you. Everyone green light?” Chen watched as the lights on the side of his screen changed from yellow to green.

“Carrier Intrepid, this is the battleship Moby. We are ready.”

“Understood. Wait out.” A few hours later, after settling down and finishing every diagnostic and check imaginable, the battlegroup’s net came alive. “All right. Battlegroup Gilese two, move out in formation assault four three.”

The ships moved, forming a half cylinder with its rear open and the sides closed, containing the carriers.

Dreadnaughts and battlecruisers made up the bulk of the cylinder, with stealth ships intermingled to lend their fire support and on the outer edges, ready to charge in where needed.

“Commence jump for Limus.”

The ships AIs were linked as they jumped, staying in perfect formation as they continued to accelerate across Limus system toward the Gilese jump point. Battlegroup Gilese one was a day ahead of them, pushing their engines to just below maximum.

Chen looked on the Limus system, one of the outer colonies of Earth, the space facilities and forces racing for the planet as they arrived. Messages from the EMF forces demanded to know who they were and the shock as they were greeted by a human face that said that the battlegroup was moving through, didn’t mean them any harm and was part of the Roma’s legions.

The crew settled down for the five-day transit. Gilese battlegroup one was able to make their jump on the third day. Information was still incoming from Gilese as the second wave had arrived of four Insertion barges, holding a total of forty-seven-million fresh Maraukians.

Halfway through the fourth day, Gilese battlegroup one finally came into contact with the Maraukians’ second battle transport group.

The Maraukian ships had thankfully landed farther out than the first armada, which raced to make contact and cut down as many Maraukians as possible. The battlegroup ripped through the group mercilessly but the estimated number of Maraukians was still in the tens of millions as their ships raced toward Gilese Actual, out of range for the ships as they regrouped and waited for the second Gilese battlegroup or the third wave of the Maraukian battle transports.

It was still a day till Chen and his second armada would make it to the jump point and then three more hours till they could get boots on the ground. Every minute counted and however much everyone wanted to rush the jump point as fast as their engines could take them, everyone held onto their training, keeping to the highest speed the cruiser was able to make.

Chapter 44

SLS Moby

Roma, Hellenic system

5/3353

Mark read his book as he waited, listening to heavy metal music as he tried to get his mind off what was about to happen.

“What do we have to expect on Gilese?” Ava asked.

Mark breathed slowly as memories of what felt like a lifetime ago flashed behind his eyes.

“Gilese was one of the first colonies. It has nearly three major cities, all accessible from the underground system. The outside’s a little too bright, so it was easier to stick everything underground. The cities sprout out above the ground in a circular fashion, the biggest buildings in the middle, getting smaller as they spread out. They create rings around the center until they get to a hundred levels high. Then most of the city is underground mining resources and transporting between the cities. Each apartment building has a bunker underneath it. They have rations and food for four months. The only way to open them is with an Earth Military Force code or if the people inside open it for you. No citizen is allowed a weapon. The most they’ll have is melee weapons, unless they take some construction equipment that could function as turrets and guns. Though I doubt it—it’s too fast and quick for many to be armed like that.”

“Hopefully they use those bunkers.”

“They should—that’s the first reaction when they’re under attack. At least it should be.”

“Didn’t think of that.”

“I’m trying not to. I hope we have something planned for this.”

Mark watched as they transited from Roma’s system to Gilese, this time with none of the wonder and interest as before. The ship’s information was updated by a nearby buoy, showing a third fleet of battle transports behind the second Gilese battlegroup already halfway in-system.

“Legionnaires, load.”

Mark and the Phantoms rushed the air lock, swinging through it with ease as they landed inside the drop hangars with the drop-ships overhead. Mark was running over the specs of Charles’s present as he opened his helmet; he pulled a tin from his nanite layer and packed a lip before putting it back and replacing his helmet. It was great not having to worry about the effects of cancer anymore. The legion had solved it decades ago, meaning Mark could smoke and dip with a clear conscience now. Hell, there were even healthy brands that gave people vitamins. Plus his nanite layer ate all of the spit; it was near impossible to smoke a cigarette and it made the helmet smell like shit for a few days.

The Phantoms dropped their ammo, putting it together with other supplies they’d brought and creating drop pallets out of them. Other legionnaires jogged in, locking themselves into loading crates. The Phantoms, done, loaded themselves and the pallets into tubes facing outward of the carrier’s air locks, locking them in, the worst place for someone with claustrophobia ever. But the HUD made it look bigger as they shot the shit through the net.

Mark could feel the excitement, the nervousness, and determination that had gotten them to this point. Mark went into the carrier’s computer systems to read the plans for the flight route and the drop plan. He passed it onto the other centurions on the ships as he started to make a plan with the other Phantom decani. They dialed into the communications net, leaving it open to the Phantoms.

For the first time in two and a half centuries, a Roman legionnaire talked to humans from their home world openly.

“My name is Damus Versanti. I command Roma’s legions.” He waited for a few seconds to let that little fact set in before he continued.

“What you face today is a race called the Maraukians. We have fought these aliens for several hundred years in silence, keeping the human race safe. For the first time, they’ve broken through our buffer zone. So, we’ve come to help you people of Gilese system. Please get to your bunkers if you haven’t already done so. Do not attack our people or you will be detained. EMF forces, please also move into the bunkers. Thank you.”

“And the veil was lifted,” Chyna said.

It was a few minutes before anyone started talking or moving. All of them knew a new chapter of their lives and humanity had just been opened.

Chapter 45

Tower

Earth, Sol system

5/3353

Nivad Selvra sat in his office. Wallace and Dalia sat in the seats in front of him. All across the walls, his view screens showed information coming from Gilese and the results it was having on the EHC.

Wallace and Dalia looked haggard, but Nivad was as flawless as ever. It was as though the events that were happening around him didn’t touch him.

We live in interesting times, Nivad thought, neither pleased nor annoyed, just interested. He wasn’t motivated by fickle human emotions. No, he was motivated by playing the game. Making the rest of humanity think he was somehow similar to them.

“So what do we know?” Nivad asked.

“Basically, only what their leader has told us. They still haven’t shown themselves and we won’t know more until they do. We can’t even try to guess their abilities,” Dalia said.

“Though we might know something of their past,” Wallace said.

Nivad and Dalia looked to the man.

“I went through the history logs and looked for any mention of the legion. I was already looking at them, trying to figure out what made the EMF expand so rapidly seven hundred years ago. It was these guys.” Wallace gestured at a wall that was showing one of the Maraukians.

Nivad waved for the man to go on.

“About eight hundred years ago, we started picking up signals from a planet. The weird thing was they were speaking in a language we could understand. They were speaking in Latin.” Wallace looked to them both.

“The language of the Romans,” Nivad said. He’d learned everything he could on Rome, the possible predecessor of Roma. Any information might be useful.

“Correct. The corporations wanted to check it out—we sent the EMF. They were to go to the system, see what was there; if there were people, they were to establish contact. They got to the system, found people and started integrating.

“They got to know the people of Roma really well. The corporations had a windfall situation—a group of people who had no contact with Earth and Her Colonies. How could they cry ‘unsafe working conditions’ if they didn’t know about one another? They were about to start shipping equipment to turn Roma into an enslaved colony when this happened.”

A low-quality video showed a harsh planet with deep-red stone and random brilliant colored plants. The video taker was sitting on a wall with a machine gun.

“Here they come!” someone yelled. The camera guy checked their gun.

“Fire!” Tracers and weapons fired across a defensive fortification. They tore into what looked like a sea of gray.

Weapons fired back; plasma and rail cannons tore into the line.

Nivad knew what he was seeing now: a Maraukian charge. They moved on all six limbs at incredible speeds. The weapons on their back tracked and cut into the defenders.

The Maraukians were slowed by the weapons fire but it wasn’t enough. They covered the ground in a matter of minutes. The video paused as the Maraukian lunged at the trooper.

“The troopers had found a home among the people of Roma. They rebelled against their leaders, gutted carriers of corporate types and cut the feeds. We never heard anything else from them. The EMF grew in response. After two heads of the EMF, they forgot their mandates to make better weapons and be prepared for the Maraukians. Instead, they went back to their corporate game. By the time you took office, there was little proof the Maraukians or the legion ever existed.” Wallace sent another command and another image showed. This one of the same planet from the video, with a man holding a golden eagle aloft; people were in modern armor, but the same color pattern as what Nivad had read about in Rome’s legions.

“We know that they’re real, both parties, and we know there were troopers who fought with them.” Nivad tapped his desk.

“We are thinking their technology is more advanced, looking at how they were able to keep their presence a secret,” Dalia said.

“I also didn’t find this data until after the legion had announced their presence.” Wallace looked to them both.

“So our computer and data systems might be hacked by them?” Nivad asked.

“Precisely,” Dalia said.

“All missions of importance will be done on a need-to-know basis with handwritten notes, and noise cancellers. We need to hold an edge on these people—it’s going to be difficult,” Nivad said.

New handicaps but this is still my game. Will make things more eventful.

“The corporations are getting adventurous,” Dalia warned.

“Make sure that they stop being adventurous. Have the security contractors in our pocket and get the troopers on roving patrols of Mega City,” Nivad said.

“What about the colonies? What if we can’t defend them? Then people are going to start questioning us,” Wallace said.

“Well, we’re going to have to think quick on how to solve that issue, or think about how we can find ourselves useful to this legion.” Nivad looked to them both.

“You mean leaving the Ministry of Intelligence?” Dalia asked. Not even she could hide her shock. The Ministry of Intelligence commanded Earth and Her Colonies. Giving that up—it was a hard thought.

Emotions, emotions, my dear. What would I be trying to hold onto if it all starts coming apart?

“The EHC might fall apart and crumble. We do not know what the future holds. Wallace, I want a ship stocked and ready to leave at a moments’ notice. I will leave the cost at your discretion. I want you to also find out what the legion trade—going to need some capital to start. Dalia, I want you to look at long-term projections—what does this mean for the corporations? How can we use that?” Nivad caught their looks. They would do their jobs but they didn’t want to give up what they had.

“It is only a precautionary measure. I do not want to leave my position here, but think. If Roma is more powerful, then we will be second-rate at best, maybe way down the ladder in power if there are other planets. We did not come this far to be second-rate at best.” Nivad looked to them.

They nodded, understanding. Once they got past their first knee-jerk reactions, then they could see what he meant. If the EHC was dying, then it was better to get away from it than stay in the middle of the chaos.

“In the meantime, start moving the limbo carriers to the closest colonies. Best to have them on hand if these Maraukians show up in another system,” Nivad said.

“Yes, sir,” Dalia said, about to make a note on her surface but putting it down.

“Using paper is going to suck.” Wallace stood and straightened his suit.

Not as much as what is about to come if those troopers can’t stop the Maraukians, or the legion decides they don’t want to protect us.

Chapter 46

Red Dust Bar

Earth, Sol system

6/3353

“So what’s going on, M?” Ortiz asked.

He’d quietly made his way back to Earth. Dominguez had the Westerly crew training up all across the slums. Troopers and ex-officers were happily getting the Westerly crew into trooper condition.

They’d been given decent training to start, but nothing like the concentrated push they were getting thrown through.

Once they were finished, Ortiz would trust any of them to watch his back. If it was official or not, they’d be troopers.

“There are aliens and they seem to like nothing more than killing people. Anyone who was caught outside of the colony tower’s cryobunkers and were close to these Maraukian landing zones were cut down.”

Ortiz looked at the man he knew as Moretti. The emphasis on the last two words made his eyes thin.

“These Maraukians don’t care who is in their way—they’ll cut them down. They’ve got weaponry better than ours. They can take a shitload of punishment. People are lying, saying our guns are better and an E12 would penetrate their innards better. Screamer missiles, maybe. Our other weapons, junk. This legion, they’re pretty much our only hope.” Moretti took a long drink from his beer.

Ortiz nodded and sat back, feeling a mantle he thought he’d put down fall back onto his shoulders.

He’d been a general of the Earth Military Force. He was the only man in recorded trooper history to climb from private to general. Even then, it hadn’t lasted as Nivad Selvra made sure he was released from service.

Nivad needed a soldier’s leader during the Harmony War. Now he needed pliable corporation figures to keep Earth and Her Colonies in check.

Something which was going to be thrown right out the window, if the legion’s governing body gave colonies the ability to leave their corporation masters in the dust.

Things are going to get messy really quick.

“You don’t seem shocked,” Moretti said.

“Guess that’s what I get for talking to a spy,” Ortiz complained.

Moretti smiled. They’d shared a history and were good friends for many years now.

“I know about the legion. At one time, they wanted me to join their ranks. Nerva was one of them. He was a recruiter. He didn’t go into much detail, but he said the battles we were fighting in the EHC were idiotic and wasteful. Makes sense now. He was talking about how we should be fighting the Maraukians instead.” Ortiz grabbed his beer and drank from it.

“Nerva was in the legion?” Moretti leaned forward. The man was a sucker for information.

“Yeah. They hired troopers, made it look like you were dead, picked you up and gave you a new life. Sounded good. I was thinking of doing it until Masoul happened. Couldn’t leave my people in the wind with that shit show going on.”

“We’ve got to assume they know everything about us,” Moretti said. “If they were capable of running this operation, they’ve got to have some impressive resources. We’ve seen glimpses of their ships. They’ve got some kind of drive which allows them to go faster-than-light and they’re proper warships. Not the economic junkers we have flying around. We had no idea where they came from or anything about them.” Moretti held Ortiz’s eyes with meaning.

Nivad didn’t know anything about this—shit. That’s got to be messy.

There was no knowing what Nivad might do to secure his power base. It seemed that all of the threads were coming apart piece by piece. Ortiz wondered how long it would be before a thread was pulled out and the whole thing tumbled apart.

