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  They were now, though, regardless of what had brought them to this point. Even if the Nestafar hadn’t already displayed their dislike for the Humans Mark still would have sided with the Calavari, even if this hadn’t been their base. Next to the Hycre, and maybe the Kiritas, the Calavari had become Star Force’s closest ally…here on Daka, anyway. Not to mention that several of them had become personal friends.

  When the elevator door finally opened Mark wasn’t anywhere to be seen, hiding aside from the door in case the exit was trouble. After not hearing anything for a handful of seconds Mark cautiously walked out, finding the surrounding area to be clear. He sprinted off towards the door to the dedicated elevator shaft that led down into their complex, not sighting a Nestafar until the last few steps, and only then at the very far end of the hall, or rather as far as he could see down to another incline.

  Mark jumped into the elevator and rode it down to the command level, then burst out to find it all but empty. Only Sandra was there, coordinating via earpiece and console.

  “Report!” he demanded loud enough to get her attention.

  She looked up at him, suddenly relieved. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Helping the Calavari fight off an ambush. What’s going on?”

  “They hit the hangar bay, but not our ships. The Calavari’s fighters are gone, as are several other races’. Explosives followed up by troops with handheld rockets. Most of us are out there keeping them away from our ships, because now they’re torching everything in sight. We’ve lost two skeets and a dropship so far, but we’re pushing them back.”

  “In armor?”

  “Yes. We’ve also got some of the regulars in the air, strafing them in the bay, but the Nestafar fighters are waiting outside the bay doors in ambush. We know because we saw a Kvash squadron go through and get hit.”

  “Did they get reinforcements or are they doing this…”

  “In house only, as far as I can tell. Their ships in orbit haven’t moved.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Mark said, rushing off towards the armory when Sandra yelled.

  “Wait!”

  He skidded to a halt and came back, seeing her bring up an orbital sensor display just as several new contacts were showing up…all Nestafar.

  “Damn it,” Mark swore as he took off in a dash to get to his armor.

  Backstab

  1

  December 20, 2399

  Jartul System

  Daka

  Mark pulled open the armory storage locker revealing three sets of green battle suits, all his. He took the right boot of the newest one and slid it on over his shoe, securing it in place before pulling out the other pieces of the ranger armor and latching them on, then doing a quick shimmy to get them to all lock into place forming an airtight seal. The density and weight of the armor was greater than that of the acolyte armor, which was in turn greater than that of the adept armor, giving him the most protection possible.

  As Archons grew in strength they could bodily handle higher grades of armor, and the ranger armor was the most advanced version they had fielded yet. It weighed 128 pounds, almost as much as Mark did, and was tailored to fit the exact dimensions of his body, thus increasing his speed and flexibility as compared to an adjustable, generic suit. The whole assembly was unpowered, save for diagnostics, communication, and a lot of other stuff in the helmet, meaning that he had to propel himself and the suit around on muscle power alone, which would have been impossible for an untrained Human, who would have had difficulty in walking a single step.

  Mark, on the other hand, was a level 2 Archon Ranger and took off running out of the changing area as if the suit was nothing more than a thick set of clothes. He grabbed several weapons in a nearby compartment, attaching them to the built-in rack on the back of his torso along with an extra ammo carrier that slid in along the small of his back but still allowed him to bend at the waist as he left the armory and headed for the hangar.

  “I’m in. Talk to me Sandra,” he said as he tore through the hallways.

  “Big fight going on in orbit and they’ve got dropships coming down. Closing the bay doors would be a big help.”

  “Are they both open?”

  “No, just south side. But the Calavari remote control is down. They’re asking for assistance manually shutting the doors. I don’t know how, but the Nestafar have troops swarming the hanger and the interior corridors.”

  “I can confirm the latter. Where are the manual controls located?”

  “Control booth above each door.”

  “Above?” Mark said, skidding to a halt just before he got to the airlock. “So I need to go through the roof to get there?”

  “That’d be my guess. I’m not getting much information from the Calavari right now.”

  “How are we doing in the hangar?” Mark said, not sure which way to go.

  “We’ve got the regulars in the air providing cover, but aside from the smoking dropship remains there’s not much to hide behind out there. We’re good for now, so I suggest you hit the roof.”

  “On it,” Mark said, sprinting off towards the elevator. “You going to get in the fight or what?”

  “I was waiting to find you,” she said, her voice dissipating a bit as she walked away from the mic towards another station. “Next time we have an alien invasion remember to wear an earpiece, will ya?”

  “Get in your armor and mobile. I’ll coordinate enroute.”

  “Going,” she said, cutting the comm line as she left the control room to head over to the armory.

  “Boen,” Mark said, switching to the Archon suit frequencies listed on his helmet’s HUD, “how’s your day going?”

  “Just lovely…these things are starting to piss me off. They’re chucking rockets all over the place, but not a lot at us. They seem more interested in the Calavari and Kvash. Where have you been?”

