Recruit, Part Two
Oct. 27th, 2006 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalMind you, there wasn't supposed to be a Part Two (glares at mjkj). Well, it beats getting writer's block over the next bit for Flyboys. ;p
Fourteen
Oryon led his squad along the animal track through the forest. Ahead lay their objective, a small enemy listening post, guarded by anywhere from six to ten soldiers, species unknown, with an unknown number of unarmed techs manning it. He was armed with a carbine capable of switching from stun to plasma bolts, while the four other members of his squad were armed similarly, while each of them also carried a kilogram of explosive, to completely destroy the post after they had taken it.
He felt his frill flatten in worry as he again considered their mission. Taking the post was, if not a trivial objective, at least a routine one, a type of mission he'd accomplished a dozen times before. Surely Lord Gene Mage thought him capable of more complex tasks, ones for which he had trained. Either I am not as worthy as I thought, or there is more to this mission than has been explained. He gestured to the warrior second from the read, prompting him to scan the tops of the trees more carefully, while the rest of the squad kept watch by quarters of the area around them.
Two hundred meters brought them to a gravel paved road, which they would have to cross in order to reach their target. A simple enough task, if they had been traveling at night, rather more complicated in daylight as it was now. Another gesture and his squad fell back, as he moved forward to scout the area for traffic. A noise to the right warned him of a group approaching on foot. Oryon turned, catching sight of the aliens walking up the road.
They were a new species, that was for certain. Bipedal, like a Galapados or Creo, with a Creo female's shock of hair, covering most of the top of their heads, in a variety of shades, from light yellow to brown to a rather shocking red. Skin color seemed to range from a dead, disturbing pale to dark brown. None of them appeared to be armed. Indeed, Oryon thought it might be some sort of family group. Aisde from the adults, there were several younger aliens, at least two of which were too small to walk on their own.
So this is the surprise to disrupt our routine, he thought. As the aliens came closer to where Oryon had made his observation point, he faded back from the road and rejoined his squad. “Aliens are ahead of us, a new species,” he reported to them softly. “They are unarmed, we shall wait for them to--”
A plasma bolt buzzed past his ear, striking the warrior he was facing, who dropped to the ground with a scream of pain. Oryon dropped to the ground, twisting as he fell to face the direction the shot had come from. The aliens he'd seen from the road... no, a different group, but of the same species, were firing on his squad from the cover of some bushes twenty yards from their current position. Oryon brought his rifle up, snapping off an un-aimed shot to make them duck, then sighting in for more accurate fire. Already two more of his squad were down. He depressed the trigger of his rifle, felling one with a plasma bolt. He was just lining up another shot when another alien returned his fire, and he was racked with pain as he was struck in the shoulder.
Oryon lay there, face down in the loam and rotting leaves of the forest floor, waiting for the buzz of the stunner/shocker built in his weapons harness to dissipate. In a moment the fire from the bushes ceased. His squad was dead.
As the waves of pins and needles went down his arms to his fingers, signally the return of functioning limbs, Oryon levered himself up onto his knees, while his squad bit back humiliating moans of pain. As he waited, a familiar robed figure emerged from the trees, guarded by floating drones that a moment before had been hidden in the holographic images of the attacking aliens.
“Explain the defeat of your squad, Oryon Gisko,” Lord Gene Mage demanded coolly.
“My attention was diverted, Lord Gene Mage,” Oryon stated, bowing his head. “I was concentrating on the aliens that were traversing the road and did not consider the possibility of a second group.”
“Why not?”
“The aliens on the road was unarmed, possible a family grouping. It seemed unlikely that we would be attacked so near a group of vulnerable, unarmed non-warriors.”
“Why did you believe this to be so?”
Oryon blinked. “To attack, so close to a group of non-warriors, would be foolish. What if they struck their own people?”
Lord Gene Mage nodded, but did not look at all pleased. “A logical conclusion. Unfortunately it only holds if your opponent hews to your line of reasoning. In the case of this race that would not be a safe assumption.”
“Forgive me, Lord Gene Mage, but I do not understand.”
“Attend then, all of you.” The remainder of Oryon's squad pulled themselves up off the ground, sitting crosslegged in a half circle around their god. The Gene Mage touched a control at his wrist and two of the training drones assumed the holographic cloak of the aliens again, a male and female pair. “Memorize the forms before you. This race is called Humanity, and they are the greatest enemies you are likely to face.”