When something as big as Earth and Her Colonies starts coming apart, it doesn’t do it quietly.

“Who’s running this thing from the EMF side?” Ortiz asked.

“Jones. Seems that he’s painted himself as some kind of brilliant military genius. Unfortunately, it seems he’s been busy and made the right connections, so Nivad can’t bring in someone who might know how to actually run a military.” Moretti hid his wolfish smile behind his glass.

“That is unfortunate.” Ortiz laughed, drinking as well.

Chapter 47

SLS Moby

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

7/3353

As Mark listened, he watched the cylinder of ships expand more, orientating itself toward Gilese, with the carriers and battleships lining up for their drop.

“Two hours to go, people. Relax and wait out.” Mark changed his view to the sensor data running around the system to get a clearer image of the space battle happening between the first armada of stealth ships and destroyers against the third wave.

The legion had struck first, with stealth ships sent ghosting toward the Maraukians. The sensors for Maraukians were great but not enough to see the three hundred stealth ships running on ballistic. The stealth ships had picked their targets well and let go with their main cannons, missiles, and everything they could throw in their first barrage. They quickly turned away as the Maraukian battlegroups split into assault and control barges, the latter turning back toward the jump point. The faces of the quadrahedral Insertion Barges fired their plasma cannons and coilguns at the stealth ships now turning to take on the control barges.

The destroyer missiles they’d launched with the stealth ships activated their third drives, smashing into the splitting assault ships, driving into the center and causing assault barrages to sympathetically explode or run into a field of debris, destroying more or severely damaging them.

The destroyers fired with their rail guns, waiting till they were within knife-fighting range, expending all of their remaining missiles in seconds. It was bloody closing with the Maraukians before firing their missiles to cover the Maraukians’ sensors and a wall of debris. Two-thirds of the ships were destroyed or sent drifting; the last third took minor damage and split off to gather the scattered and now broken forces.

There had been six Insertion Barges. Each held nearly twelve million Maraukians. Even after the battering the battlecruisers and stealth ships had given, they’d only killed two or three million out of the seventy-two million Maraukians headed for Gilese Actual. Not without casualties, too; a hundred and twenty stealth ships were either dead or too broken to be used again. Of the hundred and fifty battle cruisers, only sixty could move themselves; twenty were dead in space and seventy ships weren’t making it back. But there were a lot of life pods, which made Mark hopeful as he turned toward the sixty-nine-million-strong Maraukian force charging toward Gilese Actual. Some were already entering atmosphere and the last assault barge would be down in an hour.

The cylinder expanded to move around Gilese and toward the oncoming scattered Maraukian wave. Carriers and battleships hit the outer atmosphere as drop doors opened and drop-ships lived up to their name, gliding from space and through the atmosphere.

“Punching,” Mark said.

Everyone in the tubes straightened as the outer air lock opened and they found themselves hurled out of a missile port.

“Wooo hoooo! That’s a fucking ride!” Evan said as the Phantoms and their equipment raced alongside drop-ships. A couple waved at the pilots, who watched in horror as the Phantoms spun through the atmosphere around them and the Badger or a Bellona tank they carried.

Plasma cannon fire reached up from the ground, coupled with heavy coilgun fire, as drop-ships were hit. Mark saw as three Phantoms where hit by random fire. One was gone, the other two injured badly as their suits put them to sleep and their NIAIs took over.

“Sarah, connect me to EMF sensor relays, code 1AE3942.”

“I’m in. Information coming up.”

“Pass higher.”

“Done.”

“Closest, highest concentrated area of Maraukians?”

“City of Remorse.” The city was highlighted in his HUD.

“Overlay underground system.” Mark changed his trajectory, the Phantoms with him. “Deploy drop chute.”

The black boxes they’d placed on their feet spat out carbon tubules as nanites spread in between, making a shell around each Phantom as they plummeted feet first toward Gilese Actual. The layers of nanites were stripped away as they were buffeted through the atmosphere at Mach eleven. Four hundred feet from the ground, the anti-grav system kicked in, pulling enough gravities to kill a human as it brought them to a hover above the ground. The carbon tubules and the black boxes on their feet fell apart as they scanned the area, well before the drop-ships coming in.

“Underground system.” Mark passed information on as he raced off, securing the entry point. One kick opened the stubborn door as they dropped into the maglev train system. Mark felt the want to merge as they ran at their ground-eating lope toward the city five kilometers away.

Sarah put them with the 125th and 354th. They had two Bellona at their disposal and were about to hit the ground and charge the city.

“Who is this on our net?” the centurion of the 354th asked.

“Phantom Lords assault group. Sir, I ask you hold your people before we secure the city.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are but I’m not sure I can secure the city with what I’ve got.”

“Sir, have you heard of the new record on the simulators?”

“Yeah, that group which ripped a live sim apart and didn’t take a casualty. Why?”

“Happy to meet your acquaintance.”

“This isn’t some sim.”

“I know that. Look, I can get in the city and if me and my people die at least we can get you some information of their positions—you don’t lose anything.”

“You’re willing to bet all of your people’s lives?”

“They all are—I put you on our general net.”

The centurion took a few seconds to check what he was being told was true. “All right, we’ll hold.”

“Thank you, Centurion.”

Mark directed the Phantom Lords. “All right, we’re here. Split into contuberniums and clear the towers inward out to force them into our people, if anything.”

Mark’s HUD lit green as he pulled a mono-blade from his back and another attached to mono-wire.

The city was set up in rings, as all colonial worlds were. The center building was the government and military headquarters, with businesses moving to residential towers farther out. The underground transport system mimicked the surface, with two lines crossing underneath the central tower and then stopping at the sub-lines that went to the other towers. Then the main lines would reach the long-distance transports, which would send and receive materials and people from other cities.

Mark and his second contubernium led by Evocatus Seloa went straight to the center underneath the main tower as the others split up to the second ring’s towers.

“All right—there.”

“Gotcha,” Seloa responded. The rest of the eight-man group spread out as they made their way up the lifts that took them past the bunkers and into the tower.

Ten Maraukians turned as Mark appeared. He hit the back of the lift, diving forward as his mono-wire whipped out. It came across the Maraukians’ heads as the air above him filled with superheated plasma and 6mm coilgun rounds.

Zoe jumped right as Phoibe jumped left. Phoibe caught a round in his leg; quick thinking and a mono-blade cut off his leg before the round got to his central cavity and turned him into red mush.

Mark stopped holding his merge back as he stood, breathing. He felt his body come alive, humming with information and combat chemicals.

Zoe checked on Phoibe. The round had destroyed most of the leg but the armor was still functional as they re-attached it and the nanites went on to repair the limb. Phoibe’s nerves were cut off so he couldn’t tell the difference as they, too, merged, interlinked, as Maraukians appeared around the corner ahead of the lift leading into the open central area of the tower. Mark and Zoe whipped out their mono-wire as Phoibe’s hands blurred mono-blades across his body and, being formed from the high-density blocks, thudded into the Maraukians, going clean through even their armored chests as they dropped lifelessly.

Mark and Zoe threw their wire into the wall, through the corridor and across the open area. It stuck into the wall. They grabbed Phoibe by each side; their winches activated and pulled them through the hallway fast enough to crush the third group of Maraukians that appeared at the entrance of the corridor. Mono-blades flashed, killing anything not dealt with by their own bodies.

Sarah flashed the outlay of the building through Mark’s HUD as well as the Maraukians in the building, overlaying that with what he saw.

“Floor by floor. Seloa, we’ll take south side.”

“Seen.” Blue dots for the fireteams as they broke up took position on the other four sides of the tower.

“Execute.”

The teams moved up the stairs. The sensors showed Maraukians tearing apart the buildings, eating the plants naturally and then stuffing their feeders strapped to their necks with anything else, either eating it or regurgitating it. That which was regurgitated, they gathered in piles. Mark smashed through a plasta-wall; his dual mono-blades sliced through the back of one Maraukian as the other took the head off of its friend. He swept low, taking the next fours’ legs off. His left flicked back, catching them across the chests and faces, ripping vital organs and brains in a spray of blue. He tossed his sword up, throwing it like a javelin at the herd commander. Four mono-darts followed the javelin, killing the heavies closest to it. Mark dove, grabbing his blade and pinning the ton-and-a-half commander to the wall.

Zoe and Phoibe had come around the corner. Their M20s made short work of the now enraged, leaderless Maraukians staring at where Mark was, oblivious of the carnage behind them until osmium bolts ripped them apart. Mark dove backward underneath their streams of osmium rounds and the coilgun rounds a few Maraukians had been able to get off.

“That seems to have gotten their attention. Stairwells.”

“Lifts are disabled,” Sarah said over the contubernium’s net as Mark checked the advance of the other Phantoms. There were some with little to no resistance and some which had stumbled on what appeared to be nests of the damned bastards, with up to three commanders in the tower. Forces that were wandering through the city were moving to the towers under attack now.

“All Phantoms—watch your asses,” Mark said over the net. “Come to Mark, fuckers,” he muttered as the first Maraukian head turned to blue paste.

Mark watched the lifts as a few dozen Maraukians walked straight into them, finding out too late that the capsules that were supposed to be there had disappeared and the power was off, plummeting to their deaths. He could swear he could hear the wet thwaps as Maraukians met cermite.

“Moving up.” His M20s covered everything in the stairwell as he walked his fire up, turning the corner and catching a fresh press of Maraukians straight on. His boots clamped to the ground, crushing the bodies underneath him as they fired miniature spikes into the ground to keep him in place and not slip on the liquids flowing down the stairs.

“Housecleaning is NOT going to be happy,” Dodger said over the net to the grim laughs of the Phantoms.

Mark chuckled. “All right, let’s clear the second floor and set up there.”

Those with less resistance pushed to the second floor, firing into the floor and the stairwells at the same time before working their way to the next stairwell. Zoe cut through the Maraukians in front of Mark, who rushed through the door. His M20 changed to launchers as he fired at Zoe’s door, killing any of the Maraukians that had gotten to the doorway and holding the rest at bay with timed explosives. Mark did the same with his own door, his arms stretched outward to cover both.

Finally the contubernium had cleared up to the second floor, taking firing positions to fire into the stairwells. Mark concentrated on his own stairwell as he looked at the herd charging up into the tower. The herds that had been in the cities now rushed into the towers being attacked. Mark exhaled in a hiss as a Phantom was overpowered by the number of Maraukians. Vibro-blades ripped him apart; the others felt his sadness, pain, and confusion before his link was gone.

“Shutting blast doors.” Sarah dropped the massive doors that covered the ground and first floor, which would take a day for a plasma cannon to get through. They didn’t need days.

“One express elevator up.” Mark watched as all of the Phantoms got close to the windows, firing their last rounds. They jumped backward and out into the sky. Anti-grav kicked in as they shot to the top of the tower. Their boots clamped into the ground hard. The wind—at four kilometers in the air—was enough to send them flying if they weren’t careful. They moved to the armored skylight above the open area that went to the bottom of the tower. They attached mono-lines, loading extra blocks as they took their mono-blades and cut holes in the skylight.

“Shutting stairway doors.”

“Let’s get this done.” With the lifts not working and the stairwells now locked, there was nowhere for the Maraukians to go but wait on their floors. Some commanders tried to open the stairwell doors with plasma cannons, which incinerated those inside and set off a chain reaction with the power supplies of other herd commanders in the stairwell, culminating in a fireball that blew out every stairwell door and killed anything around it in three hundred meters, making the stairwell a smoking ruin.

The commander survived his stupidity but the normals of the herd commanders he’d killed tore him apart.

The Phantoms dropped from the skylight. Their M20s belched anti-matter rounds as they coated the floors in explosives, killing everything in them before they moved onto the next floor and repeated the process.

“Shit! Shots from the bottom floor!” Jarek said. Rounds whistled around them, one of the Phantom Lords didn’t even have time to scream as their suit was hit. The round entering through their leg armor and ricocheted around, their life signs dead as the round ricocheted inside.

All of the Phantoms stopped their descent and opened up a hell storm on the Maraukians below before moving on. Anger and loss passed between the Phantoms faster than the blink of an eye as they continued their descent.

Chapter 48

Citadel

Earth, Sol system

7/3353

General Jones rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know the last time he’d been this tired. He’d never been up for two days straight. That was something for the troopers to do.

He was a general: people of his standing didn’t slave over plans and information.

With the Maraukians, things had changed. Everyone, even the corporation-playing officers, were at the Citadel, trying to piece together a plan from the massive amount of data and information coming from Gilese.

A fleet, bigger than anything anyone had seen, appeared out of nowhere, just a few days’ travel from Gilese Actual, and started attacking the Maraukian ships that were still working their way to Gilese Actual.

The fleet had cut down a few of their barges, but the majority had made it to the ground. The legion had released ships, like the troopers’ own combat shuttles. They’d disgorged legionnaires into colony cities. The legionnaires had built defenses around the cities and dug in.

The cities closest to the Maraukian landing zones were left alone.

“They could’ve just shot the bastards with orbital strikes,” an aide argued.

“Maybe. These guys seem to have fought the Maraukians before. Maybe orbitals won’t work?” another said.

“Why not? Nothing can withstand that!” the first yelled back.

There was a tension in the air. More than one fight had broken out. These people were used to parties and political positioning, not making military plans and not sleeping.

Jones looked to the carriers in limbo, a state where only the vital crew were kept awake while the troopers and rest were left in cryostasis, waiting to be awakened for a new mission.

The closest was five years away from Gilese. Too long to be of much use.

Currently, all carriers were activated and moving to the closest systems, ready to defend the EHC’s territory—whether from this group calling themselves Roma’s legions, or the gray apes.