  “Playing hopscotch. We’ve got a battle in orbit and Nestafar dropships headed this way. I’m going for the door controls, think you can keep things together without me?” he said as he punched the open button on the elevator twice.

  “Go.”

  Mark jumped in between the doors before they were fully open and impatiently rode it up to the ceiling corridors. When it opened again he walked out finding a line of Nestafar flying away from his position. They didn’t see him come out, so he ducked down the corridor until he got to the transit elevator without incident, but as he was waiting for a car to be diverted to his position another group came up following the others, accelerating their wing flaps as soon as they saw him.

  The Archon squared himself to the hallway and faced them, smiling at the tiny blade weapons they were carrying. Now that he was armed and armored they weren’t going to be a problem.

  He raised his plasma rifle and was about to fire at the first of them when the elevator doors opened, so he held his fire and stepped inside…then was whisked off through the base to the point nearest the southern bay doors. When the car finally arrived and pulled open its doors Mark found himself shut inside by the hallway doors that usually retracted in sync. A crack of light was visible at the top and bottom, but a whole solid line of some sort of melted metal was covering the center, locking the doors in place.

  Mark fired his plasma rifle into the seam at pointblank range with his right hand as he held in the retract button with his left. Little chunks of the door blew out but it wouldn’t budge, so he let go of the button and tucked his rifle onto his back and began punching the broken seam. After the third punch the left door shifted, giving him a half inch wide gap into which he drove his fingers and pulled. The door didn’t want to move but Mark’s strength convinced it, prying open a half foot gap before a Nestafar’s face poked in from the other side.

  The trailblazer punched it back and continued to pull, but the alien pulled out an exotic pistol and fired a bolt of red plasma through the gap. Mark ducked down with the blast passing over his shoulder and impacting the back w
all, then put all his effort into moving the stubborn door.

  He only got it a few more inches before another two shots came through, one of which hit him in the left pectoral. Annoyed more than anything, he took a step back, pulled out his rifle and shot the Nestafar with one clean blue streak, then tucked his weapon onto his armor and went back to prying. It took more than two minutes to get the doors wide enough apart for him to slide through, and when he did he realized he was behind enemy lines with a lot of commotion coming from the right.

  If his guess was correct the control room was somewhere to the left but he couldn’t see anything in the plaza he was standing in now. It was a pentagon with four hallways shooting out the various sides with the elevator occupying the 5th. Mark hung close to the wall and went left, running down a short section of corridor before he got to a T-junction, on the left of which were several dozen Calavari all hunkered down and silently standing around a few Nestafar corpses.

  Mark looked at them through his helmet, frowning. “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for reinforcements,” one of them said, dripping blood from its arm. Mark looked around and saw that most of them were injured and weaponless, though a few were holding the Nestafar hand blades.

  “Where’s the bay control room? We need to shut the doors before they can land their reinforcements.”

  Another Calavari pointed down the opposite hallway that seemed to go the wrong direction from the exterior of the base. “We just lost it. How did you get here?”

  “The elevator. I need one of you to show me to the control room. I’ll get it back.”

  Two of the Calavari stood taller. “There are too many, and they have firearms.”

  “I can handle it,” the green armored Human said confidently. “Point me at them.”

  “The security team is nearly here,” another argued, pointing in the direction of the audible firefight. “When they arrive we will retake it together.”

  “I can’t wait,” Mark said, turning about and heading off to the right. Before long he came to another ‘T’ and looked in either direction, seeing nothing but empty hallway, and these were much shorter and narrower than the main thoroughfares he was used to running through.

  “Go left,” one of the slightly wounded Calavari said as it ran up behind him.

  Mark nodded his thanks and jogged off until he came up on another ‘T’ jutting off to the right. Before he got there a Nestafar appeared, this one walking around the corner rather than flying. A quick plasma shot to its head dropped it to the ground with little effort…but its fall was followed by three more of its friends flying into view, and they came around the corner firing.

  Knowing his ally had no armor or weapons Mark charged ahead, shooting one of the ugly vermin out of the air and drawing fire from another before he got to the ‘T’ where he shot a second in the gut and pulled the third down to the ground by its foot. He took a red plasma blast to the chest in the process but shook it off and shot the pinned one in the head, then looked off to the right and saw dozens more at the end of the hall in front of an open door that had to lead to the control room.

  “Stay here,” Mark said, glancing back at the Calavari who was still out of view around the corner, then the Archon took off sprinting towards the enemy, intent on giving them as few shots at him as possible. He took several hits on the run up with the plasma washing over him like an angry cloud that traveled down the hallway and barreled right into the lot of them, shooting a few on the way then busting up the rest hand to hand as the Calavari watched from the corner, unable to completely hide and wait while the Human went into battle.

  To its amazement the little man didn’t go down, but the Nestafar did, leaving the Archon standing in the pile of their corpses for a moment, smoke rising from his only slightly damaged armor before he kicked his way clear and jumped over their bodies and through the doors.