One of Oryon's squad mates had the temerity to laugh. “Those creatures? But they are so small and weak!”
“Do not underestimate them, Warrior!” the Gene Mage declared. “The Dominion extended its hand to the humans, offering its wisdom and guidance. They spat upon our gift, forcing us to strike them down. For a century afterward they were docile, their will broken, or so we believed. We trained them in the science of the Dominion, taught them what rewards could be granted for serving the Dominion's needs. But it was a false loyalty they gave us in return for our benevolence. Undetected by us, they spoke sweet words to the other servitor races, poisoning their minds. Then one day, the humans and our other servants rose up as one, daring to wage war against us.”
“We fought, but the poison they had poured into the servitor race's ears was virulent and difficult to combat, more so than any gun or bomb they used against our installations. For twenty years we fought, until we were forced to retreat across Acdactavian space, after losing...” the Gene Mage bowed his head a moment, appearing to be in great pain. He took a breath and continued. “They took from us the source of our power. I... we, wept for its loss, but there was no way to easily replace it. So instead, I created you, the Galapados.”
“They are so formidable?” Oryon dared to ask, in the silence that followed.
“They are chaos personified. In their war against the Dominion they went into battle heedless of their own losses. No tactic was beneath them, no atrocity unthinkable. They attacked the Dominion's forces wherever they presented themselves, whether it was in the empty depths of space or in crowds of their own people. There was nothing to compare their sheer aggressiveness in our memory. Until now.” Lord Gene Mage smiled. “You, my Galapados Warriors, are the sword I have forged to counter Humanity's strength. You are just as strong, you are just as fast and you are just as aggressive. You will be vengeance for our lost little ones. You will teach Humanity the power of the Varn Dominion and the wisdom of serving, rather than opposing, us.”
Oryon was the face to come to his feet. “We fight for you, Lord Gene Mage. The Galapados will bring you the victory you so desire! They will learn the power of the Dominion!”
The Gene Mage stepped forward, one hand reaching up to stroke Oryon's cheek. “My beautiful warrior, nothing would please me more.”
Fourteen
Oryon led his squad along the animal track through the forest. Ahead lay their objective, a small enemy listening post, guarded by anywhere from six to ten soldiers, species unknown, with an unknown number of unarmed techs manning it. He was armed with a carbine capable of switching from stun to plasma bolts, while the four other members of his squad were armed similarly, while each of them also carried a kilogram of explosive, to completely destroy the post after they had taken it.
He felt his frill flatten in worry as he again considered their mission. Taking the post was, if not a trivial objective, at least a routine one, a type of mission he'd accomplished a dozen times before. Surely Lord Gene Mage thought him capable of more complex tasks, ones for which he had trained. Either I am not as worthy as I thought, or there is more to this mission than has been explained. He gestured to the warrior second from the read, prompting him to scan the tops of the trees more carefully, while the rest of the squad kept watch by quarters of the area around them.
Two hundred meters brought them to a gravel paved road, which they would have to cross in order to reach their target. A simple enough task, if they had been traveling at night, rather more complicated in daylight as it was now. Another gesture and his squad fell back, as he moved forward to scout the area for traffic. A noise to the right warned him of a group approaching on foot. Oryon turned, catching sight of the aliens walking up the road.
They were a new species, that was for certain. Bipedal, like a Galapados or Creo, with a Creo female's shock of hair, covering most of the top of their heads, in a variety of shades, from light yellow to brown to a rather shocking red. Skin color seemed to range from a dead, disturbing pale to dark brown. None of them appeared to be armed. Indeed, Oryon thought it might be some sort of family group. Aisde from the adults, there were several younger aliens, at least two of which were too small to walk on their own.