Chapter 49

Nonmetal City

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

7/3353

Centurion Flavius Octavius of the 354th looked at the city through his helmet’s highest magnification. The explosions that had moved through the towers had stopped a few minutes ago.

“Sensors showing three unidentified objects moving toward us at rapid speeds. We also have reports of Maraukian forces moving from their landing points toward us in every direction.”

“Lovely. How long till the three objects reach us?”

“Less than a minute.”

He turned to see a shimmer only noticeable because of the dirt plume behind them. Their IFFs flashed friendly.

“Watch them to make sure. We don’t want surprises.”

He walked forward. The other century’s centurion stayed back in case he was killed.

The shimmers stopped moving and came up in front of Flavius.

“The city is secure. I suggest we move in quickly and create defenses for the oncoming Maraukians.”

“You would be?”

“Centurion Mark Victor. We talked.” The shimmering disappeared as a black suit of armor stood in front of him, tall enough to make him turn his head at an awkward angle. The other two suits did the same, shorter than the first but still as big proportionally.

“All right.”

“Everyone get loaded on the Bellona. We’re rolling in. The city has been cleared.”

They followed the three other suits which sat on the lead tank as it drove on. Flavius had his men disembark before they entered the city just in case. The three suits shrugged as they moved in; another suit appeared and dropped its shimmer, which made it appear like a piece of rubble. When they got past the second ring, it was obvious from the Maraukians lying on the ground, having been tossed from the buildings, that anything Maraukian was dead.

“Welcome to the city Remorse. Looks to be home for the next little while,” Flavius said. “Break up in fireteams and check the buildings, outer circle in. Make sure everyone’s in their bunker and get me a clear scan of everything.”

“I dispatched my people to make sure everyone’s in their bunkers so we don’t have to worry about civilian casualties.”

“All right, belay that.”

“Here’s our sensor information. I have Phantoms all over the outer rim to give us a clear feed from all approaches.” The two other Phantoms dropped off the tank, moving in the same ground-eating lope as before and disappearing off somewhere.

“Now I know why they didn’t give us two maniples.” The centurion for the 125th shook his helmet as little as it would allow him.

“I suggest we deploy into the towers as much as possible,” Mark said. A holographic image of the city, including the Phantoms’ scans, appeared between them. “I don’t like how open we’re going to be, plus we need to get the Bellona inside to give us fire support.”

Mark took off his helmet and scratched his head as he retrieved a cigar. He lit it from his fingertip lighter as he looked at the surrounding buildings. “I have an idea. It ain’t going to be pretty, though.” He sketched it out briefly. The other centurions looked a little apprehensive as the holograph changed.

“Put down the swords and weapons and step out of the armored vehicle, or we will fire,” a captain from the insignia said through his unit’s speakers at Mark.

“We’re here to help,” Mark said through his own speakers. The legionnaires tensed. It was obvious the firepower from the legionnaires would kill the company’s worth of soldiers who were now appearing in the closest tower. Obviously, someone knew what they were doing. Mark mentally kicked himself for not having monitored the bunkers and told Sarah to do so.

“I don’t care what you say, bitch. This is our city and we will not have you destroying it for fun.”

“Well, we’re about to drop a lot more of it. We’re creating defenses.”

“Since when does that mean you need to destroy a city?”

“Because we’re fighting Maraukians.”

“Ah, yes, Maraukians—an enemy we haven’t even seen. Convenient, that.”

“I don’t have time to have a fucking dick measuring contest. Help or fuck off,” Mark growled.

“I am a captain of the Gilese security force here! I will not have some miscreant talk down to me.”

“Ah, yes, Captain Jeremy Lindst. Calls home the Andromeda system, originally a spacer in the asteroid belt.”

“How do you know that?”

“Do you want me to recite your personal information? I have it all here, Captain.”

“You are all under arrest. Place your weapons down and raise your hands above your heads.” The captain tried to regain control of the conversation.

“Sarah.”

“Fragging.”

The captain’s plates locked up as he fell backward.

“Now,” Mark brought himself to parade rest, with his arms at his side, unable to go behind him, “I believe you have a warrant among you.” No one stepped forward but Mark could see from the chatter the warrant was already in charge.

“Okay, so we have a few options here. First, you interfere with our work and we have to babysit your asses. Second, you let us get on with your job, help us or not, and we can get rid of these freaking Maraukians as quickly as possible and we can all go home.”

A few seconds later, a grizzled warrant officer pulled off his visor, his weapon at his side. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Mark, who accepted it and allowed the warrant to light it. “Well, how can we help? Because I saw those ships and the corpses—those definitely weren’t human. Better to deal with what we know compared to what we don’t.”

Mark grinned and took a drag of his cigarette. “Now that’s something I can agree with.” He offered his hand. “The name’s Mark.”

The man took it. “Tobias. Now, how can we help you?”

“Better to talk to these two gentlemen here. I’m off to redesign Remorse.”

“Never liked it much anyway.” The warrant spit and moved the cigarette to the side of his mouth. A holoprojector was brought forward and the centurions discussed what they wanted to do as the Bellona moved onward, the legionnaires dispersing around the city. Mark finished the cigarette, tossing it, and rolled the dip in his mouth.

“Twice the flavor.” He spit before he replaced his helmet and grabbed his swords.

Chapter 50

Nonmetal City

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

7/3353

Ava swung her mono-blade again, finishing her cut as she looked at the status of her people. They’d been at it for an hour; in another, the Maraukians would be upon them.

Mikael Freusht opened a channel. “All done here, ma’am.” The ground began to shake as the Phantoms took to the air.

“All right, let’s get into position and time to wait.” She changed to the decanus net. “All right boys, we’re ready.”

“All right, pull back to the alley. Jarek, Dodger, Chyna?”

“All’s good here, boss.”

“Same, Mark.”

“We’ll make them pay for every foot they’ve come.”

“So we shall, Chyna, and then some.”

Chapter 51

Nonmetal City

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

7/3353

“Ready?” Mark asked as he watched five assault barges’ worth of Maraukians thunder down the single entrance into the city.

Green lights lit up his HUD as everyone reported back. Mark looked at the Bellona tank’s turrets peeking out from behind rubble and the EMFs, whose faces had gone white looking at the six-limbed grey monkeys hurtling at them.

Just a bit more. Mark waited as the firing line stayed quiet as the Maraukians passed their buildings, ten meters from the wall of rubble that stopped them.

“Bellona!”

The tanks replied with their cannons, causing their entire bulks to shift. Dust clouds rose around them. A wall of flechettes ended in the predicted blue bloodbath, thousands being cut down in their first volley.

“Phantoms.”

The walls came alight with silver fire as M20s opened up. The Maraukians drove into the now cleared area in front of them, charging to reach their unseen enemy.

“EMF, 125th, 354th.”

Heads appeared in the rubble in front of the Bellona and barrels as heavy emplaced machine guns came online, the electric whine of the EMF’s repulsors, a box-fed chemical backed weapon able to spit rounds at a terrifying 100,000 rounds per minute.

Mark grinned at the sheer firepower.

“EMF, regulate repulsors. Phantoms, pull back.”

The repulsors changed to their lowest settings, combing the area as Phantoms pulled back and blocked their exits, changing their vantage points.

A legionnaire’s round pierced the power containment module of an overeager herd commander, making a two-hundred-meter crater.

“The fuck are these things?” the warrant said. “They’re still pressing on.”

“It’s complicated,” Mark replied. “Bellona?”

“Ready on you, sir.”

“All right. Cease fire. Lower weapons.”

The EMF and legionnaires dropped as fast as possible. The Maraukians pressed forward, commanders dropping to the rear. Their herds’ elites rushed ahead of them as they raced up what had been a tower toward the forces.

“Clear and ready on, Bellona.”

“Let them have it, boys.”

“Chyna, Jarek—ready?”

“You bet. They’re all inside the kill zone.”

“Hold them in it.”

The Bellona blast zone, now cleared of troops, fired again, this time its defense turrets coming online too as auto-mortars, heavy rail guns, and lasers fired into the Maraukians. In one second, they were within a hundred meters of the crest of the created hill; the next, everything was cleared for half a kilometer—pock marks on the ground and the walls marking where power modules had given way, their explosions background noise to the Bellona.

The Bellona fired their second and third rounds, clearing to the bend in the kill zone. The Maraukians behind the bend did not know what to expect till they came around the corner, dying as fast as they came, legionnaire sharpshooters or the Bellona killing them.

“Jarek, Chyna—move in.”

Jarek and Chyna jumped over the walls on opposite sides of the kilometer-wide kill zone. Their contuberniums lined behind them as they turned the corner; the contuberniums linking together as they created a line of fire and walked forward into the stunned Maraukians. They recovered from the stun, turning their forces being torn between charging into the unknown threat or into the walking death.

Mark wished he was with his people as they walked forward into what was truly a valley of death.

“Though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil as I am the baddest mother fucker in the valley,” Mark said, remembering an old mantra from an old Earth military that had transformed into the EMF landing forces.

“Dig in!” Chyna dropped a cratering charge in front of him. Across the line, they did the same as dirt was thrown into the sky, creating holes deep enough for a Phantom to duck under. They jumped in them; two suits were unlucky, catching rounds. The now dense mass of the Maraukians pressed toward them in more numbers than they could kill.

Wendel, the damned fireplug, changed to anti-matter rounds and covered the entire line. Exhausting his blocks, he ran and grabbed the only survivor of the two and threw them into the closest hole. The Phantom in it caught them, the recipient of their impromptu toss unknowing as the suit set to repairing the damage of the plasma bolt that had come too close and caused third degree burns across their body and a huge loss of nanites and armor.

Wendel pivoted as he threw the injured suit and jumped back into his crater. “Fucking hell!!”

“Well, Wendel, you really used your head for this one,” Jarek said as Mark cut to his sensor feed and saw two legs sticking out of Wendel’s crater.

“Will you hurry up and kill the bastards? This is not the most comfortable position.” Wendel’s legs retracted in the hole as he tried to turn around in the tight space with limited success.

“Nothing but whining. Good job, though, Wendel.”

“Thanks, Jarek.”

“Bellona Two, load AD.”

“Loaded,” the reply came. A few seconds later, the tribarrel elevated. “On target.”

“Phantoms, get down. Fire.”

The Phantoms ducked as the Bellona bucked. The anti-matter area denial weapon had the adjustable payload of a quarter pound to five. They were firing a half pound, the same amount of anti-matter that powered the Pluto-powered armor.

The shell lifted up, disappearing as the Phantoms dug like mad in their craters to bury themselves. The shell returned to the earth, exploding above the Maraukians. The road-turned-kill-zone funneled the explosion; it killed everything within the first three kilometers. The blast front smashed others against the walls of the kill zone and the thermal wave killed anything that wasn’t dead already. Not even a cockroach could’ve survived in the kill zone as it was superheated.

“Clean explosion. All right, get back here, Phantoms.”

Chyna and Jarek pulled themselves from the glassy ground, an effect of the miniature sun exploding a few hundred meters above their heads.

All of them saw Leigh’s suit. Other than having a multitude of deep scratches, the five holes that had ended the user’s life and losing a centimeter and a half of armor, it was relatively untouched, speaking to its design. That was all forgotten as the Phantoms gathered around it.

“Rest, Leigh. Your honor guard will follow you shortly.” Jarek initiated the return protocol. The suit dropped any extra ammunition; the NIAIs divvied it up and used their anti-grav to attach it to their users. They were oblivious as they watched the suit floating into the air, slowly taking off for the closest departure point. The Phantoms raised their M20s into the air, firing off a round in the air before turning back to the city, running through the very kill zone millions of Maraukians had lost their lives in.

***

“Legate Sextilius.” Mark had finally found his chain of command. “The city of Remorse is cleared. Phantoms awaiting new mission.”

“Look here, Centurion, just because you pushed off a wave of Maraukians doesn’t mean your city is fine.”

“We cleared it before the third wave of Maraukians attacked. We have support from EMF forces here—a company’s worth—and our position has too many people for it.”

“Centurion, as much as I appreciate your judgment, there isn’t much your centuria can do at this time.”

“Legate, were you informed we are an assault centuria?” Mark put emphasis on the assault.

“Assault centuria? We don’t have assault…”

“If I may, I think there was a miscommunication. Please look up the 182nd Centuria, Phantom Lords.”

The net was quiet for a few seconds.

“I thought the simulation was a fake and you were grounded?”

“The simulation was not a fake and no, Legate, we were pulled from Roma to be of assistance.”

“All right, I have here your results from the last assault and to be honest, we need you, but we need a damn legion of you—not just an understrength century.”

“Sir, we may be understrength but give us a mission and we will complete it.”

“All right, the 789th Century is pinned on all sides in the Relieve Forest. Fuck, this planet has weird names.”

“Yes, Legate, and I see their situation.”

“Can you help them?”

“Yes, Legate, I believe we can. I also scanned the net that you were looking for the 219th. They’re in the city Resolution—their drop-ship was struck.”

“Damn. Good work, and good luck.”

“No problem, Legate. Moving to 789th Century,” Mark acknowledged. “All right, Phantoms, we’re going to help 789th Century deep in the shit.”

Phantoms started moving, checking their kit as they put on their packs again, tripling the ammunition they held. Sarah changed Mark onto the command frequency between him, the 354th, and 125th.

“Got re-tasked to help the 789th out. Seems they’re in the shit. You guys are going to have to cover our positions till we get back.”

“All right, I’ll move the 125th into your positions.”

“Thanks.”

Mark accepted his pack from Evan as Dodger was already moving out his contubernium.

“Jesus, that’s one fucked-up position.” Jarek looked over the map of the hell they were going into.