  The Calavari shook its head in amazement then followed Mark up to the pile of dead enemies, grabbing one of their tiny pistols and squeezing his thick finger through the trigger loop…but it wouldn’t fit. It fired off a shot sideways into the wall as his finger pressed in on the trigger and held it flush to the casing, unable to recoil again.

  With a growl the Calavari tossed it aside and stepped over the pile, kicking one of the corpses on the way. When he got inside he followed a line of dead Calavari through several small chambers until the suit of green armor came back and looked up at the larger alien. “Where are the door controls?”

  “Follow me,” the Calavari said, passing him by and moving two rooms up. Mark followed him, keeping close guard with his plasma rifle crossed over his chest and his helmet turning back and forth robotically as he visually scanned the area for new targets.

  A blue flash crossed within a foot of the Calavari’s arm as the Human fired on a Nestafar coming in from another doorway, then the short ally burst ahead as quick as an insect and took up a guard position, firing twice more at enemies the four-armed giant couldn’t see as it bent over and started tapping buttons on the console. A holographic display of the hangar bay arose, offering a clear view of the melee going on below them and the open doors leading out onto the grassy plains. The exit corridor was also displayed with dots representing the Nestafar Valeries moving in and out of the local sensor range as they waited to poach any fighters coming out.

  With a few more keystrokes the 2 giant doors began to creep inwards, each several meters thick and hundreds of meters wide.

  “It is done,” the Calavari announced, glancing around.

  Mark walked back in from the doorway and held position near the hologram, watching the closure. As the gap diminished one of the Nestafar fighters flew in…then another. Halfway closed several dozen shot through and began flying around the interior, knowing that they wouldn’t get another opportunity once the doors fully closed.

  Inside Mark could see their skeets moving off from the column that had been their home these past few years to engage the enemy fighters, leaving the Archons on the ground to deal with the individual Nestafar flying about under their own power and causing havoc with their rocket launchers.

  “Lock them down if you can,” Mark prompted as soon as the massive doors came together, sealing off the hangar from the outside. “Are there any other entrances to the base?”

  “Not to the hangar, but there are a number of tunnels leading out into the mountains. None big enough for a fighter,” the Calavari said as footsteps behind them caused Mark to spin around reflexively…but he held his fire as more Calavari appeared, some of which held their own version of rifles in their two right arms.

  “Hangar secured,” the one with Mark said.

  The members of the security team looked down at the Human and his slightly pitted armor. “You did this?”

  “Yes. Can you hold this position?”

  “We can.”

  “I have to get back down to the hangar and assist my men,” Mark said, brushing past the larger aliens who stepped aside respectfully. As soon as he was past them he took off sprinting back towards the elevator.

  Boen took a knee next to Kara behind one of the broken wings on a Falcon-class dropship that the Nestafar infantry had toasted with a hail of rockets. They were still flying around the hangar, up high where they were harder to hit, and firing rockets down on the other races’ ships. The Archons had cleared out the bulk of those near the Star Force parking lot, but there were so many zipping around that a few kept coming their way from multiple angles…and there were so many of their fighters surrounding the column that they were difficult to all protect.

  Add in the fact that the rockets had an equal if not greater firing range than their rifles, given that the targets the Nestafar were shooting at were huge in comparison. If it wasn’t for the skeets hovering in the air and discouraging most attacks they’d have lost at least half of their ships by now. As it was, two of the fighters had already been shot down, with both surviving pilots recovered by Archons pulling
them out of the wreckage and escorting them back over to the column.

  In the few minutes that the battle had been going on the Star Force pilots had learned to shoot at anything that even twitched in their direction, and the ceiling of the hangar over Boen’s head was a constant wash of blue light as the skeets lit up the surrounding area trying to hit the bird-like Nestafar at range with their plasma.

  Boen fired off a shot with his lachar sniper rifle, nailing one of the distant flyers as it pivoted up in an arc, reversing directions and momentarily coming to a halt, which the Archon immediately took advantage of.

  “Seventeen,” he sounded off for Kara’s sake.

  “5000 more to go,” she said sarcastically, keeping a close watch over both Boen and the surrounding area, ready to warn and shoot if anything came up on the pair. The rest of the Archons were equally spread out, with most taking cover behind the various dropships on the deck or along the base of the column where they didn’t have to watch their backs.

  Both Boen and Kara wore their silver acolyte armor, made out of a Herculium alloy stronger than what Star Force had originally used as warship hull plating…only now it was twice as light.

  They both had a good quarter inch built into their armor plates, with the adept armor having half that. The plates were necessarily dense and heavy, which Boen was grateful for since Jason hadn’t worked out the dynamics of a small enough shield generator yet, which he’d promised was on the way. His acolyte armor gave him a greater sense of security due to the extra protection, knowing that he could probably survive a rocket impact on his chest…it was the second one that came down while he was unconscious on the ground that was worrisome.

  “Right, mid level,” Kara called out with Boen swinging his rifle around in the general direction. He spotted the target on approach then sighted it in with the scope on a wide setting, zooming in to an appropriate level and trying to center the crosshairs on the moving target.