Nova Wars

The only warning that 3rd Squad HHC Platoon, Kilo Company had walked into an ambush was the sudden squeal of ECCM feedback and the fact that armored figures were coming up from behind barriers.

The route had been rerouted four times when the blast doors had proven a problem to get through, and now the squad was cut off from the rest of the platoon.

To be honest, Captain Kemtrelap wasn't quite sure where they were, the wireframe of the corridors and the open spaces a confused snarl and the microdrones still constantly filling his feed with garbage.

It looked like they were further away from the combat information command center than when they had started out.

And now they were getting shot at.

Captain Kemtrelap jerked back as the passageway suddenly filled with plasma packets and stuttering pulse laser shots. His armor was registering shots, just the white expanding circles, nothing red or yellow, his armor was still firmly in the blue.

But the entire corridor was filled with flashing beams and exploding plasma packets.

Training took over and everyone slammed against the walls, some hunkering down, others standing up. The Marines in front and back fired back, the heavy return fire was smashing against the wall. AM-6 rounds were detonating in bluish-white flashes against the barriers, the flare clearing to show a battlescreen still sparkling in front of the barrier.

Of course they've got battlescreens that don't hit the walls and collapse while we can't use ours without them collapsing, Captain Kemtrelap thought to himself. I hate this fucking war.

The communication's link clinked.

"What's the problem, Kilo Company?" the voice was slow, almost bored sounding, but definitely Terran.

"We're pinned down by overwhelming enemy strength and are off course," Captain Kemtrelap admitting.

"All right. I've got you on my map. Hold tite, be there in three mikes or less. Don't shoot me, it annoys me," the voice said.

The channel clinked off.

Sergeant Matling suddenly rolled into the hallway, his armor taking hits. Captain Kemtrelap opened his mouth to yell at the NCO to get back when the other Marine suddenly jammed his hand into the seam of the deckplates and ripped up a section, bending it into a curl. The NCO checked his rifle and leaned around the two inch thick deckplate, firing back. The privates on either side rolled away from the wall, coming up behind the plate and joining the NCO.

Before Captain Kemtrelap could give the orders, Specialist-Grade Four Ketrop did the same, ignoring that the pulse laser rifles of the Ornislarpt troops blew pockmarks into his armor before he could get the deck plating pulled up in a curl to take cover behind. The Captain rolled behind the plate, coming up on one knee.

"How the hell are these guys hitting us so hard?" Senior Lieutenant Hrek'tak asked.

Captain Kemtrelap shook his head. "There wasn't anything in the briefings warning of them having advances to their weapons."

PFC Pentflir looked over at the other two Marines. "Seriously?" he asked.

"What?" Hrek'tak replied.

"The Noocracy has been brawling with Confed since a thousand years before the Big C3. If they were weak, they'd have been 1%'d by now, or at least defeated and absorbed. They gave Confed a fit after the Second-Papa-Whiskey, using flashgates and modern weaponry. It took nearly thirty years to push them back to their boarders that time, and that was when we were still making Warsteel-Mark Five," the PFC said, sounding amazed.

Captain Kemtrelap stared at him for a moment. "My briefing didn't mention that."

"Daxin's balls, sir. The briefing said there was no apparent change in weaponry, vehicle, starship, or armor technological levels. There were annotation markers. Didn't you read the historical notes?" the PFC asked. "Only three hundred years ago the Noocracy managed to push Confed back from almost two hundred worlds in the Peripheral Terran Tomb World Zone."

The PFC looked around. "Am I the only one who read the footnotes and the appendixes?"

SP4 Ketrop ducked down from where he'd been popping shots at the Noocracy troops. "I did."

The two officers mumbled as Ketrop replaced his amblok and lifted his weapon up, using the electronic sight to look over the wall, and hosed off more rounds.

"Fucking officers," the PFC snarled.

"Show some respect," the Senior LT snapped.

The PFC didn't say anything, just leaned around the corner and hosed a long burst from his weapon before ducking back.

"Two minutes," came over Captain Kemtrelap's comlink.

"These guys have spent fifty thousand years coming up with counters to almost anything the Confederacy could throw at them. Once the creation engines and warsteel nanoforges went dark, they were pretty much on parity with Confed," Ketrop said. "Didn't anyone else go over the Admiral's reading list on the way out here?"

"Didn't you wonder why they were beating us like a rug in the sims?" Pentflir asked.

Neither officer answered.

Sergeant Matling cursed as he realized none of his masking grenades were going to work worth a damn in vacuum, the deckplating he was taking cover behind starting to show spots of red here and there. He glanced around the plate and cursed, pulling back.

"Sir, they're bringing up reinforcements and putting a pretty big gun on a mobile tripod," Matling warned.

Captain Kemtrelap looked around, trying to figure out a way to get out of the hallway. On either side the mapping said that the walls were measured in feet of hardened deckplate, blast shielding to keep the hallway intact even if the ship took a hit that penetrated to the interior.