“Drop-ship got shot down—they punched everyone out. Their centurion pulled them onto that hill, all fucked up still, to get a better vantage and create defenses.”

“You’re shitting me,” Chyna said in horror. He looked at the small hump barely a meter taller than the flat treed ground around it. “The fuck didn’t the idiot scan for the closest unit and link up?”

“Fuck if I know. Anyway, Maraukians got within twenty meters of the tree line. Luckily someone saw it and hosed the entire forest, which is now full with the larger part of a million Maraukians.”

“SNAFU,” Dodger said.

“Agreed,” Jarek said.

“What the heck does that mean?”

“Well, young Ava,” Mark said quietly, “it means situation normal, all fucked up.”

“Fits the Phantoms.”

“She does have a point,” Chyna said.

“We’ll sort out the damned sayings later. Prep to move.”

Mark changed nets. “Centurions, Warrant—the Phantoms are moving out. We’re going to see what we can do for a centuria with their asses under heavy fire.”

“Understood,” Centurion Flavius said. “We’ll look after the place while you’re gone.” The other two nodded before getting on their communicator and their nets; EMF and legionnaires repositioned.

“Thanks.”

“Look after yourself, Mark.”

Mark came to attention and saluted. They replied as Mark took off, the Phantoms falling in behind him.

“All right, so here’s my plan.” He put it on the net; the Phantoms pulled it apart, down to their components, sending their changes and thoughts back to Mark, incorporating what he could. In a few minutes, he was done.

“Guess I’m flanking as per normal.”

“Hey, you are the dodger.”

“You flatterer, Mark,” Dodger said with humor filling the net. The others laughed as they headed into the forested area beyond the flattened area around the cities.

Chapter 52

Nonmetal City

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

7/3353

“Get the fuck down and stay the FUCK DOWN!” Optio Kovyas yelled to his men. The veterans had jumped in the craters left by plasma bolts hitting the ground instead of them. M19s fired desperately at the advancing Maraukians, the Maraukians not letting up in the slightest as Optio Kovyas dragged his newly minted centurion screaming through the net.

“Run! Save yourselves! Run away!”

“Sir, kindly SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Kovyas yelled through his comm as he fragged the centurion’s NIAI, basically jamming it with immediate requests he was in no condition to complete, effectively silencing the centurion. He threw the man into a hole and he promptly adopted the fetal position. Some people were just not cut out for the frontlines.

Kovyas would later swear he could hear whimpers over the racket of fire as he looked at the image the sensors were bouncing back at him of the one point two million Maraukians coming from every direction at the laughable “hill” he and his now fifty men were perched on.

A burst of something crackled through both Kovyas’s and his idiot centurion’s brains as their NIAIs slowed it down enough for them to understand.

“This is Centurion Mark Victor. Get into cover. Ten seconds till blast.”

Kovyas scanned his map, not seeing anything on his sensors incoming. “Get the fuck down—blast incoming!” He wasn’t going to get his head up, especially when someone called a blast warning—no matter how strange. Most of the legionnaires followed his orders; others either didn’t pay attention or were too panicked to understand.

It sounded as if he were in the middle of a lightning storm; cracks came from the sky without the telltale dark sky or the blinding flashes.

The hill shook as thumps could be heard and felt around it. Then, for a few seconds, nothing—before Kovyas and his century were shaken like rag dolls. The ground came up and then down as shakes rattled them in their armor.

“Up and firing, Optio,” the centurion said almost conversationally, shaking the cobwebs from Kovyas’s head.

“All right, let’s hammer the fuckers. You don’t want to live forever, do you!?”

The legionnaires replied with their guttural cries for death and destruction, raising their weapons up as they fired into the stunned Maraukians. The tree line was gone, replaced by craters perfectly distanced to make the tiny rise they’d called a hill into an actual hill. For kilometers, the tree lines were just blown over, revealing the Maraukians still swarming the hill. Kovyas didn’t need to aim as he held the trigger and moved his barrel across the front of the pushed-back Maraukians.

***

“All right, Phantoms, take out their commanders while they’re still confused.” Mark cycled his M20s on top of his forearm, taking aim at two herd commanders. He breathed out as Sarah careted his targets. He watched as the high-density rounds spat from the M20, creating silver streams. One hit the herd commander’s power pack for his plasma cannon, turning him into a cyan fireball. The second died from the blast but five rounds found its power module as it landed. Mark changed his targets onto commanders, the rounds having the same effect of being hit by a Bellona.

Mark threw himself away from his old position as fire coated the area and ripped apart the trees in sprays of splinters and set them on fire. Carets for a commander came into his sights as he fired without thinking and began running through the forest erratically to throw off the dumb normals. He fired in bursts, cutting down carets of commanders.

The Phantoms were spaced out in a circle, enwrapping the Maraukians attacking the hill. Chaos reigned as commanders died from seemingly nowhere and then when the attacker was found, they’d disappear into the forest again, with another appearing and killing yet more leaders.

Angry and annoyed, the herd commanders turned their last ranks outward, firing constantly into the forest. Rachel was hit by a round in the hand; she cut it off before it could spread. Everyone sighed in relief.

“Dig in!” Mark threw down a cratering charge and jumped into the hole it created. He raised his fists, his M20s cycling to the outside of his arms. Sarah took over his left, walking the stream across the charging apes.

Mark merged their minds, working together. Sarah took over the suit’s operations as Mark worked on his plans, half watching as he used his right hand to kill the careted leaders.

He barely noticed a herd commander waving toward him, ordering his herd onward. Mark put three in his skull; his herd raged, attacking the nearest source of fire, charging it wildly.

Sarah changed his left to HE rounds, hitting the trees around the Maraukians. The forest turned into weapons as splinters as big as Mark’s forearm ripped into the two hundred-strong herd, now reduced to less than one hundred.

The smarter herd commanders surrounded themselves with their heaviest members of their herd. They tried to regain the lost herds of other commanders. It was a hard thing to do with complete calm; in battle, many stopped their weaving to grab an extra herd, getting an anti-matter loaded round for their troubles.

***

Kovyas peeked from his cover and ducked quickly as coilguns and plasma bolts fired at him but that moment had surprised him. Silver streams like those from the M19A spat out in brraps, hitting herd commanders as fast as they could and receiving a hammering for their troubles. They returned with longer silver bursts. The Maraukians’ focus had completely changed, turning toward the faraway tree line. Un-herded Maraukians crazily charged the silver streams and the trees exploded as they got close.

Even with all of the firepower, it didn’t mean his people weren’t out of the line of fire by any means.

“Fuck—this is FUBAR.”

“You got that, Druta. Make sure everyone keeps the hell down. Too many people are getting the wrong idea. Get them to use their sensors.”

“Gotcha, Kovyas.” Druta ran from cover around to the other side of the hill. Plasma and rounds sparked in his wake as he yelled at people to get their stupid asses into cover.

Kovyas put his rifle over the lip of his crater, giving the closest Maraukian a burst to the stomach and hitting the ground like a sack of shit, his M19 already moving.

“Get that heavy rail gun online.” Kovyas gestured with his helmet at the weapon in the back of the crater.

A legionnaire grabbed it, passing Kovyas his rifle; he expertly checked the gun, loaded it and then threw it onto the lip and sat underneath it as they used the remote sensors to fire.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Kovyas said as other craters with heavy rail guns brought theirs online. “Let’s show these fuckers what happens when you mess with the 789th.”

***

“Shit, get your blades ready,” Jarek said as the Maraukians started taking ground at an alarming rate. The amount of trees had decreased rapidly as the Phantoms had blown so many up.

“LBMs!” Mark yelled. “Evan, Rachel, and Chyna, fire.”

They took a knee inside their trenches. Their harnesses, still holding their extra ammunition, were pushed away to reveal three barrels: one on each shoulder blade and the third in the center of their backs.

Each of them made a thumping noise. Dust rose around them as their legs dug into the ground as if they’d been hit by hammers then back into the fight. Mark communicated to the lightning ballistic missiles via a whisper laser. Sarah fired his M20s for him as the LBMs left the atmosphere. The accel rails on the backs of the Phantoms, having imparted all of the thrust, now finished as they turned lazily toward Gilese again. Their thrusters kicked as they sped back toward the ground. Mark used their fins to guide them to their locations Sarah had designated.

The Maraukians’ sensor suite was amazing, thus there were no sensors in them to guide them back to their targets, leaving them nothing for the Maraukians to lock onto with their sensors. Now the missiles accelerated even faster than they had coming out from their launchers, passing through Machs in seconds.

“Kovyas, get your people down again.”

Kovyas didn’t reply.

Mark hoped he was doing as he asked. “Phantoms, down.” They ducked into their holes.

The LBMs announced their arrival with their air-splitting bangs as they passed through Mach levels.

Mark leapt out of his trench. “Up!” he commanded as he walked forward. His boots clamped to the ground with each step as he fired his M20s upright while walking. Bass rumbled from his external speakers.

“Still too many of them alive,” Chyna said as they went back to running through the destroyed forest. Any debris that had been on the ground before had been part of the blast front projectiles slamming into the Maraukians normals, killing hundreds of thousands of them. The thermal wave from the anti-matter cored LBMs had killed many more, but there were still many more Maraukians left.

***

“What the hell is that?” a munifex asked.

Kovyas grinned as he reloaded his M19 and came up beside the gunner. “That would be Iron Maiden. Run to the hills, run for your lives.” He half sang along, firing over his dirt mound as the Phantoms speakers came to life.

Hellfire rained down on them and Iron Maiden filled the field of battle, the Phantoms cutting a terrifying figure as they continued the advance.

***

“Legatus Sextilius, we need fire support. We’re running low on ammo and the people on the hill are in worse shape than us.”

“I’ve got an artillery battery free—here’s the link.”

“Thank you, Legate.” Mark contacted the artillery centurion. “Hello, Arty?”

“Here and ready. Heard you need some fire from above.”

Mark threw the sensor outlook of the battlefield to the artillery centurion. “Got around five hundred thousand Maraukians.”

“Damn. All right, I won’t be able to fire that close to you.”

“We survived having a half pound of anti-matter blow up above our heads—some shrapnel won’t hurt us.”

“Still…”

“Legate Sextilius, can you get us clearance with the artillery?”

“Will do.”

“All right, support incoming. Get your heads down—incoming shrapnel.”

“Thanks, Arty.”

“Metal incoming,” Mark said as the air filled with the screams of artillery. The Phantoms rose, the world turning to hell around them. Mark poured on the fire, watching his ammo count dwindle as he fired anti-matter charges and running as he did so.

“Last block,” Sarah said.

Mark’s sword materialized in his hand with merging speed, seemingly appearing from nowhere. He paused and looked to the ground.

“Merge.” His voice was harsh yet crystal-clear: the speed and aggression of merging combined with the perfect merciless and deadly control.

The 480mm bomblet dropped from the sky, packed with shrapnel and a dose of HE, and exploded at Maraukian head height.

“Fire.”

The Phantoms released their safeties on their M20s finishing blocks in a matter of seconds. The shrapnel fell like rain on the Phantoms as they ran forward; mono-blades, wires, dagger, and darts appeared as if conjured from thin air as they waded into the Maraukians.

***

“By the gods.” Kovyas watched the Phantoms. He’d never seen a sane human ever charge the ten-foot tall, tusked grey monkeys or try to have a hand to hand fight with them.

The Phantoms smashed the Maraukians. It was like watching a prepared horde hitting humans in the open, but this time, it was the humans cleaving a path through the Maraukians. The Phantoms crushed everything around them. Kovyas looked at the largest suit, its double bastard swords cutting, slicing, and killing everything within their nine-foot reach.

Every movement was choreographed to bring about the most destruction to the Maraukians. Not one movement was wasted as the suits’ camouflage systems turned off, the black armor now blue from the blood. Offending limbs flew, heads dropped, bodies were split, and still the massive suit walked among the Maraukians. The Maraukians might have claws, teeth, and vibro-blades but the suit had mono-blades, the ground, and its own fists.

A suit was hit close to the bigger one. Kovyas could see it instantly as the Maraukians started to converge on the downed suit. The bigger suit came alive as its bastardized mono-blades whipped out mono-wire. The massive suit turned, twirling the swords as if they were yo-yos. It cut through trees; it cut through bone and hide; it spun so fast that objects were shredded by it.

Kovyas saw something he never thought he’d see: herd commanders moved away from the terror that was the suit. It killed hundreds, swinging the blades from its hands then its legs as it threw darts as fast as a machine gun.

The wounded suit got up, now missing an arm and flashing, as it threw darts at the oncoming Maraukians. The bigger suit pulled its swords in as it waded back into the oncoming horde. Blood and carnage flew as it continued a juggernaut of death. Its swords were blurs—terrifying, deadly blurs.

Kovyas knew if he or any of his men had been down there, they’d be dead. These Phantom Lords weren’t legionnaires by any standard. They were something more. Something deadlier and terrifying.

***

Sarah and Mark stood, scanning the area as shrapnel and bomblets blew up around them, the others as interconnected with their AIs as they reported back readiness and to stay the hell out of their killing area. They rode the merge for a few seconds, savoring the feeling of being alive, of living to see another day, of not dying like some of those who had started the journey with them into the battle.

Mark and Sarah fell away from each other. Feeling the power dwindling, Mark flicked his blades in reflex, not thinking of it as he sheathed them. He crouched down next who was said to be Optio Kovyas.

“Hello, Optio. I’m Centurion Victor.”

“Hello there, Centurion. Hope you don’t mind if I stay in my hole. You look a little worse for wear there, son.”

Mark’s view changed so he looked behind him, finding Evan with his right arm missing.

“I’m fine, Optio. Just need to find my arm.”