So this is the surprise to disrupt our routine, he thought. As the aliens came closer to where Oryon had made his observation point, he faded back from the road and rejoined his squad. “Aliens are ahead of us, a new species,” he reported to them softly. “They are unarmed, we shall wait for them to--”
A plasma bolt buzzed past his ear, striking the warrior he was facing, who dropped to the ground with a scream of pain. Oryon dropped to the ground, twisting as he fell to face the direction the shot had come from. The aliens he'd seen from the road... no, a different group, but of the same species, were firing on his squad from the cover of some bushes twenty yards from their current position. Oryon brought his rifle up, snapping off an un-aimed shot to make them duck, then sighting in for more accurate fire. Already two more of his squad were down. He depressed the trigger of his rifle, felling one with a plasma bolt. He was just lining up another shot when another alien returned his fire, and he was racked with pain as he was struck in the shoulder.
Oryon lay there, face down in the loam and rotting leaves of the forest floor, waiting for the buzz of the stunner/shocker built in his weapons harness to dissipate. In a moment the fire from the bushes ceased. His squad was dead.
As the waves of pins and needles went down his arms to his fingers, signally the return of functioning limbs, Oryon levered himself up onto his knees, while his squad bit back humiliating moans of pain. As he waited, a familiar robed figure emerged from the trees, guarded by floating drones that a moment before had been hidden in the holographic images of the attacking aliens.
“Explain the defeat of your squad, Oryon Gisko,” Lord Gene Mage demanded coolly.
“My attention was diverted, Lord Gene Mage,” Oryon stated, bowing his head. “I was concentrating on the aliens that were traversing the road and did not consider the possibility of a second group.”
“Why not?”
“The aliens on the road was unarmed, possible a family grouping. It seemed unlikely that we would be attacked so near a group of vulnerable, unarmed non-warriors.”
“Why did you believe this to be so?”
Oryon blinked. “To attack, so close to a group of non-warriors, would be foolish. What if they struck their own people?”
Lord Gene Mage nodded, but did not look at all pleased. “A logical conclusion. Unfortunately it only holds if your opponent hews to your line of reasoning. In the case of this race that would not be a safe assumption.”
“Forgive me, Lord Gene Mage, but I do not understand.”
“Attend then, all of you.” The remainder of Oryon's squad pulled themselves up off the ground, sitting crosslegged in a half circle around their god. The Gene Mage touched a control at his wrist and two of the training drones assumed the holographic cloak of the aliens again, a male and female pair. “Memorize the forms before you. This race is called Humanity, and they are the greatest enemies you are likely to face.”
One of Oryon's squad mates had the temerity to laugh. “Those creatures? But they are so small and weak!”
“Do not underestimate them, Warrior!” the Gene Mage declared. “The Dominion extended its hand to the humans, offering its wisdom and guidance. They spat upon our gift, forcing us to strike them down. For a century afterward they were docile, their will broken, or so we believed. We trained them in the science of the Dominion, taught them what rewards could be granted for serving the Dominion's needs. But it was a false loyalty they gave us in return for our benevolence. Undetected by us, they spoke sweet words to the other servitor races, poisoning their minds. Then one day, the humans and our other servants rose up as one, daring to wage war against us.”
“We fought, but the poison they had poured into the servitor race's ears was virulent and difficult to combat, more so than any gun or bomb they used against our installations. For twenty years we fought, until we were forced to retreat across Acdactavian space, after losing...” the Gene Mage bowed his head a moment, appearing to be in great pain. He took a breath and continued. “They took from us the source of our power. I... we, wept for its loss, but there was no way to easily replace it. So instead, I created you, the Galapados.”
“They are so formidable?” Oryon dared to ask, in the silence that followed.
“They are chaos personified. In their war against the Dominion they went into battle heedless of their own losses. No tactic was beneath them, no atrocity unthinkable. They attacked the Dominion's forces wherever they presented themselves, whether it was in the empty depths of space or in crowds of their own people. There was nothing to compare their sheer aggressiveness in our memory. Until now.” Lord Gene Mage smiled. “You, my Galapados Warriors, are the sword I have forged to counter Humanity's strength. You are just as strong, you are just as fast and you are just as aggressive. You will be vengeance for our lost little ones. You will teach Humanity the power of the Varn Dominion and the wisdom of serving, rather than opposing, us.”
Oryon was the face to come to his feet. “We fight for you, Lord Gene Mage. The Galapados will bring you the victory you so desire! They will learn the power of the Dominion!”
The Gene Mage stepped forward, one hand reaching up to stroke Oryon's cheek. “My beautiful warrior, nothing would please me more.”