"Sixty seconds," the voice said.

"You better hurry," Captain Kemtrelap answered.

The plate that Captain Kemtrelap was hunkered down behind suddenly began to vibrate hard and small dimples began appearing. More and more, a thick band of random divots that moved from the lower right toward the center and then began tracking in circles.

"They've got a rapid fire up," Pentflir said helpfully.

Captain Kemtrelap just glared.

"Almost," the voice said.

"They've got crew served," Captain Kemtrelap warned.

"Won't help them. Five seconds, port aft side stop firing," the voice said. "Gonna be mad if you shoot me."

Captain Kemtrelap looked at Sergeant Matling, using the laser commo. "Cease fire, we've got reinforcements coming in."

Sergeant Matling nodded, his armor tossing an 'affirmative' back to Captain Kemtrelap. The NCO stuck the barrel of his rifle around the corner, looking at the small HUD window.

Two of the big lizard Nookies were banging on the side of the heavy gun while another one was trying to pull something from the breech.

It looked to Matling like it was a knife.

Three of the Nookie troops suddenly turned, bringing up their rifles and firing to the side.

Matling frowned.

He saw a Terran slide from the right hallway behind the barrier the Nookies had deployed. They had the bottom leg folded, the upper one outstretched, and their lower elbow holding them up as the slid on their side.

Nookie troops flew up into the air or off to the left.

The Terran stood up at the same time as the Nookie troops and Matling surpressed a groan.

The Terran was in shipboard adaptive camouflage with chest, forearm, shin, and thigh hardplate with knee and elbow pads. No weapons, just a belt with a tank for their breathing mask, the tank the size of a can of fizzypop.

The Terran was looking down and suddenly flexed their arms, fists bunched, arms slightly curling outward.

The edges of the corridor crunched and caved in. The ceiling dented upwards and sparks showered down. The Nookie troops were flung away, some of them shedding pieces of armor. Two of the heavier armors managed to stay in place.

The Terran kicked high, tilting his upper body the opposite direction.

The helmet flew off, leaving blood to gout free in a spray of liquid that turned to frost.

The one on the right fired, but the angle the Terran was add made the weapon miss.

Somehow the Terran came upright holding the barrel of the Nookie's heavy rifle, pushing it under the Nookie's chin.

The head blew off.

Matling frowned when it looked like the Terran was somehow slapping pulse rifle shots and plasma blaster fire away from their body with their bare hands.

Matling could see the Terran had a crazed grin on their face.

The Terran jumped forward, hands on their hips, thrusting their pelvis as they vanished to the left.

Captain Kemtrelap clicked the grenade's fuse twice, setting it for proximity, and threw it over the barrier, which was starting to look really really tired.

"On your right," the Terran's voice sounded out.

It went off and the rate of fire slacked off for a moment.

"Bellona's tits!" someone yelled. "Watch it!"

The Terran landed on their hands, pushed off into an arc that took them over the barrier.

"Take the intersection!" Matling yelled from behind Captain Kemtrelap. The Kilo Company CO looked back just in time to see Sergeant Matling and four other men rush from behind the peeled up deckplate, firing their weapons from a high ready.

Captain Kemtrelap looked back just in time to see the Terran vault over the barrier the Nookie troops were behind. One hand slapped the barrel of the heavy crew served weapon, shattering it, somehow causing the breech to explode in the face of the gunner and the trooper feeding the belt of 2.75mm rounds into the gun. An outstretched foot knocked off a helmet, a lazy looking slap caved in a chest. The Terran landed and kicked one foot out, spinning in place. Nookie troops flew back, slamming against the corridor plating and either shattering or embedding into the plating at angles that spoke silently of broken bodies.

The Terran was practically a blur of motion as it engaged the Nookie troops. An out-thrust hip sent a Nookie Spodder flying back shedding six of its legs. A knee caved in the bottom of a Red Lizzie reptile Nookie and broke the legs off of the armor. A stomp exploded the knee of another.

Captain Kemtrelap blinked reflexively as his optic nerve tried to keep up with the Terran's movements.

In less time than it took him to breathe twice, the Nookie troops were all down and dead.

"All clear," the Terran said. He backflipped over the barrier, twisting so he landed facing Captain Kemtrelap. He put the face mask back on, tabbing the tank and inhaling sharply. "You shouldn't have waited till you were pinned down like that to call for assistance," the Terran chided.

"How..." SP4 Ketrop started to say.

"Man Amplification Program," the Terran said. "Just be glad I'm not one of those Monster or Full Moon Class weirdos," he laughed.

To Captain Kemtrelap the laughter held the too-tightly wound sound of insanity.

"I don't suddenly start howling at the moon or drool warsteel," the Terran laughed.

"Ooh-kay," Ketrop said.

The Terran stopped. "You guys good?" he asked.