The optio laughed in his helmet.

“I think Tyler has it.”

“Thanks, boss.” Evan ran off.

“Wait—he was serious?”

“Yeah, just some rebonding. He’ll have a little scar as a reminder, probably. I think I accidentally started that trend.”

“What trend?”

“Keeping the scars to remember the lessons.”

“Makes sense. But still—just putting your arm on like that…”

“We’re used to the damage. We trained for this crap.”

“Understandable.”

“That’s it, I think for the artillery.” The screams of the incoming shells ended rapidly.

“Centurion Victor, we’ve been re-tasked. Good luck.”

“Thanks for the support, Arty.”

“You place the call—we bring the rain.”

“I like it. Victor out.”

Kovyas came out of his crater, whistling at what had been a forest. Kovyas came up beside Mark. “By the gods. How many did we even…”

“One point two million dead Maraukians. Get to the city of Remorse. We’re off.”

“Thanks. We owe you guys a round.”

“Thanks—we’ll be sure to collect.”

The Phantoms gathered together, passing out ammunition from a few who had massive holding cases. Kovyas took off his helmet, not believing his sensors as he looked at the forty-odd Phantom Lords who turned to the direction they’d come from and took off, covering a hundred meters faster than he could sprint as if it were a light jog.

“Patricia, how do you apply to be a Phantom?”

“Currently there is no recommended path to take. I can place you on a waiting list. It is said you will begin at the rank you are warranted. It is only known you will probably not assume the rank of centurion as those who are decani underneath Mark currently are to do so.”

“See you place me on the waiting list and give me updates as they become available.”

He turned back to his people, beaming with pride for a few seconds. “All right, you sorry sons of bitches—grab your kit. We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

This was met with mixed excitement: happy to be free of the hellhole and the pain in the ass they knew it’d be to haul all of their equipment anywhere. Such were the joys in the life of a legionnaire.

Chapter 53

Tower

Earth, Sol system

7/3353

“All right, listen in. As of 1500 Earth time, approximately two hours ago, a state of emergency was declared on Gilese Prime.” Wallace sat at the top of the table. No one was trying to cover over the fact that the Ministry of Intelligence was the real commander of the EMF.

“The people on the planet got this message;” The room went silent as Damus Versanti’s voice filled the room.

Wallace talked into the silence left by the speech. “This legion landed on Gilese in force. They took some cities, erecting defenses. The cities that have been taken by the Maraukians they are not even trying to attack. The Maraukians are hunting down any humans they can find and killing them. We do not know the goals of the Maraukians and they look to be mindless beasts, even with the technology they’ve displayed. It seems all they care about is killing. Once they have cleared a city, then they have started trying to dig out the cryobunkers. It is only a matter of time until they get in the bunkers and start eating the people inside.”

A chill ran down Jones’s spine. He had been brought up to date on the information by his aide. The look in the man’s eyes still stayed with him.

“I want a plan to fight these things and he wants it yesterday.” Wallace looked around the room. The way that he’d emphasized he left little doubt as to who he was talking about. “The Maraukians have plasma cannons that will turn our armor to melted slag. With a sensor suite good enough to shoot down a basically flying tank, seven generations ahead of anything we have—at least. If these legionnaires sense we’re there to kill them—well, from the last sensor read, they have two armadas still circling the planet with unknown weaponry and armor. If it’s at least as strong as these Bellona tanks they’ve got, then it’s going to take five hits with a Gauss cannon to penetrate. Plus it seems they’ve been fighting these Maraukians for a while and I doubt they just have a single force fighting everyone. So they’ve got somewhere to redo the four R’s.” Wallace’s face puckered up as he looked at them all. It seemed like the temperature in the room rose uncomfortably. “Regroup, re-arm, reload, and rest,” Wallace practically growled.

“Then we should attack their base,” three-star General Flouva suggested.

Wallace looked at the man if he had grown a second head.

Jones carefully kept his head down and started looking at information on his implants. He might not have led people on Earth and Fernix, but he’d picked up enough of the basics to pull apart some of what the legion was doing.

“A legionnaire is equipped with powered armor generations beyond our own, a rail gun that I’m told is better than our own AMRs, as well as a sword and a shield.” Wallace must have seen the skeptical looks at the last two items. “Get your fucking heads out of your asses and do it right fucking now,” Wallace said. An image showed on the wall behind him.

A group of legionnaires were formed into a solid line, their shields protecting them against the Maraukians that they were advancing on. It helped to bring into perspective how truly massive the Maraukians were. The legionnaires didn’t seem to care, their black shield wall advancing as blades cut into the creatures.

Legionnaires to the rear were firing over their comrades, creating a truly effective mobile defensive feature. The legionnaires pushed and stepped backward. It seemed they’d lost spirit as they turned and moved backward. The Maraukians moved forward just as the third and fourth line became the first and second. They snapped together like a single entity; their shields took the impact of the Maraukians. Here and there, a Maraukian was able to tear a shield free, or get a clawed hand into the formation. Wherever a hole appeared, a new legionnaire’s shield sprouted, attacking whichever Maraukian had made the breakthrough with impunity.

The video paused.

“They are motivated. They are well armed and well trained. It’s clear this isn’t their first fight and there are an estimated hundred and eighty-thousand legionnaires in the Gilese system. They were able to move them in weeks. While we will gather information, we will not outright attack them. I want plans as to how we will fight Maraukians, how we can fight the legionnaires, what tech we might need—all of it. I want you to plan a war and if you can’t, then I will find people who can.” Wallace looked around the room, his eyes cold.

His eyes came to rest on Jones. “Jones, I have a special assignment for you. While the regular legionnaires are impressive, there have been reports and videos of a group of legionnaires wearing different armor. Some call them Elves; others call them the Phantom Lords. They are the legion’s best. I want to know how we could neutralize them. That kind of tech would be…useful.”

“Yes, sir.” Jones nodded, hiding any indicator he wanted to do anything but deal with the legion.

Chapter 54

Alkali City

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

9/3353

Mark took off his helmet as he slid down to sit against the hull of a burnt-out Bellona. They’d been fighting for a week straight. They’d lost five more Phantoms and retaken twelve cities, clearing them tower by tower. This would be their thirteenth tower. They were running low on ammunition and nanites, and fatigued—however much their NIAIs and medical augments could dull the pull of sleep. Fighting continuously for a week straight or moving it took its toll; even in training, they would’ve slept for a night. The Phantoms didn’t complain, though, as they sat along the hull of the Bellona. Plasma bolts and rail guns fired overhead or pinged the shell every so often. That was for legionnaires, they’d say, grinning to one another and then listen to music or talk and decompress for a little while.

“Where’s the fucking ammunition at?” Jarek commed from where he sat against the tank.

“Believe that’s it there.” Ava highlighted a streak headed straight for them.

“I love the delivery system—always makes me feel safe when we have a KEW aimed at us for resupply.”

“Don’t want Dodger going on another flight,” Mark said.

“I was minding my own bloody business, checking the net, when that bloody missile packed me into the ground,” Dodger said angrily.

“I thought you got your name because you ‘dodge’ things?” Chyna added to the fresh chuckles of the Phantoms.

“Oh shut up.”

Jarek got his laughing under control. “For a second, I thought you were dead, from out of under the damned thing.”

“Well, I’ll say this for the space legion—they do have good aim.”

Laughter broke out from the Phantoms.

“Well, fuck me. This is heavy,” Chyna finished off.

“Well, it looks like this one’s not aimed at you this time,” Ava said as the pod buried itself in the ground.

Dodger exaggerated looking in the sky, continuing the good-natured laughs. “Thank fuck for that. Don’t think my back will ever be the same again.” He rubbed the back of his armor as if he were a pre-gene therapy geriatric.

“All right, you know the drill.” Mark grinned as he packed a new lip and put his helmet on. A burst of anti-grav put him on his feet. In a few bounds, he was at the pod, grabbing the much-needed high-density blocks and ready-made LBM packs. Sarah used the anti-grav to move the blocks into the positions Mark specified as he loaded his M20s manually.

Someone hooked him up to the autoloader, which filled his internal magazines.

Mark dropped back into his sitting position against the tank. “All right, might as well relax until someone gets our artillery into position and Legatus Sextilius gives us the…”

“Word?” Ava finished for him as his faraway gaze meant he was looking at something through his interface.

Mark stood and turned in a circle. “Give me a minute.” His M20s cycled as he fired in a circle around himself and then jumped, falling through the ground.

“Mark!?” Ava yelled over the net as she cycled her M20s, covering the hole.

“Always wanted to do that since I saw it in an old movie. She wore spandex. Great rear.”

“Mark,” Ava said warningly.

“I’m fine. Seems we were sitting on their manufacturing base. This is one of the first cities, so nearly everything’s underground. C’mon down when you’re loaded.”

“Damned idiot. You think you could’ve told us?” Ava jumped down, checking her surroundings and moving before the next Phantom landed.

“Well, this’ll sort out the nanite shortage.” Jarek jumped on a pile of raw metal, his nanites getting to work.

Sarah brought up the plan they’d used on the last nine cities. After some tweaking, Mark was pleased with it and sent it to everyone else as his nanites ate a shelving unit. It wasn’t as though anyone was going to need it in the near future.

Chapter 55

Westerly Slums

Earth, Sol system

9/3353

“You wanted more information on the black suits. They’re called the Phantom Lords, or Elves. They’ve got about sixty people. We can’t get exact numbers but it seems they’re the main assaulting force of the legion,” one of Nivad’s personal agents, a man who went by M, said. “Their armor is generations—even centuries—ahead of their regular powered armor. To use it, the Phantoms have to undergo body modifications. We’re unsure of what kind. Also, it appears they have the ability to ‘merge.’ Not really sure what happens but they become stronger, faster, and can operate their suits to capacity.”

“What would it take to kill them?” Jones asked.

“Probably a space-grade rail cannon. One of them had a small KEW land on them and dug himself out from underneath and laughed it off. They walked through a hail storm of shrapnel, using melee weapons to kill Maraukians in droves. They had what we estimate to be a ten megaton anti-matter explosion occur a few feet above their heads and the armor that was on the surface was hardly effected.” M shrugged.

Jones barely stopped himself from rubbing his face in frustration.

“Each of them is eight foot tall or bigger. We do not have any images of them stepping out of armor. It is some people’s belief that they are connected to the armor. We have not been able to detect any seams or other openings,” M added.

“Do you have a briefing packet?” Jones asked, his stomach sinking.

Jones saw a message arrive on his implants.

“Thank you, that will be all,” Jones said.

M turned and left. Jones was irked by his lack of respect, but he was Nivad Selvra’s agent. He wasn’t going to comment on it and he had much bigger issues. Like trying to figure out how to defeat a force that were undefeatable. Most of the notes on the information came up with ideas that the users were genetically altered.

Professionals commented on how their movements were too fast for humans. Others guessed the kinds of technology they were using. Most of it was so obtuse they held little importance to Jones.

Jones stared at the screen, not seeing it, remembering the meeting he had two days ago with the COEMF the Commander of Earth’s Military Forces, who had ordered him to find a way to capture a “black suit.” Seemed someone higher up wanted one. He was damned if they were going to get it, but it was his job to come up with a plan.

He started working on it. He’d been reading books on tactics recently. His plan wouldn’t be elegant and he couldn’t give a damn about the losses it incurred. But it just might work.

***

Jones carried the tablet, which seemed to burn his hand as he knocked on the outer door for the COEMF’s office. He was greeted by a secretary, who guided him to a seat in the lobby as she paged the COEMF.

“He’s waiting for you,” she said ten minutes later.

As if, he thought, annoyed at the politics the COEMF was using. It would have been normal if they weren’t being attacked. The COEMF was a figurehead with little power other than what Nivad the Director of the Ministry of Intelligence and ruler of Earth and Her Colonies gave him.

“Thank you.” Jones closed the door behind him as he faced the COEMF. He studied the walls with the COMEMF’s I-love-me wall covered in pictures of him shaking hands with various important people and medals of valor—undoubtedly signed by an officer who he’d had to work directly under always in his purview.

Jones had seen the COEMF’s record. He had served in hostile environments watching the battles from the safety of his carrier, getting coffee and making sure the filing system wasn’t messed up.

His record wasn’t too different from Jones’.

He was a master of the corporate game. If Jones’s plan worked, then it would be good for both of them.

Maybe something to cement our relationship and help each other out in getting some better positions. Leave someone else to make up the plans.

“Jones, it’s good to see you. Sorry about that—completely lost track of time. Is that the plans there?” The COEMF pointed at the tablet.

“Yes, sir. The cost-to-benefit ratio isn’t the prettiest, but it will show results. With the information supplied by the Ministry of Intelligence,” Jones said. He knew how to cover his ass.

The COEMF looked as if he were just twenty years old with his anti-aging treatments. “Good.” The man smiled conspiratorially with Jones. “I’m sure it will go fine, General, and your position will be improved.” He said with a politician’s smile: hungry to move forward and little care for what means he used.

“Thank you, sir.” Jones smiled. Time in the corporate arena had taught him well and the COEMF was the kind of person that Jones could ride the coattails off to a higher position.

“Have you ever thought to your retirement?” the COEMF asked casually.

“It would depend on the package, I guess,” Jones replied, as if talking to an old friend.

In the higher positions, taking retirement didn’t mean getting kicked out before the EMF had to pay your pension and having your food and medical pulled from you. It meant transitioning from the EMF to other corporate ventures, using the contacts you’d built up to leverage a suitable position and continue the game in that arena.

“I, too, have been thinking how this job wears on a man’s shoulders and in the current tense climate, it’s best to make use of any advantages we can.” The COEMF and Jones shared a smile.

Chapter 56

SLS Moby

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

9/3353

Damus looked as terrible as Charles felt. They’d been in the second battlegroup together but Charles had been so busy keeping the Phantoms resupplied and seeing as the Moby II didn’t have its forges yet because he hadn’t finished the lockout protocols, he was now on Lily Jumper, an asteroid miner.

He was tired of the constant banging which rang through the ship at all times as the ship mined the asteroid it was stuck to like a limpet. The lighting was too dull. The smell of chemicals that he knew were bad for a person gave him headaches. It was time he got the protocol finished—well, after he got the Phantoms’ gear all sorted, seeing as they needed to have it made out of the nanites’ vats. It was all quite a mess.

So he was thankful for the small break he got when Damus had asked him to join him on the Reclaimer.

“We need more actual Phantoms.” Damus sat in his chair, nursing an energy drink.

“The senate okayed it?”

“They will after they see the results that they’ve produced. They took entire cities by themselves. They’ve each killed more Maraukians than I could count in a lifetime and there are thirty-three of them.”

“Sixteen of them were killed on Gilese,” Charles pointed out quietly, remembering the faces of those he wouldn’t ever see alive again.

“I know but if we get more of them out there, maybe in mutual support, then damn, think what they could do? A maniple of Elves taking a city instead of a century. They’d have less casualties; they’d be safer, could do it faster, get more rest, and have more firepower and ammunition.”

“All good things. With the senate’s approval, we can get the suits. The MI overall aren’t too bad—they just need a guiding hand.”

“We need to keep Mark on the frontlines. He’s a leader, not a trainer.”

“Agreed and I know he’d say the same. But then who?”

“Chyna and Ava?”

“Sound choice. Tested in battle. Ava also helped make the suit and they’re both the first trainers. Should be a good choice. Why two of them, though? It would only need one probably. Plus we’d be taking two decani. With a group that is thirty big, losing two is a major loss.”

“This is true, but we can have one back up the other, in case.”

“All right.” Something didn’t sit right with Charles.

“We’ll talk with Mark when he’s free and see if we can’t iron it out after all of this mess.”

“Agreed. And get some actual sleep, Damus. I have a feeling it’ll only get harder after this one.”

“I have that feeling too.”

Chapter 57

Sillicate City

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

10/3353

“Fortieth floor clear.” Mark clipped onto the nanowire attached to the roof of the building. His camouflage melted into what he passed as he and three others soared up past the next floor.

“Forty-first floor clear,” Evan said, walking out to his own line.

“I’ve got some security contractor types acting kind of weird near me. There’s four companies in one building. Seems they cleared it and have armor on the bottom floor,” Jarek said as he cleared his own building.

“Let them be, but keep an eye on them. We still have a city to clear.”

Clearing the floors had become easier as the herds settled down on their own floors. Their territorial nature meant they spread out to cover an entire floor, claiming it as their own. The Phantoms would move onto a floor; using stealth and their mono weapons, they’d kill as many as possible without raising the alarm and move quickly to the herd commanders, who instead of asking for reinforcements—which would make their territory look weak, thus letting other herds take over—they’d have their forces fight with vibro-blades so the other herds wouldn’t notice.

The herd commanders hadn’t seen the Phantoms fight; they went through the vibro-wielding Maraukians as if they were butter. Sometimes this plan went to shit with the herd commander being smart enough to ask for reinforcements, thus alerting the whole tower, now hungry to gain more territory.

That was why both Ava and Dodger where in a firefight in the tower counter-clockwise to their position. The reinforced glass of the building would blow out occasionally, marking their progress and leaking black billowing smoke.

“They’re good,” Mark said to Sarah, watching them move on his split screen as he beheaded a Maraukian. He cut its partner in half, stabbing the last one in the head as it raised its coilgun.

“They’ve always been good.”

“I know but the last time I was able to see them operate by themselves fully was back in Crisidium. Since then, I’ve been too busy coordinating the battle to see how they’ve changed.”

“Everyone’s changed a lot, including you, Mark.”

“That’s true.”

“Mark, are you happy?”

Mark floated above five Maraukians in a circle. He crushed the first two with his boots, the two across them with his swords; his right flicked out faster than a snake as he turned the last Maraukian’s head, hitting the ground with a wet thump. He used anti-grav to cushion his footfalls as he thought about the random question.

“I guess I am. War is bloody and filled with confusion and loss, but now I know what I’m fighting for. I have what I need to fight my enemy and I’m not killing humans anymore because some bastard thinks they’ve overstepped their bounds so the only way to solve it is to kill them. With this, it’s them or us—and we’re not going anywhere.”

Sarah experienced the surety of that statement and felt something unlock. “Would you do everything and anything to save the human race?” Her tone was weird but she wanted to know so badly.

“Yes, I would hope so.”

She felt the hope he would do what he could at the right time, even if it meant his death. She felt not his willingness to die, but the willingness to give his life for everyone else.

“What if it went against orders?” Her tone was now mildly masculine.

“I hope it would never be against my orders.”

She felt satisfied deep in her programming as they headed back toward the line and to the next floor.

“Seems a bunch of corporate-paid security contractors are following us,” Jarek said.

Mark sensed his unease. “What kind of units?”

“Scouting.”

“All right, screw them for now and let them do what they want. As long as they don’t get in our way, don’t pay them any attention.”

“Got it, boss.”

***

Mark and the Phantoms rested on the government building of Hope. Mark had just finished reporting to Sextilius. The city was twelve times the size of Remorse and stretched for kilometers. It had taken them four days to clear the city

“Seems they’re coming for a visit. Damn, there’s a lot of them,” Jarek said. The city seemed to leak security contractors, from professional corporate forces to the security forces that acted as the police and emergency reaction services. Personnel streamed out from every tower—every doorway, window, and opening.

“All right. Freusht, Horlem, Queen, and Jarek—on me. Let’s go and see what the hell it is they want.”

***

Gunney Davos watched the twenty or so suits on top of Hope’s central tower sitting on the edge without a care in the world through his sights. He’d seen the towers these same suits had walked through filled with dead Maraukians, some looking as if they’d been killed by a shredder. More than one contractor had lost their rations as they’d taken their plasma and coilguns.

They’d mounted the heavier versions of the weapons on specially made transports, the smaller ones with modified grips to better suit a human. None of them had fired the things and Davos hoped to hell they wouldn’t.

“Nobody fucking shoot unless I say so,” he said for the hundredth time to his platoon, hoping they listened as they advanced to the tower.

He’d been told they weren’t going to do anything but talk to the suits. But the hover tanks and how everyone was arming themselves with Maraukian weapons made him think those weren’t his exact orders.

He saw five of the black suits step out into thin air, dropping from the top of the tower five kilometers above the ground.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed as the suits disappeared from view. He shook his head as he put his rifle on his back, checking his Maraukian weapon and the two massive boxes of ammunition he’d taken. Sighing, he continued moving forward with his platoon.

***

Mark walked at the front of the arrowhead toward the contractors, everyone’s guns holstered.

“Just a lovely stroll toward a bunch of rent-a-soldiers,” Jarek said sarcastically.

“It seems they’ve picked up heavy coil and plasma guns, mounting them on some vehicle bodies through a jury-rigged firing mechanism,” Freusht supplied, sending the sensor readings from the Phantoms on top of the tower. “The smaller coilguns—they’ve made a handle and trigger assembly. How effective they are is to be seen.”

“I wish I was playing football instead of this crap,” Horlem said.

“That’s because all you do is play soccer, Horlem,” Freusht retorted to the laughter of the Phantoms.

“Football, Freusht. Damned barbarians call it soccer.”

“I’ve seen a few football games. The players aren’t much better than barbarians, though their acting skills when they get a little tap—there is no match in the world.”

“Say that again!” Horlem yelled in response to the old argument.

Mark stifled his chuckle. “All right, ladies, let’s go see what they want.” They turned the corner onto the main straight where the majority of the contractor forces were advancing. Mark’s voice boomed through their external speakers.

“What do you—”

“Kill them all except for the middle one,” a loudspeaker replied.

Sarah and the other AIs activated their anti-grav. The world disappeared as heavy rail guns and plasma bolts smacked Jarek, Queen, Freusht, and Horlem.

Mark and Sarah merged instantly. Sarah updated Mark immediately as she brought his weapon systems online, running diagnostics as he jumped into a nearby tower.

Freusht had caught a rail gun round through his suit.

“Traiterous bastards!” Mark yelled out.

Pain, fear, and confusion filled his link to the net before Freusht’s life disappeared. His merge link died as well, telling Mark all he needed to know.

Horlem’s upper torso had vanished in a geyser of superheated metal, body parts, and armor. Anger and pain registered before his link went dead too. Queen no longer had anything from mid-thigh down. Jarek was missing an arm and had severe burns along the right side of his arm. But their suits took over, sealing the wound and pumping them with painkillers.

Mark had caught some of the blast coming from the plasma bolts that had killed Freusht and Horlem. He relished in the pain as it turned to anger. He breathed, feeling the control of the merge change. Anger and aggression were his world as information came faster and faster to him. He walked to the edge of the broken window he’d jumped in and looked at the three companies of private security forces. His superheated armor set anything flammable ablaze as thick black smoke rose from the window.

***

Gunney Davos was in shock as the vehicle carriers fired, the rest of the contractors following suit. The suits flew in random directions, one exploding and the largest one’s suit radiating heat waves as thousands of rounds filled the air. The suits disappeared behind cover.

Surprisingly, none of Davos’s people had fired. He turned to them, remembering what his friend Warrant Officer Tobias had said.

“Full unload. Everyone right fucking now. Throw your weapons down and interlock your hand behind your head and lie on the fucking ground. No fucking arguments.” Davos saw others throw their weapons away.

“Leave and you’ll be listed as treasonous and be banned to the outer systems,” the general in charge of the operation said through his loudspeakers. He turned back to the building where the biggest suit had disappeared into the tower. “Leave your weapons behind and present yourself to be detained.”

“The weapons you are using are not yours. They are the property of Roma’s legions. Your lives, however, are now MY PROPERTY.” Twin red orbs shone through the billowing smoke. Subsonics entered the man’s voice, drowning out anything else. It walked to the front of the building. The clean lines of the suit were gone; the hands were now claws. Spikes and interlocking blades covered its body.

“We came to help your people—you repaid our help with death. Disarm yourselves and you will be detained until a later date, when you may be released. Do this NOW!”

A hover tank fired. The suit disappeared as the rounds passed through where it had been. It threw itself out of another window, dropping on the front of the tank. The thirty-ton tank’s rear end rose into the air. The suit grabbed the main gun, throwing it over himself and into the tower. Swords appeared in its hands as it systematically took apart the tank. The hover plate and the power relays were ripped out, and armor tossed into the vehicles holding the Maraukian weapons. A driver panicked, diving at the suit, which turned, jumped and punched the front of the truck. Maraukian weapons were thrown from their cradle as the truck flipped and landed upside down. The engine compartment fell apart.

“Throw away your weapons and lie on the ground!” Davos said, following his own instructions and watching as the devil ripped through the ranks of contractors. It went through the soldiers like a whirlwind, ripping, cutting, and destroying the weapons.

***

Ava felt the unimaginable rage after the shocks of Freusht’s and Horlem’s deaths. She looked to Chyna and Dodger. “I’ll get him.” Everyone else already knew what was happening as they senselessly checked themselves, Chyna and Dodger organizing them.

She tipped off the tower, pushing against it and sending herself like a dart for the slaughter. She merged with Kela, pulling him into her more than she ever had before—one goal, one mindset. Mark was ripping any vehicle that hadn’t been destroyed with his horrendous armor and fists. Those who hadn’t let go of their weapons ran or were laid out on the ground.

She saw him walking toward the general as she let go of everything, feeling her link to him. “MARK!”

He didn’t stop. She could feel the rage powering him as she smacked into him at full tilt. She accessed the link to him, forcing herself through it as she yelled again.

“STOP!” She felt herself go deeper as she, Kela, Sarah, and the man behind the mask merged. Shock and confusion registered. Ava could understand his anger for the first time. Before, she thought she had but now she was experiencing it. She could sense how close he was to releasing it, how dangerous he truly was. It didn’t scare her; she trusted him. She knew he was integrating her, too; she released her memories, living them through with Mark as he did the same. Pain, love, sadness, happiness, fear, and joy passed between them as they understood each other more than any other ever possibly could.

They pulled back their connection. Ava looked at Mark. Kela flashed a warning as she picked up a rock and hit the general, who had pulled a pistol, and knocked the idiot out.

She pulled off her helmet and pulled off Mark’s.

He looked up at her with different eyes. “I lost them. They took my family from me again.”

“I know. I know.” She brought the man to her chest. His armor reverted to normal as he buried his face in her hair. His body shook with the silent cries of loss. Ava pulled him closer, feeling tears fall down her face. Mark stopped crying and cleared his throat. Ava released him. They stood, holding their helmets in their hands as they looked at the destruction Mark had caused.

Phantoms were already policing the security contractor and Maraukian weapons.

“Why do we have to kill one another?” Ava asked.

“Because of some asshole somewhere with a pen saying it’s the right thing to do.” Mark’s voice was full of pain as he weighed his helmet in his hand. He put it back on his head, sealing him in once again.

“Let’s give them a hand. Family has to work together.” Ava silently put her helmet back on, wiping the last tears from her brown-flecked blue eyes.

Jarek walked over, his helmet off, as tears streamed down his face. He tried to use his missing arm to wipe away the tears until he realized it was missing. Wendel held him as he threw his helmet to the ground in frustration and sunk to his knees. Queen floated from where he’d landed, settling on the ground. His nanites took what they needed from the surrounding area, rebuilding his armor piece by piece before it rebuilt his lower legs. He silently watched over Freusht and Horlem, his M20s ready. The other Phantoms who’d watched what had happened over the Pluto-powered armor sensors worked on trying to keep themselves busy before they allowed themselves to think about what had happened.