"We're pushing for the Combat Information and Command Center," Captain Kemtrelap said.

The Terran closed his eyes then made a tossing motion. "Least time route with backups. Good luck."

Before Captain Kemtrelap could say anything the Terran put two fingers against his temple. "I see you. Ninety seconds. I'm coming."

The Terran took off at a run.

Captain Kemtrelap looked around, the map decompressing and loading.

"All right, let's get going."

0-0-0-0-0

Senior Sergeant Impton ran for the ditch, watching the count-down on the upper right of his vision. Behind him the Chernobog was roaring as they fired ground to ground missiles, anti-aircraft missiles, and fired its massive heavy gun.

He dove into the ditch, his greenie cranking the battlescreen above him to the max, until the sky kaleidoscoped on him.

Twenty Noocracy strikers got through the missiles and flack, coming in low, guns hammering as they strafed the 1TMEF dropship zone. Five exploded before they got off their cluster bombs.

The rest dropped them and the ground heaved around Impton. His battlescreen either obliterated the dirt or sent it flying away when a wave of dirt blew over the edge of the ditch and threatened to bury him under a foot of dirt.

"Bean eating insects!" Impton yelled, rolling over in place and wiggling. He checked his rifle then checked his HUD.

Division had called off the dropships and was putting up a new rally point with eight routes.

Impton chose one and rolled out of the ditch, slapping his hand on the edge and pulling himself up and out at the same time. He was in the middle of a group, the members of 1TMEF spreading out from instict.

His rocket launcher was steadily roaring, his grenade launcher steadily chuffing out grenades. Spinners, strobes, microprism, chaff, everything the greenies could think of to mask the members of 1TMEF as they ran for the cover of shattered buildings.

Impton saw the warning and slid to a stop behind a dead tank with a half dozen others.

The Nookie strikers roared by, thirty of them, their guns strafing the top of the tank and just past the dead armored vehicle. The heavy sabot rounds penetrated the tank to no effect.

Senior Lieutenant Grewol shook his fist at the retreating strikers, the rainbow feathers on the back of his helmet charred and blackened. "PIG LOVING DEGENERATES!" he shouted.

A check of the HUD and Impton broke around the tank first, running as fast as he could. He kept jinking left to right, keeping the tanks between himself and the oncoming shattered buildings.

The Nookies had managed to get troops into the wreckage and small arms fire was reaching for him, pinging off his armor, scratching the warsteel mark-one that had been crafted on the hate anvils.

Another screaming flight of white knuckled Nookie pilots that the tank barely took the fire of.

"SON OF AN IRON FENCE CHEESE EATER!" someone shouted as they dumped their rocket pack at the fleeing strikers. The missiles lost lock and exploded in midair but none of Impton's little group noticed, all of them running hell bent for leather toward the buildings.

"Watch it, zipper on the right!" Field Captain Hredvip called out, even as the green tracers of the high velocity light railgun began floating toward the group.

Impton felt two tag him, dropping his already weak battlescreen. A third kissed his right thigh, leaving a finger width deep gouge in the armor.

Someone put a brace of rockets into the zipper nest but the gun kept firing.

It was a killzone coming up. Two hundred meters of empty terrain and then Impton would be at the base of the destroyed skyrakers.

His greenie cranked the battlescreen, firing more screening grenades ahead of them.

Two zipper rounds hit Impton's weapon and it came apart in his hands.

He drew his hand axes from behind his back.

50 meters.

Someone on the Nookie side didn't have their head in their ass and artillery was raining down from the cloudy sky. Grenade and rocket packs went to point defense, trying to nail the heavy eight inch honkers most likely to hit or injure the troops sprinting across the killzone.

100 meters.

Junior Captain Knetok took a 66mm rocket in the chest and staggered to the side for a minute before he managed to get moving forward.

Impton could see Knetok's icon start strobing amber. The officer was wounded and badly.

150 meters.

At silent instructions from Field Captain Hredvip Impton veered toward the zipper gun position, running through gouts of dirt that looked impressive but were harmless to power armor troops.

175 meters.

The angle was bad, the zipper unable to get at them, but they were hosing where more of 1TMEF was leaving the graveyard of dead robots.

Impton jumped, easily sailing up the fifty meters. He sunk his axe in the wall and scampered up it, swinging his axes and kicking his boots, driving the grav spikes into the wall.

Four other members of 1TMEF were with him.

He reached the shattered ferrocrete and swung in.

There were three gunner teams, all a good ten feet back from the wall, with a battlescreen up.

Impton veered to the right, crashing through thin walls.

The Nookie troops fired at where he had been as he bulled through the walls.

He came out from the side, Junior Lieutenant Makrok behind him. From the other side came Junior Sergeant Rekwrek and Senior Private Mrekit.

They all had axes in their hands as they came at the Nookie troops from the flanks.

The axes started swinging.

The screaming started.

Impton was smiling.