Mark and Ava helped round up rifles, letting the others take away the contractors and placing them in a tower cleared of Maraukian weapons, if not necessarily the bodies. Finally, the security contractors were put on three floors of the tower.

The Phantoms gathered around the bodies of Freusht and Horlem, removing their helmets. There wasn’t a dry eye; some tried to manfully hide it—others were on their knees, crying as Jarek had. People held one another for the comfort that at least this member of what could only be called a family wasn’t dead today.

Mark let them get settled down.

“To Mikael Freusht and George Horlem—Phantom Lords.”

Every M20 raised into the air slowly, firing a shot. The blast echoed through the silent towers except for the pangs of cooling metal. A second blast followed as the noise ebbed away.

Mark initiated the return protocol as the two suits rose a few feet off the ground and slowly passed through the city toward where the other Phantoms who hadn’t made it across Gilese rested.

“Legate Sextilius, this is Centurion Mark, Phantom Lords. Two KIA—Freusht and Horlem—two wounded, approximately two thousand security contractors under arrest.”

“What happened, Mark?”

“They killed them, sir.”

Ava’s heart went out to Mark as she heard the harsh tone and the memories of his past were brought to the fore.

How can a man live with so much death and not break? She looked at the man and slowly put her helmet back on.

Ava sensed something change in the Phantoms. They were closer than they had ever been to one another. They trusted one another completely but others had to earn their trust now; everything was hostile until deemed friendly.

A few hours later, a legionnaire told Mark the general was awake, with what appeared to be a boulder growing out of his head. Mark marched into what had been a cafeteria; he approached the general, who was the sole person in the room save three legionnaire guards, sipping what appeared to be coffee and looking as if to not have a care in the world.

“Now who ordered for you to take a suit back to be used?”

“Privil—” The small smile that had been on the man’s face disappeared as Mark picked the man up with a single hand by the throat, walked through the tables in the room and smashed him against the wall.

“Now I will ask again, who asked for the suit?” He squeezed a little and the man’s eyes bulged.

Ava could see the shock in the man’s eyes, looking for help. The legionnaires nodded to Ava, who nodded back as they got some coffee from a dispenser and ignored them.

“Who?” Mark said as the man coughed for air.

“COEMF,” he struggled to get out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes!” the man yelled.

Kela registered the wet spot growing on the man’s pants.

“Get this piece of shit out of my sight,” Mark said to the munifex and evocatus having coffee as he dropped the general in a wet patch. The legionnaires walked over to the man, checking him over as Mark and Ava walked out of the cafeteria.

“This is fucking messed up,” Mark commed.

“Agreed.”

They walked back to the others, who were now with who their NIAIs told them was Legatus Sextilius. His contubernium of security scanned the area as the Phantoms lounged around on the rubble, uninterested in what was going on.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“It’s not your fault and you didn’t come all of the way just to give your condolences.”

“I wish I came to do so. Every man and woman who serves under me deserves it.”

“I didn’t mean to be rash. Sorry, Legate.”

“It’s okay, Mark. I understand. But yes, you’re right—I’m not just here to honor your dead. We need you to go out with the lead Bellona tanks and clear the forests.”

“Mop-up duty,” Ava said before Mark could speak.

“That’s right. It ain’t glorious but it needs to be done. Also, your shipment arrived. It’ll be here tomorrow, so rest. We’ll take care of your people. You have my word they’ll be treated with honor.”

“Thank you, Legate. We’ll look after them till then and get some sleep. We’ll be in the central tower.”

“Understood. Dismissed then.” Mark and Sextilius saluted each other.

“All right, Phantoms, we’re relocating to central tower. Move out.” Mark sounded tired as the Phantoms gathered together and set off in their ground-eating lope toward the tower.

It was a few hours later when Ava found Mark again. He was sitting in a broken window a few kilometers above the ground, the vicious wind a slow breeze as he smoked one of his aromatic cigars and looked out upon Gilese.

“Disgusting habit, that,” Ava said, stealing it from Mark in a quick pinch. She inhaled the smoke, tasting the flavors of the infused cigar and exhaling slowly as she passed it back. She leaned against the pane of plexiglass, looking out upon the same view in companionable silence.

“You’re going to be transferred before we go out tomorrow.” Mark broke the silence. Ava’s stomach dropped as he continued.

“Seems you and Chyna will be held back to train the next batch of Phantoms. Nothing shoddy—you hear me?” Mark pointed his finger sarcastically, the joke dry as she gave him a slight smile and took the cigar from him again.

“What about you, Mark?”

“I’m okay for now since we…merged.” His look eased some of the tension she felt and added it in different ways. “I feel like I’ve gained more control and become more centered.”

“I understand.” She was the only one in the universe who could, she understood as she looked back at him.

They relaxed for the first time in weeks, contemplating and staring into nothing, smoking the cigar, content as they reflected. As they looked over the tower, they saw Phantoms leaning out of windows, sitting on ruined desks, talking to one another, weapons dotted around them.

“I’m going to find Chyna,” Ava said.

“Good luck.” Mark waved her off. He continued to stare out over Gilese, taking in the moment.

Ava felt a small smile on her lips as she walked away. He’d been a lot calmer since the merge. She was still scared of the things that were piled up inside him. The harrowing memories helped her to understand him as a man; she knew she wouldn’t have been able to make it through most of the things he’d conquered.

She found Chyna cleaning his blade, overlooking a park below.

He nodded to her, continuing his cleaning as she sat down and watched him.

“We’ve come a long way from Crisidium,” Ava muttered.

“That we have, young one,” Chyna replied.

“There isn’t any other unit I’d rather be in other than the Phantom Lords.”

“Nor I. Our family is a strong and formidable one.”

“That it is.”

Chapter 58

Bellona 6782

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

10/3353

Thomas McDougall watched as Gilese Actual filled his view screen. “Robert, check the damn seals again.”

“But boss, this is the third time!” Robert said wearily.

“Better to check them five times and be safe than once and find ourselves breathing in space.”

“You got it, boss.” Valentine rolled his eyes, mouthing “new guys” from his driving position in the tank, thoughtfully named with the words pointy end and wait for flash on the turret.

“Chang, Lackey—status?”

“Front left turrets and countermeasures locked down, loaded and ready,” Chang said tiredly from his separate cockpit—consisting of two ladders, a sleeping quarters, and the reactors that drove the beast, over two hundred meters from McDougall.

Lackey, placed opposite Chang, commed in: “All good here, too, boss.”

“Before you ask, we’re fine down here too,” Jennifer Laefertie said in the engine room, keeping the beast rolling and repaired when they found Maraukians.

“Alrighty, bay doors opening.”

“Bellona 6782, engaging mechanical and grav locks.”

“Roger, drop-ship 294.” McDougall rechecked the locks. “Good on this side.”

“Moving.”

The Bellona moved off the bay floor. The first contubernium moved forward, turning down and away from the carrier. McDougall’s Bellona moved forward after them, dropping behind them. McDougall slaved his view screen to the packed 360-degree view. Behind him, the third battlegroup were pushing out their drop-ships and supply shuttles as fast as possible. More were coming from Gilese’s ground, adding to the mass of ships showing on his sensor readings. The third battlegroup was two times the size of the second in “ground pounders,” as McDougall referred to them. Three times the amount of “spacey bastards” and still McDougall didn’t feel totally safe, even inside Betsy. With the Maraukians having A-drive, they could strike anywhere, at any time, with little or no warning. The universe had become a scarier place.

The drop gull fitted to the Bellona to let it enter atmosphere heated up as they were buffeted entering the atmosphere. McDougall checked his harness as Valentine whooped. The universe seemingly dropped from underneath as they sliced into the atmosphere with hundreds of other drop-ships and shuttles, each looking like sparking comets. Herd commanders opened fire at targets.

McDougall could see hundreds of kilometers around the other side of the planet. Not today, McDougall thought. He whooped with Valentine as they and a battalion of other Bellona blew their drop kit. Drop-ships released them a few meters off the ground, thumping as they did so. Valentine had them moving and the rest tracking guns.

“All good here, boss,” Laefertie said from the engine room.

McDougall scanned his panoramic view screen as tanks dropped their power plants, growling as they pushed on toward the city Hope. They slowed down. As McDougall entered the city, it seemed to rain Maraukian bodies that smashed into the valleys between the towers. EMF vehicles modified to hold Maraukian weapons lay scattered across the main roadways, destroyed and ripped apart in one area as if they’d met a meat grinder. McDougall took a closer look at the towers, seeing EMF pushing the bodies out as legionnaires watched them very closely.

“Something’s changed between Legionnaire and EMF forces, it seems,” he commed to the rest of the crew.

“Seems they killed two Phantom Lords and heavily injured two more.” Robert scanned the net for information. “Shit, I was told the Phantoms were bad ass but this is insane,” he continued over the open net.

“Which would be what, Robert?”

“Boss, they cleared the entire city themselves with only twelve minor firefights, three major ones and then one man ripped the entire EMF force, of approximately three battalions’ worth of soldiers, a new asshole.”

Thomas looked at his view screen, shocked, as he looked at the destruction reaped on the EMF vehicles Valentine was crushing beneath the Bellona tracks. Remind me not to get on this guy’s bad side.

“Going up.” McDougall popped his hatch as his seat pushed him through the armor and to his seat behind three heavy rail guns on top of the tank turning with him as he looked around. At the base of the main building, thirty or so massive black suits sat and lounged across what lay around. They rustled as the tanks got close. The tallest one walked forward as Valentine stopped the Bellona before them.

“I believe you’re our ride,” the mountain of armor commed in such a rush that McDougall had to let his NIAI translate it.

“I believe so, sir.”

“Just call me Mark. You and yours ready to roll?”

“You bet, Mark. We’ve got fifteen Bellona ready to rock.”

“Pleased to hear it. Phantoms.”

The Phantoms picked themselves up, shaking themselves as they dispersed among the Bellona in minutes. Mark jumped and landed beside McDougall’s hatch. “Now let’s go kill us some Maraukians.”

“I agree with that.” Then to the tank commanders, he ordered, “Roll out.” He looked back to Mark. “I’m going down. You sure you’ll be fine there?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll move fast enough when the osmium and anti-matter starts flying.”

With that, McDougall punched his release and dropped into the tank in less than a second. The hatches shut behind him as he studied the world through his view screens. They turned on the main street, out toward the jungle which made up much of Gilese—packed with Maraukians.

“All right, Valentine, get us to the step-off point. Robert, make sure everyone knows their place and get in contact with the other Bellona. I also want a link to artillery if we need cover in a hurry.”

The NIAI was a great tool but it was still hard for a tank company commander to talk to everyone, designate targets, and the million and one things he had to be able to do continuously. Thus Robert McDougall watched as Valentine gunned the Bellona’s power plant, feeding power into the tracks as they mounted a three-hundred-foot hill. They were airborne for a few seconds, which made McDougall’s heart race as nothing weighing in the tens of thousands of tons should be airborne for any amount of time.

“Valentine, I’ve told you a million times.”

“I know—it’s not my hover bike on a rough course. Betsy just needed to stretch her tracks is all.”

The tank purred, seemingly agreeing with her driver as they rushed through a forest, tearing up the beautiful jungle of Gilese underneath its eight ten-meter-wide tracks. McDougall rolled his eyes as he scanned his screens, pulling up the placement of the Bellona corralling the Maraukians toward them. A semicircle of sixty Bellona had cleared downward from the top of the continent, killing Maraukians with all of the artillery and firepower they could provide. It would later be referred to as the blue sea, the area covered in crushed Maraukian bodies from the north to the south of the single continent of Gilese. A trail of resupplying trucks was behind the Bellona, rushing up and attaching to the rear of them. When they ran low on rounds, they fed into the Bellona’s ammunition compartments, still moving and then detaching when it was out of rounds. The Bellona would close its hatches, firing continuously as if nothing had happened and the truck went to the nearest prepared ammo dump to re-arm.

The number of re-arming trucks behind the tanks was in the hundreds, ripping the beautiful jungles of Gilese to shreds. Following Bellona tradition: “If it’s beautiful the first time you run it over, reverse and try again.”

Force 431 with McDougall at its lead, formed a semicircle as red dots showing Maraukian life-forms appeared in front of them. The outer edges of the formation linked up with the rest of the advancing Bellona.

“Guns up, ladies and gents. It’s a target-rich environment. Watch for friendlies,” McDougall commed the tanks kilometers away from one another as it met with the Maraukians still in the interior building factories or advancing to take cities. The whole tank rocked as the main gun fired out a shell weighing three tons. It released bomblets over the Maraukians, hitting the ground and coming up again to their head height again before exploding, creating a wave of shrapnel. Flechettes followed from the sweeper barrel as it rotated into place, firing in the two seconds it took the autoloader to put the three-ton shells into its chamber.

“I need a reload,” McDougall commed his supply centurion as a truck raced from the rear. “Laefertie?”

“On it already.” The blow-out compartments opened, revealing a single tube. Two pincers dropped from the truck’s front, grabbing the Bellona and pushing forward a matching tube into the Bellona. Within twenty seconds, the truck’s tube receded as its pincers rotated up and it turned away, the blow-out hatches closing.

“Robert, rolling artillery five kilometers out.”

McDougall made his view screen of his surroundings smaller by bringing his hands together and moved it to the side; he brought up the map of a swarm of red against the green symbols of the Bellona to the other half watching as artillery barrages kilometers away laid in targets, okaying them as they fired. The air howled as the artillery’s 210mm accel tubes and their 140mm multi-launchers filled the air. Hundreds of thousands of rounds filled the air, shadowing the Bellona as they passed over. McDougall remembered a quote from the ill-fated Spartans. They had been told that the archers of the Persian army were so many that their arrows would blot out the sun. To which they replied: “Good. Then we will fight in the shade.”

McDougall grinned ferally as the bone-shaking main gun fired into the solid wall of Maraukians. “Slow pace. Don’t want to get in and among the bastards, Valentine.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Robert, you copy?”

“Sent to the other commanders already.”

Instead of the whiny voice he’d had when checking the hatches, his voice was now all business as he was the nerve center of the assault force. He might be a keeper, McDougall thought, as Mark opened a channel to him.

“McDougall, if you want to keep your current pace, we can help keep up the pressure.”

“I don’t see how, but give it a try and I’ll advise my people accordingly.”

“My gods.”

“We aren’t even allowed anti-matter weapons. They’ve got enough on them to blow up a continent,” Chang said, over exaggerating.

Lackey reflected what McDougall’s disbelieving eyes saw as Phantoms knelt on their respective Bellona. Anti-matter grenades, the size of a ping-pong ball, launched themselves over three kilometers, creating a killing radius of a kilometer and working in perfect synchronization with the Bellona. They shot between their flat, expanding rectangular flechette blasts and created a moving wall of fire as he and Lackey blasted anything left moving. The wall of death walked over the Maraukians, their plasma cannons and rail guns more accurate as they had time to adjust.

“Get me those fucking herd commanders,” McDougall barked at his support gunners and the Phantoms.

“Bellona 958 took a direct hit to the turret—they’re walking fire.” Before he could finish, the Phantoms had changed their aim onto the grouped herd commanders running around trying to avoid being hit as they walked their fire across the Bellona. As their normals followed their commanders’ fire, laying on with their smaller rail guns and plasma cannons, the Phantoms’ M20s came up, spitting anti-matter rounds through the hail storm and leaving five-hundred-meter craters around each herd commander. The normals, now confused, fired wildly at the advancing Bellona.

“Reactor unstable. Initiating shutdown.” Robert’s voice was calm as he dropped the blast doors around the He3 fusion reactors. He cut them off just in time as one blew inside the blast shield. Its power output bled into the ground through a grounding rod instead of through the entire electronics system. The temperature, though, soared to five hundred degrees Celsius in the few milliseconds it took the blast shield to close fully.

Goddamn sorry bastards. McDougall thought of the tankers’ fate of dying in the very thing that kept them alive.

“Crew a little injured but so far fine. Phantoms checking Bellona systems,” Mark said.

McDougall dragged up a schematic of the Bellona, blowing it up as he saw warning signs over the Bellona right where the users would be. “How did you?”

“We cut them out. Might take a bit to repair but they’re alive.”

“Robert, get some repair trucks on that Bellona. I want it up and running as fast as possible. Also get medical to them.”

“Moving them to Bellona.” Robert sounded confused.

“The Phantoms ripped them out of the tank before she blew,” he said in way of reply, changing to Valentine. “We good to pick up pace?”

“Yeah, the Phantoms are taking over the operations area of the Bellona with their M20s. We’re good to go.”

“All right, ram the fuckers. Support gunners, give the Phantoms all calls of fire.” He switched back to Mark. “Mark, I switched my support gunners under your control.”

“Thanks, McDougall. We’ll use it wisely. We need ammo resupply, though.”

“Got it. Robert, we need ammunition for Phantoms.” After a confirmation, he told Mark, “Ammunition should be en route, Mark.”

“Okay, we’ll let them really have it now.”

McDougall realized he was getting used to Mark’s speed by just not trying to organize words but letting it flow over him and letting his brain understand it. In turn, he became faster himself at comming.

“Support vehicles are with the Bellona—say the tank’s out but the crew’s fine, if a little shook up at having mono-blades centimeters from their heads and bodies cut their Bellona apart and Phantoms rip them from the bellies of their tanks.”

“Good. Status on artillery?”

“Rolling still in front of us by five kilometers. I kept them updated on our changing speeds. Trucks inbound for resupply.”

The truck re-docked as before. This time, a legionnaire hauled a black box to the top of it. Mark dropped down, grabbing it and hauling it onto his back; he ran back to his position, throwing his other Phantoms ammo blocks.

“We have a call of hellfire ready at your disposal for final clearance,” Mark said.

A symbol appeared on McDougall’s view screen. He pulled it onto the map, whistling and grinning as he looked at the data.

“We’ve got reports from assault forces three and two—they’re under heavy fire. They’re slowing pace considerably. Two is three tanks out, nine down. Three is one down, four out.”

“Valentine, shift forces to help cover three and two.”

“Rog.”

The tanks that had been coming closer now moved apart as they expanded to cover more area.

“Assault one’s commander is down!”

“McDougall, one of my Phantoms can run communications for the new commander.”

“Do it.”

“Laefertie?”

“Running fine, boss. Moving ammo to support.”

“Valentine?”

“Good on course—shifted to help cover the other sectors.”

“Lackey, Chang?”

“Good here, boss. Covering Phantoms as they call for fire. Countermeasures on full automatic.”

Happy, McDougall focused on his turret. As the barrels changed, he stroked the trigger and cut through Maraukians already softened up by artillery. His mounted gun above him fired across an invisible line. He cleared his view screen except for his 360-degree view of the concentration of Maraukians and his tanks’ positions and the Phantoms mostly running in between the tanks, using their overwhelming fire to pick off herd commanders and focus their herds’ fire onto places the Bellona weren’t.

McDougall watched as the circle tightened. The symbol for hell storm flashed; he picked it, placing it over the middle area of Maraukians where their assault barges had landed and pressed Accept.

The Phantoms jumped to the ground, crouching as rockets lifted from their backs. Some Maraukian herd commanders saw them focusing their fire on the missiles that blew up in mid-air before accelerating beyond even their sensors could detect, disappearing into the sky.

Then the Phantoms ran, jumping back on their tanks, adding their firepower back to the Bellona.

McDougall pulled the tank off automatic again as he fired the flechette shells at the Maraukians. Each shell was basically two and a half tons of flechettes sealed as tightly together as possible, with a discarding covering and accel plate. The accel plate, when activated, released its anti-matter charge, ramming the entire thing down the tube. The flechette’s burst was shaped by the rectangular end; as the covering was discarded, millions of flechettes burst from the sweeper barrel, traveling five thousand kilometers a second in an expanding rectangular wave washing over Maraukians, trees, and anything in front of it. It was the universe’s biggest tracked shotgun.

Millions of Maraukians swarmed in an area fifty kilometers wide, packed shoulder to shoulder. Artillery exacted a massive toll but still there was so many that kept on coming, always coming. The Bellona slowed, as for as many Maraukians died, two or three stepped into their place, hyper-aggressive and baying for blood as they fired back defiantly. Like a cornered rat, they fought viciously with plasma and rail guns. Some whose herd commanders had been killed charged the tanks without guidance, with their vibro-blades vibrating fast enough to cut through anything in a slash, even Bellona armor.

“Slow the pace more. Robert, reload.”

“Impact in ten. Tell everyone to stop their advance.”

McDougall didn’t know why Mark would ask him to, but he trusted him and in battle that trust mattered. “Robert, order a complete stop.”

“All forces halt!” Robert’s voice yelled through every Bellona as they ground to a halt abruptly.

“So, Mark, mind telling me what this is about?”

“Splash in two.”

One. McDougall’s view screen went white then black as some sensors not fast enough to dim themselves went out and others dimmed as much as possible. Then came a scathing heat wave and pressure wave, shaking the Bellona as if it were a baby’s rattle as nothing that big should ever feel. Then the successive sounds of multiple objects smashing through the sound barriers left McDougall’s ears ringing as his view screen flashed back to life.

“We’re good to move, McDougall.”

“The gods?” McDougall turned the statement into a question as the final fifty kilometers filled with Maraukians was now stripped down tens of meters. Trees were thrown, as if toothpicks, in every direction—some landing on the Bellona and their support trucks. McDougall’s sensors now showed the area was filled with a few thousand Maraukians left instead of eight million.

“Lightning ballistic missiles—they do the job.”

“I’d say. Robert, get everyone to move up to the ridge. Kill anything left alive in it. Once done, we’ll move back and clear up any Maraukian that went for a little trip over our heads.”

“Boss, what was that?”

“Tell you later. Get it done.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Mark, can you check our rear?”

“Gotcha. I’ll take half of my Phantoms.”

“Agreed.”

Ten Phantoms got off their tanks, taking off in a ground-eating lope to the rear.

Holy shit, they were outside for that? McDougall thought about riding on the Bellona in the middle of the hell storm which had descended on them. Damn stubborn bastards. He laughed to himself as he looked at his view screen, studying the crater in close detail. It had been hit with what was equivalent to fifty megatons of TNT, around the same output of the largest bomb tested—before the united Terran world had continued into space—by Russia, one of the separate nations. It had been felt in what was then Norway and Finland, breaking windows. McDougall didn’t doubt that the mega-scrapers hundreds of kilometers away had seen the fireball and felt the explosion.

“What the fuck was that?” Legatus legionis Damus said over a direct channel to McDougall.

Definitely saw it. “Direct fire mission by the Phantom Lords, sir.”

“Of course it was.” Damus sighed. “Make sure they don’t blow up the entire planet.”

“Yes, Legatus legionis.”

The channel cut as McDougall thought of the Legatus legionis watching from his carrier hundreds of kilometers away in space.

“Mark, please keep the fireworks down a little bit. Legatus legionis saw it—from orbit.”

“There’s not much left for us anyway,” Mark shrugged.

Chapter 59

SLS Moby

Gilese Actual, Gilese system

11/3353

Mark and the Phantom Lords had been on Moby for a week, eating and sleeping while running maintenance on their heavily damaged suits. Evan was stepping into Ava’s position with ease, being liked by most of the Phantoms.

Mark had opted—as well as the rest of the chain of command—to sleep and live in the same area as the other Phantom Lords. Interacting with other people without a suit was still weird. It sounded weird to talk with their own mouths instead of comming one another. Jarek and Queen were recovering rapidly. Queen’s legs were almost fully regrown and Jarek’s arm was already fine, looking identical to the one he’d lost except for the hair-thin scar on his bicep. The Phantoms’ armor looked as if it was scarred with more purple than black. Lines showed where rounds and shrapnel had come too close.

The hatch cycled as Legatus legionis Damus walked in through the door. Everyone snapped to attention, saluting as they did so.

“At ease. Grab a seat. You, too, Captain Chen.”

The Phantoms did as they were told, sitting on their bunks closest to Damus.

“We’ll be taking on Senators Yorsht and Gurrera the day after next and then proceeding with two super dreadnaughts and four battlecruisers to Earth. Phantoms, you’re on security detail. Chen, support if we need to get out. We’re going to have talks—if they want to or not. I’m not going to lie. I’m fucking outraged at what they did to the Phantoms, so I don’t care what they say. We’ll invite them and broadcast to every damn human planet in the universe to let them know who we are, and what’s been going on the past two millennia. Though I want professionalism if we go planet-side—best behavior.”

“You have my word, Legatus legionis.” Mark glanced at the other Phantoms, who acknowledged him, even if reluctantly.

“All right. In three days, we’ll move to Earth. Captain Chen, you’re in charge of the space legion deployment.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get a list to you by the end of light schedule.”

“Thank you. Phantoms, I know I’m asking you a lot, but I know you’ll pull through.”

“Thank you, Primus. Full loadout?”

“Yes. We don’t know what they’ll do. If they try to frag you again, leave no one standing.” Damus’s eyes where cold as his lips pulled back in a wolf-like snarl.

The Phantoms’ eyes replied their hunger.

“After this is done, judgment will be passed on those who ordered this,” Mark said solemnly.

“As it should. No one fucks with the legion. Rip them out, leaf and root.”

“We will, Legatus legionis. Don’t doubt that.”

Damus nodded knowingly at Mark, who returned the gesture.

“All right, I’ll let you get the preparations ready. I have a briefing I have to read up on.”

The Phantoms and Captain Chen stood, saluting as Damus walked out.

“And for Jupiter’s sake, stop saluting every damned time you see me!” he yelled as the hatch cycled closed.

“Well, Mark, it looks like we’re headed back to Earth,” Sarah said.

“Yes, it does,” Mark commed back as he stared unseeingly at the hatch Damus had walked through. He sighed as he stood. The Primus was right; there were preparations to be made. He didn’t think it would be an open-arm welcome. It had never been before—why should now be any different?

His emotions started to get the better of him as he remembered Tyler and Alexis. A soft smile touched his lips.

While they might be gone, Jerome, Ortiz, Dominguez, Yu, Young, Bobbie, and Moretti are still alive. He let out a heavy breath. His smile brightened a bit. He missed his brother and sister-in-law, but there was no getting them back.

Sarah cleared her throat, breaking him away from his thoughts.

“Something the matter?” Mark asked.

“I didn’t want to say this before because it would distract you,” Sarah said, as if bracing herself. “Alexis, Tyler, and you were the targets of an assassination. General Jones was the one who gave the order, but Nivad Selvra of the Ministry of Intelligence turned a blind eye to it.”

Mark’s features that had softened now completely changed. His body shook with seething rage.

“Looks like it won’t just be a simple reunion,” Mark hissed through gritted teeth.

Thank you for reading The Tenth Awakens! The Maraukian War will continue in The Vanguard Moves!

From the Author

You can check out my other books, what I’m working on, and upcoming releases through the following means:

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Website: http://michaelchatfield.com/

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Thanks again for reading! 

Table of Contents

- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- From the Author